Fly In Power, Co-Directed by Yin Q and Yoon Grace Ra, sets the tone for a very earnest and deep dive into the reality of sex workers (especially those of Asian descent and migrants) with an early dedication to the late Song Yang: a Chinese massage worker who fell to her death during a police raid in Flushing, Queens, NYC in 2017. A year after the tragedy, a group of friends, family members, and community allies gathered in Flushing, NY to honor her and from this vigil, a movement was born.
Red Canary Song (RSC)— a grassroots collective of Migrant Massage Workers, Sex Workers, and Allies of Asian Diaspora— believe that mutual aid and connection to accessible resources as well as local community collaboration endeavor towards migrant justice, labor rights, and the decriminalization of sex work as a whole.
Immediately in the film, the relationship between cultural gendered sexism is married to the community that is created by female labor. While cooking traditional fare, “Charlotte”, a Korean massage worker, shares how she was immediately brought into a world where she was deemed “lesser” than her brothers as daughters were meant to work and provide labor for the family and as such, were not offered the opportunity to become educated. She shares her nourishment and her histories with the production team, recalling the parentification of herself of younger siblings and how her parents would care for their neighbors with a zeal that was never shown to their own offspring.
In response to Song Yang’s death and the Atlanta Spa Shootings in 2021, RSC offered mutual aid and support through groceries and cash aid. These community outreach efforts were precisely what Charlotte needed to survive the threatening surge of Asian-centric hate and through genuine relationship-building by RSC members, she was inspired to become not only a recipient of aid, but a core organizer.
Audience members may watch this and feel a similar sense of woman and queer-led healing present in Alice Walker’s “The Color Purple” in which she argues that only sisterhood can truly grieve, heal from, and protect against the harm caused by men. Similarly, RSC (and the team this documentary focuses on) believe in “Rights, Not Raids” and “Resources, Not Rescue” while distributing their message through oral history, multimedia work, and policy authorship in conjunction with directly impacted workers. This documentary becomes a tool for self-advocacy and autonomy for sex workers instead of a sensationalist view of those who need “saving”.
Fly In Power focuses on lived experiences of those actually affected by gendered police violence and systemic oppression. They discuss police raids that disproportionately affect undocumented, Asian, BIPOC, and queer communities; many of which are carried out without any type of interpreter. Even deeper, they distinguish the misinformation of “trafficking” myths regarding the distribution of sex workers and massage workers who are being priced out of hubs like New York City by gentrification. They dive into the contradictory moralistic goals to “save” or “rescue” “trafficked” sex workers without regard to their autonomy or rights as oftentimes undocumented individuals (oftentimes also including anti-black rhetoric aligning their labor with slavery) and how they are often exploited in “24-hour” work days.
During the film, the trust built between the cast, RSC, and production is palpable and food, massage, music, and grief is perpetually centered as the collective grows and the community builds. The documentary follows organization and policy as tools to improve labor conditions and social perception of sex workers while reiterating that the basest right for all people is autonomy over their own lives and deaths which they assert has been taken from many in their communities.
They share stories of others in their community: those who have passed, those who had their choices taken from them, and those who have grown despite the oppression they have faced. The “Nourishment of Body and Soul” becomes a tenet by which they live and without stating it explicitly, the documentary culminates in the idea that these women, non-binary, and trans individuals are planting trees in whose shade they may never rest.
Beautifully edited, earnestly conceived, and poignantly presented, Fly In Power is a must-watch for those interested in learning about individual autonomy, community action, and the indomitable human spirit. Highly Recommended. Editor's Choice.
Which library audiences should see this sex worker rights and migrant justice documentary?
Fly In Power would be a powerful addition to public and academic library collections focused on social justice, labor rights, gender studies, LGBTQ+ issues, Asian American experiences, and community activism. The documentary’s emphasis on lived experience and mutual aid offers viewers an intimate perspective rarely seen in mainstream media portrayals of sex workers, particularly migrant massage workers and members of the Asian diaspora. Libraries serving patrons interested in grassroots organizing, abolitionist movements, or contemporary discussions surrounding policing and labor will find significant value in the film’s approach.
Because the documentary centers oral histories, collective care, and firsthand testimony, it also works well for audiences interested in documentary filmmaking that privileges community voices over detached reporting. While the subject matter is emotionally heavy and politically charged, the film’s warmth, trust-building, and focus on human connection make it highly engaging and accessible for thoughtful adult audiences.
Is this documentary a good choice for community screenings or discussion-based programming?
Yes. Fly In Power is especially well suited for community screenings, advocacy programming, or discussion groups centered on labor rights, gendered violence, policing, migration, and mutual aid networks. Its focus on collective organizing and personal storytelling creates numerous entry points for meaningful conversation, particularly around autonomy, harm reduction, and how marginalized communities support one another outside traditional institutions.
The documentary would pair especially well with panels or programming involving social workers, labor organizers, Asian American community groups, LGBTQ+ organizations, or advocates working in migrant justice and public health spaces. Its emphasis on oral history and self-advocacy also makes it valuable for conversations about representation and who gets to tell stories about vulnerable communities. Though the material may be intense for some viewers, the film’s compassion and deeply human perspective help ground difficult discussions in empathy and lived experience.
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