Filmmakers Making A Social Impact: Why & How Filmmaker Jada-Amina H of Black Harvest Film Festival Are Helping to Change Our World
Ask for help early: When I first started curating, I tried to do everything on my own. I learned the hard way that collaboration makes the work better and easier.
As a part of our series about “Filmmakers Making A Social Impact,” I had the pleasure of interviewing Jada-Amina H.
Jada-Amina H. (BFA 2020) is the curator of the Black Harvest Film Festival. A Chicago-based artist, writer, and cultural worker, Jada-Amina’s practice explores the nuances of Black life across space and time. Rooted in sound, writing, video, and collage, their work engages with history to reclaim and reimagine Black narratives, resurrecting collective memory across time and space. Jada-Amina also stewards Public Programs and Engagement at the South Side Community Art Center.
Thank you so much for doing this interview with us! Before we dive in, our readers would love to get to know you a bit. Can you share your “backstory” that brought you to this career?
Growing up on the South Side of Chicago, I was surrounded by a community that taught me the importance of storytelling. My family didn’t call themselves artists, but they were cooks, singers, seamstresses, and preachers. I learned early on that creativity was a means of survival and a way to claim space in the world. I see myself continuing that tradition as a cultural worker and interdisciplinary artist. I’m deeply committed to creating work that uplifts Black life, especially Black queer and trans experiences, and ensures that our stories are seen and heard across all spaces and times.
Who are some of the most interesting people you have interacted with? What was that like? Do you have any stories?
When I think about the most interesting people I’ve interacted with, my mind always goes straight to my community. It’s the artists, educators, activists, and everyday people who show me what resilience, creativity, and survival look like — often in spaces not built for us. These people are constantly creating, healing, and lifting one another up, and it’s that collective experience that shapes who I am and the work I do.
One moment that stands out happened during the Black Harvest Film Festival last year. I was moderating a panel after a film screening, and one of the writers on the panel shared an incredible story that shook the room. She surprised her niece, who had been in foster care, by reuniting her with her grandmother and family for the first time. To witness that — right there, in the middle of a festival, a reunion that transcended the film itself — was one of those moments you never forget. It was raw, powerful, and a reminder of how art and community can create spaces for healing and connection that go beyond the surface.
These are the kinds of stories I carry with me. It’s not about one famous person or individual; it’s about the community I’m a part of and the incredible people within it who push boundaries, who create, and who transform. These interactions, these moments, remind me why I do this work. They show me that our stories, our lives, are intertwined in ways we can’t always predict, and that’s where the magic is.
Which people in history inspire you the most? Why?
I’m incredibly indebted to my ancestors and to all the people who have paved the way and continue to create in the spirit of liberation and righteousness. Righteousness, for me, is about respecting life, even when no one is watching. I surround myself with people who live by that code, who move through the world with integrity and love for the collective.
There are so many others who light my path — Sylvester, Little Richard, Octavia St. Laurent, Icon Deja LaPerla, Whitney Houston, Luther Vandross, Prince, Minnie Riperton, Fannie Lou Hamer, bell hooks, Toni Morrison, Toni Cade Bambara, Pat Parker, Sun Ra, and living artists like Julie Dash, Yvonne Welbon, Cheryl Dunye, and Barbara McCullough.
I’m deeply inspired by the filmmakers of the LA Rebellion and beyond, including Marlon Riggs and Essex Hemphill. These individuals, both ancestors and those still creating, remind me daily that art, in all its forms, is not just about expression — it’s about liberation.
Let’s now shift to the main focus of our interview: how are you using your success to bring goodness to the world? Can you share with us the meaningful or exciting social impact causes you are working on right now?
Currently, as the curator of the Black Harvest Film Festival, I’m focused on showcasing films that uplift underrepresented voices, particularly within the Black diaspora. Beyond that, I’m committed to creating spaces where community members can engage with these stories and see themselves reflected. One of my initiatives is bringing film into nontraditional spaces like community centers and schools, where we host screenings and workshops to engage young people in conversations about identity, history, and activism. I also work closely with the South Side Community Art Center to support emerging Black artists and create programs that encourage intergenerational dialogue.
Many of us have ideas, dreams, and passions, but never manifest them. But you did. Was there an “Aha Moment” that made you decide that you were actually going to step up and take action for this cause? What was that final trigger?
For many of us, we are born into resistance, into survival. I think of my grandparents, who didn’t have the luxury to wait for a moment of clarity or epiphany. They moved through a world that told them they were less than, but they lived knowing that the truth was otherwise.
I grew up witnessing that quiet, uncelebrated courage, that day-to-day resistance that didn’t need applause. So, for me, it was never about a final trigger, but a slow, steady unfolding — a deep remembering of what was already mine. The gaslighting, the imposter syndrome — those were things imposed on me, things I had to learn weren’t mine to carry. I had to unlearn the lies that tell us liberation is something we need to earn or wait for. The truth is, freedom, joy, and my dreams are my birthright. They belong to me. They belong to all of us.
The decision to step into this work was never a single moment but a continuous process. It was about shedding layers of fear and doubt that had been handed to me, about seeing through the false narratives that try to limit us. There wasn’t a trigger, per se — it was a series of small awakenings, rooted in the legacy of those who came before me.
