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To so many of us, Johanna was a fearless intellectual leader, organizer, comrade, teacher. But she was also my family, friend, auntie. Who sent me sad salsa songs during my heartbreaks. Who defended me tooth and nail when I was being bullied. Who I talked to about all my mother wounds. Who lent me her car to drive to Philadelphia. Who paid for my meals and laughingly called it handouts. Who I cried to, who cried with me. As a filmmaker, I processed the news of her passing the best way I knew how: by digging through all my archives, desperate to find and see her again. So here are some random tapes from half a decade ago when Josh, Diana and I went over to Johanna’s to play with her new juicer and have a spa day. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I now live in a world without her. But maybe that’s not true. Maybe she is still with me… In these home tapes, putting on a face mask, cutting watermelons the oddest way humanly possible, plotting about selling juice. She is still with me
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