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Special

Cindy Tran: From Here to Here

Premiere: 4/30/2026 | 16:11 |

Poet Cindy Tran creates works that bridge personal memories and shared experiences, reflecting on childhood, parental expectations, and societal stigmas around an Asian-American identity.

About the Series

Cindy Tran: From Here to Here is part of In The Making, a documentary shorts series from American Masters and Firelight Media follows emerging cultural icons on their journeys to becoming masters of their artistic disciplines.


Director Statement from Xinyan Yu

I first met Cindy Tran at an anti-Asian hate vigil in New York City in 2021, when she read her poem “True American Sentences” in the aftermath of the Atlanta spa shooting. At the time, I was still working as a journalist, trained to chase news and facts. Yet Cindy’s poetry moved me in a way no statistics or press conference ever could. Her words pierced the air with such raw honesty that moved so many Asian American women in the crowd, myself included, to tears. There was something in her eyes, vulnerable and fierce, that drew me to her world, a world where emotions are not hidden but given shape, where grief and resilience can coexist.

Years later, having made my first feature film, I found myself craving stories that moved beyond headlines into the depth of human emotion. Cindy stayed with me, not just because of her poetry, but because her journey as a woman, immigrant, and artist echoed my own questions about belonging and identity. I knew I wanted to make a film about her, about the mind behind the poems that had first captivated me on that cold, windy day.

This film is both narrative and lyrical. One strand follows Cindy’s family history: her parents who arrived in the United States as refugees, and her estrangement with her family. The other strand builds a dreamy world that mirrors the cadence of her poems. Cindy often begins with small, ordinary things – a banana, a broccoli or a potted orchid – and through them, she reveals emotions that are hidden, complex, and profoundly human. In this dreamscape, the texture of city streets, the hush of winter air, or the roll of a dim sum cart all become part of her poetry.

Cindy first began writing poems on Yelp, turning reviews of restaurants into observations and sometimes conversations. What started playfully became a way to express what was difficult to speak aloud. She writes across English, Teochew, Vietnamese, and Cantonese, expanding poetry beyond language and holding space for anyone who encounters it.

As the film moves deeper, Cindy’s poetry takes us into the terrain of difficult experiences. From menopause to estrangement, it invites the readers to linger in what I see as an “in-between space”, a place where life and death, estrangement and forgiveness, and grief and resilience, can sit side by side.

Cindy’s work does not force us to reconcile or offer us resolutions. Instead, she asks us to stay in that space with her, to listen, to breathe, and to discover that poetry can hold us there. That is what drew me to Cindy years ago, and what I hope audiences will feel now: the quiet, transformative power of her art.

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PRODUCTION CREDITS

Directed by Xinyan Yu. Edited by Hannah Long-Higgins.

This program was produced by Mandarin Duck Films LLC, which is solely responsible for its content. A production of Firelight Media in association with The WNET Group.

For IN THE MAKING, Executive Producers include Michael Kantor, Stanley Nelson, Marcia Smith, Loira Limbal, Monika Navarro and Joe Skinner. Supervising Producer is Robinder Uppal. Associate Producer is Weenta Girmay. Production Coordinator is Myrakel Baker.

About American Masters
Now in its 39th season on PBS, American Masters illuminates the lives and creative journeys of those who have left an indelible impression on our cultural landscape—through compelling, unvarnished stories. Setting the standard for documentary film profiles, the series has earned widespread critical acclaim: 28 Emmy Awards—including 10 for Outstanding Non-Fiction Series and five for Outstanding Non-Fiction Special—two News & Documentary Emmys, 14 Peabodys, three Grammys, two Producers Guild Awards, an Oscar, and many other honors. To further explore the lives and works of more than 250 masters past and present, the American Masters website offers full episodes, film outtakes, filmmaker interviews, the podcast American Masters: Creative Spark, educational resources, digital original series and more. The series is a production of The WNET Group.

American Masters is available for streaming concurrent with broadcast on all station-branded PBS platforms, including PBS.org and the PBS app, available on iOS, Android, Roku streaming devices, Apple TV, Android TV, Amazon Fire TV, Samsung Smart TV, Chromecast and VIZIO. PBS station members can view many series, documentaries and specials via PBS Passport. For more information about PBS Passport, visit the PBS Passport FAQ website.