I’m still on that journey, still walking toward a fuller understanding of what liberation means for me and for my community. I don’t believe we ever fully “arrive” at freedom — it’s a process we commit to every day. But I’m grateful that I’ve had the chance to step into my purpose and be part of something larger than myself. It’s about knowing that the work is never done alone, that I stand on the shoulders of so many who resisted long before I did, and that the journey toward liberation is one we walk together.
Can you tell us a story about a particular individual who was impacted or helped by your cause?
When it comes to my connection with advocacy, it’s deeply rooted in my path as an arts educator. This journey began when I was a youth myself, drawn instinctively to teaching. I started as a teaching assistant and eventually co-founded a high school in Los Angeles for foster and homeless youth, alongside some truly remarkable people.
Growing up with learning disabilities, art was my lifeline. It wasn’t just an escape, it was survival. Art became a way for me to shape the world around me, to craft something from nothing. It wasn’t just creation — it was transformation. That’s why I believe in arts education with my whole being. Art is alchemy. It’s the power to transform abstract emotion into something real, something that can be touched, shared, and understood. It gave me a path forward when I didn’t see one, and it’s what I hope to offer the youth I work with.
Every time I connect with youth — or anyone, really — I’m hoping to impart that art has the power to shift the ground beneath our feet. To create possibilities in the spaces where the world tells us there are none. Art is a vehicle for liberation, for healing, for telling our truths. I can only hope that sharing this is helpful, that it inspires, that it affirms what so many already know but may have been told to forget — that we are the alchemists of our own lives, and art is our most powerful tool.
Are there three things that individuals, society, or the government can do to support you in this effort?
- Funding and Grants for Independent Filmmakers: There are so many talented filmmakers whose voices aren’t heard because they lack the resources. Increased funding for independent Black filmmakers would be game-changing.
- Support Arts Education: Bringing film into schools and community centers can spark important conversations about identity and social change. More arts education funding and access would make a huge difference.
- Create More Spaces for Diverse Voices: We need more platforms that actively seek to uplift underrepresented stories in film and media. Whether it’s creating new festivals, forums, or film schools, these spaces will help build a more inclusive industry.
What are your “5 things I wish someone told me when I first started” and why? Please share a story or example for each.
- Ask for help early: When I first started curating, I tried to do everything on my own. I learned the hard way that collaboration makes the work better and easier.
- Be prepared to pivot: Nothing ever goes exactly as planned. Being adaptable has been one of the most important lessons I’ve learned.
- Build a support system: Surround yourself with people who understand your vision. Your community is what sustains you.
- Rest is part of the process: Burnout is real. Don’t underestimate the power of taking time for yourself; it helps creativity flow.
- Trust your instincts: In this industry, it’s easy to doubt yourself. Trust your gut and stay true to your vision.
If you could tell other young people one thing about why they should consider making a positive impact on our environment or society, like you, what would you tell them?
I would tell them this: Making a positive impact on the world is about believing in your own power to create change, no matter how big or small. It starts with the decision to care deeply — for the earth, for justice, and for each other. When you ground yourself in a love ethic, every action becomes an opportunity to make the world a better place. It’s not about waiting for someone else to fix things; it’s about recognizing that you have the ability to imagine something better and take steps to bring that vision to life. The choices you make — whether they seem big or small — can ripple out and create lasting change. Your perspective, your voice, and your actions matter more than you realize.
We are very blessed that many other Social Impact Heroes read this column. Is there a person in the world, or in the US, whom you would like to collaborate with, and why? He or she might see this. 🙂
I would be honored to collaborate with any of the filmmakers from the LA Rebellion movement, especially the women like Julie Dash, Barbara McCullough, Alile Sharon Larkin, and Jacqueline Frazier. Their work laid the foundation for what it means to create unapologetically as a Black woman, and they continue to inspire generations of filmmakers. These trailblazers didn’t just make films — they carved out a space for us to see ourselves and tell our stories in ways that defy the mainstream narrative. Collaborating with them would be a chance to further amplify the stories of our communities and honor the legacies they’ve built.
Can you please give us your favorite “Life Lesson Quote”? Can you share how that was relevant to you in your life?
“I do not weep at the world — I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”
–Zora Neale Hurston
This quote is more than just a reflection — it’s a manifesto. Zora Neale Hurston’s words remind me that we live in a world not made for us, a world that can be indifferent or outright hostile. We stay ready, because the world as it is, is not the only one.
The world may try to hand us despair, but we make something else. We transform what’s in front of us and what’s within us. There’s a world beyond this one, and we’re not waiting for permission to get there. We’re making it now, every day, in our work, in our art, in our very existence. We resist because we know what’s possible — because the unknown is a promise, and we are too busy building to ever accept the world as it is.
How can our readers follow you online?
You can follow me and stay updated on Black Harvest Film Festival at https://www.siskelfilmcenter.org/blackharvest
This was great. Thank you so much for sharing your story and doing this with us. We wish you continued success!
Filmmakers Making A Social Impact: Why & How Filmmaker Jada-Amina H of Black Harvest Film Festival… was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.