Ad Age is marking Asian American and Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander Heritage Month 2023 with our Honoring Creative Excellence package. (Read the introduction here.) This week, our guest editor is JJ Augustavo, the award-winning filmmaker, commercial director and music video director. Here, Augustavo writes about a March for Our Lives project that embodied “the power filmmaking has to make revolutionary, meaningful change.”

Activism and philanthropy have always been a source of meaning not only in my career but in my life. Working in these realms has instilled in me a sense of gratitude—recognizing that while it hasn’t been easy for me in this profession where no one doing my job looks like me (many still assume I’m a PA), I’ve been afforded certain privileges.

Born in Seattle to a Filipina immigrant and an American father, I never quite knew where I fit. Part brown, part white—never enough for either side. Growing up, I was inspired by activists and filmmakers like MLK, Larry Itliong, Spike Lee and Gus Van Sant. Those who gave voice to the voiceless and were unapologetically themselves—I wanted to be like them.

As I grew in film, the relationship between my artistry and activism blossomed and I better understood the power filmmaking has to make revolutionary, meaningful change. My approach as a filmmaker is to work with love and passion and to find ways—whether it be through story or behind the camera—to uplift and ride for the people, with hopes to change hackneyed cultural narratives and stereotypes. I’ve consistently used my position to shine a light on important human issues such as racism, incarceration, classism, bodily autonomy, same-sex marriage and gun control.

In pursuit of this, I helmed the PSA “Thoughts and Prayers” for March for Our Lives (MFOL). I was drawn to the project because of its unapologetic approach to calling out politicians. That, and because, like many Americans, my life too has sadly been touched by gun violence.

Normally on set I’ve got a general excitement about the project. However, on our rain-soaked shoot day, that excitement was replaced with a somber morbidity as I stared at piles of body bags representing hundreds of thousands of gun violence victims sitting on the lawn of the D.C. mall. We began documenting the tumultuous process of laying the corpses as we dodged news crews and passersby—and when the weather finally relented, I attempted to conduct interviews with MFOL members. That said, construction crews somehow managed to drill all day, making it impossible to get clean interviews.

I believe my strength as a filmmaker is finding the heart and most emotive visual language, especially when working with limited resources. In capturing the interviews, I spent time getting to know each person featured, finding commonalities so they could go beyond standard sound bites and speak from the heart. I believe that shows in our film.

My kid-from-Seattle-to-filmmaker-and-activist story is one I am proud of and one I’m honored to continue to build upon with this film. But let’s not sugarcoat this—we’re facing an epidemic that will require commitment from everyone to hold politicians accountable and save lives. The “thoughts and prayers” line is a B.S. trope—we need more concrete action to catalyze change. When it comes to gun violence and senseless, avoidable deaths, it is my hope that this film can play a small role in changing our nation’s collective narrative.