About The WNET Group

The WNET Group creates inspiring media content and meaningful experiences for diverse audiences nationwide. It is the community-supported home of New York’s THIRTEEN – America’s flagship PBS station – WLIW, THIRTEEN PBS KIDS, WLIW World and Create; NJ PBS, New Jersey’s statewide public television network; Long Island’s only NPR station WLIW-FM; ALL ARTS, the arts and culture media provider; newsroom NJ Spotlight News; and FAST channel PBS Nature. Through these channels and streaming platforms, The WNET Group brings arts, culture, education, news, documentary, entertainment, and DIY programming to more than five million viewers each month. The WNET Group’s award-winning productions include signature PBS series Nature, Great Performances, American Masters, and Amanpour and Company and trusted local news programs like NJ Spotlight News with Briana Vannozzi. Inspiring curiosity and nurturing dreams, The WNET Group’s award-winning Kids’ Media and Education team produces the PBS KIDS series Cyberchase, interactive Mission US history games, and resources for families, teachers and caregivers. A leading nonprofit public media producer for more than 60 years, The WNET Group presents and distributes content that fosters lifelong learning, including initiatives addressing poverty, jobs, economic opportunity, social justice, understanding, and the environment. Through Passport, station members can stream new and archival programming anytime, anywhere. The WNET Group represents the best in public media. Join us. 

UNDERWRITING

Original production funding for In the Making is provided by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, The National Endowment for the Arts, Rosalind P. Walter Foundation, Anderson Family Charitable Fund, The Marc Haas Foundation, The Charina Endowment Fund, Ambrose Monell Foundation, Kate W. Cassidy Foundation, Sue and Edgar Wachenheim III, and Philip & Janice Levin Foundation.

Support for American Masters is provided by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, AARP, Rosalind P. Walter Foundation, Burton P. and Judith B. Resnick Foundation, Blanche and Hayward Cirker Charitable Lead Annuity Trust, Koo and Patricia Yuen, Lillian Goldman Programming Endowment, Seton J. Melvin, Thea Petschek Iervolino Foundation, Candace King Weir, Anita and Jay Kaufman, The Philip and Janice Levin Foundation, Kate W. Cassidy Foundation, The Blanche and Irving Laurie Foundation, The Ambrose Monell Foundation, Ellen and James S. Marcus, The Charina Endowment Fund, The André and Elizabeth Kertész Foundation, The Marc Haas Foundation and public television viewers.

TRANSCRIPT

- Poem to bless the bananas that bless my day.

(bright music) You, banana, lying down everywhere in the city because you carry 14 months of blue sky and sunshine in your body.

A comma telling me, come on, slow down, and suddenly, I don't know what on means because I take little words for granted.

But every banana knows, tiny words have the most power.

- Love love for love.

- Hearing them said from inside fruit baskets, meal trays, and altars, before and after prayers, before and after passings.

(audience applauding) It never occurred to me to become a poet.

Ever since I dropped out of high school, I worked in retail, desk jobs, and even in geology trying to figure out how to be in the world.

And out of all the things I did, writing poetry was the only thing that ever felt honest to me.

I started writing poems on Yelp because for me it was really important to have my readers be anyone who normally wouldn't read a poem.

(bright music) To my ma who only ordered dim sum as the street carts rolled out of the kitchen.

That timing, a way of knowing good from bad, a way of knowing what's well hidden.

(bright music) I remembered to eat my almost bad, week old broccoli, still trying to bloom into a June day bouquet.

And it's sad to be 90 broccoli years, doom for taste, but also doom for my desire for fried chicken from Lincoln's on 125th, where every wing and thigh has a bit of fire.

Even the potato wedges get with the spices and chicken grease, dear reader.

Is your heart running like my heart is running?

Do you agree that hunger is a teacher and this abundant oil is just stunning?

Childhood memories in need of fine gloss, now, heart, call back blood in times of great loss.

Can I have one pork shoulder lemongrass banh mi?

(clerk speaking indistinctly) - Yeah.

I remember looking for Vietnamese takeout places.

As I was scrolling through the reviews, I saw one that was very hateful.

For me, it was very important to educate people while letting them know, to me, this is authentic and I wanna show you why.

I was born in the US, but they say I'm not American because my parents were born in Vietnam, troi oi.

But they say they are not Vietnamese because my grandparents were born in China, but they say they are not Chinese, taihi haila.

How dare they use English words on their menu.

That's not authentic.

How dare you say that this is number three, when it is obviously cha gio.

Might as well call it minced pork sausage, or the dead men in our families.

How dare they have absolutely no comfortable seating.

That's not authentic!

America is rich and dreamy, with infinite spaces to steal.

(bright music) A lot of the respected poetry that I grew up with was about nature, and that was what I was told in classes.

Write about deer, write about the trees.

I didn't realize that I was writing from a place of being educated by white men.

So I think it took a lot of time for me to understand that it was okay to write about my experiences and my felt environment, and my own memories of where I grew up.

My parents arrived as refugees in Westminster, California in 1981.

I grew up watching them sew elastic waistbands into polyester pants.

Hours would go by without a single word between my parents and me.

One rare memory my dad shared was that American soldiers set his entire neighborhood on fire.

Lacking structure, I will say what I need to say.

My family fell apart for no good reason, and for no bad reason.

It was the speed of being poor, genes turning off, a fire turning on droughts, memories folding and unfolding across generations, like mountain ranges, pushing up from the torn earth, molding distance by land and by air.

What changes the voice of a father from a father to a stranger?

It is the one question I've been trying to answer for half my life.

(pensive music) When I was 14, my dad thought I stole a boy's bicycle, so he stopped talking to me.

To him, I was a bad daughter who made bad decisions.

My dad treated my mom and siblings the same way.

My mom was so submissive and compliant with my father's wishes for most of my memories as a child, and so when she became angry, I wrote the poem about menopause as a way to understand her, since we weren't speaking with each other.

(pensive music) - Now blood comes out of her mouth with every no, she makes the 10,220th meal for dad.

Too salty, too bland.

Too bad, her silence says.

All the chicken blood wasted in the lidded trash can.

Perfectly good blood to draw circles around the wrong words.

Bad wife, bad mother, bad cook, bad cleaner, bad person.

Here she is, making another meal.

Now she's on the ground to see the dust she can't see, without glasses she doesn't have.

Now she is thinking about flowers, all the ones she never got from dad.

Her chicken blood moves her to the flower store.

She buys potted orchids with all of the grocery money.

(steady music) I spent a lot of time thinking about what my parents went through.

I wonder if they've ever been curious about what I went through.

I don't think my dad ever understood that he put a lifelong wedge between me and my siblings.

(steady music) (bright music) I think many private experiences and taboo questions that we hold in ourselves are really hard to say out loud.

One thing that has been very unexpected, but also empowering is writing poetry to ask really hard questions and give voice to things that really want to be heard.

- No more hate!

No more hate!

No more hate!

No more hate!

No more hate!

- This is my sincerest honor to pass the mic to Cindy T.. - [Cindy] On the day of the vigil for the Atlanta Spa shooting, I felt so scared and overwhelmed.

It was like a string that just kind of pulled me to the vigil, from bed to the podium.

True American sentences.

One, he looks at my name tag and asks, "What's your real name?"

I tell him that Cindy is what's printed on my birth certificate.

"What's your middle name?"

My.

"I knew it was in there somewhere."

Two, on Franklin Avenue, he bumps into me and says, "Watch where you're going."

Three, I stand at a bus stop and an old man turns to me: "I fought in 'Nam.

You're here because of me."

Four, on Grand, he bumps into me and shoves me to the side.

Five, in an Ikea parking lot, I yield.

He signals me to roll down the window of my U-Haul truck, laughs.

"Not too bad for an Asian woman."

And speeds away.

I remember getting really choked up because it brought back so many memories from my own life.

I remember seeing people crying and being stunned that it wasn't just me.

I wasn't the only one.

When people think of an Asian woman, they don't imagine an angry woman.

And I wanted to help people be unafraid, to be angry.

We are full humans who have a full range of emotions.

People should learn to see us as full people.

(bright music) The book I'm working on now is about the long-term estrangement in my family and the fragility of forgiveness.

It doesn't offer closure, but invites us to make meaning from the family stories we leave out.

- [Hung] You remember this picture?

How old do you think you were in here?

- [Cindy] Two years old?

I vaguely remember it because even though I'm older, I remember picking you up and you said "Uppy."

(Hung and Cindy laughing) - [Cindy] Writing about our family and specifically about my experience with estrangement has been really cathartic.

It's like, being able to say so much with just a few words and capture it emotionally with an image and not feeling pressured to be factual or biographic.

- Yeah, I mean, it saddens me and like, it hurts me a lot to know that, you know, you had to go through all these things when we were growing up, and maybe a lot of it was either I was maybe kind of oblivious or not as supportive as I could have been, but I'm glad at least we're talking about it now and trying to do the best we can to help ourselves and help each other.

- Once, I heard a monk say, "We need a path, not to go from here to there, but to go from here to here."

A really good poem will always meet you where you're at.

So I hope to write poetry that will meet people exactly where they're at and it will give them exactly what they need, when they're reading it.

(bright music) When I woke up, the ground moved back and forth, like this poem, asking, is this forgiveness?

A rock shakes like a river to remember it was once fire or dust.

(bright cello music) You, banana, lying down everywhere in the city because you carry 14 months of blue sky and sunshine in your body.

A comma telling me, come on, slow down.

And suddenly, I don't know what on means because I take little words for granted.

But every banana knows tiny words have the most power.

Hearing them said from inside fruit baskets, meal trays, and altars, before and after prayers, before and after passings.

(bright cello music)