When I packed my bags for the 3rd annual Impact + Profit Conference held in December in Los Angeles, I was excited to hear from the many entrepreneurs, creatives, researchers and advocates who would gather to talk about telling stories for social good. Even Jane Fonda, the brilliant actor and longtime activist was on the docket.
But, to me, one name stood out among the others: Nijla Mu’min, the writer and director of the short film, Water Angel. Her work had been living with me long before I ever set foot in the conference space. I found myself counting the minutes until I could finally meet her.
Water Angel, executive produced and funded by the MTV Staying Alive Foundation, is a quiet but devastatingly powerful exploration of the Black maternal health crisis. In just 13 minutes, it confronts medical racism, reproductive health inequities, and the consequences of not being believed – all through an intimate, poetic love story.
The film asks an urgent question: What does it take for Black voices to be fully heard—and what happens when they’re not?
When I first watched Water Angel I couldn’t shake it. Weeks later, it was still shaping my thinking. The portrayal of Jawny – a Black woman whose pain during pregnancy is minimized by medical providers – felt painfully familiar, not just as a story, but as a reflection of the realities that data have long confirmed: Black women in the U.S. are significantly more likely to experience pregnancy-related complications and mortality, often rooted in bias and dismissal of their pain.
At the same time, Water Angel resists reducing Black women to trauma alone. Water – Jawny’s refuge as a swimmer – becomes a metaphor for freedom, intuition, and reclamation. The film shows violence and pain, yes. But it also shows agency, love, and transformation.
What made meeting Nijla at I+P especially powerful for me was realizing how deeply our work had already intersected – before we even met.
After watching Water Angel, our team at the Johns Hopkins Center for Communication Programs immediately knew we wanted to bring it into our local work in Baltimore. We shared the film with the B’more for Healthy Babies (BHB) Core Implementation Team (CIT), which includes colleagues from more than 100 community partner organizations.
Together, we developed a 90-minute session titled “Empathy Matters: Identifying Inflection Points in the Journey to Maternal Equity.” We began the session with a simple yet grounding icebreaker question: How did you end up working in the field of maternal and child health, and what keeps you passionate about this work? The responses highlighted that, although our paths into public health may differ, our core values – commitment to dignity, respect, and care – are shared.
After this engaging discussion, we screened the film “Water Angel,” which set the stage for our exploration of empathy versus sympathy. We then delved into a discussion about inflection points, examining the critical moments where systems either fail people or choose to show up differently in their journeys towards maternal equity.
Standing at I+P, co-hosted by CCP and the Social Impact Entertainment Society, and listening to Nijla speak about her intentions for Water Angel, I was struck by how aligned her vision is with CCP’s approach to communication for social change.
Nijla doesn’t just want “eyes” on her film. She wants impact – sustained, meaningful impact that challenges the status quo. In that way, Water Angel is not just a film; it’s a tool for reflection, dialogue, and action.
While some stories shout to demand attention, this one whispers – and somehow lands even harder.
Standing at the intersection of storytelling, empathy, and evidence matters deeply. From global initiatives to our hometown efforts like B’more for Healthy Babies, we know that change doesn’t come from deficit-based narratives. It comes from honoring lived experience, leading with empathy, and believing people when they tell us who they are and what they need.
Meeting Nijla Mu’min felt like a full-circle moment, proof that when storytelling is rooted in truth and care, it doesn’t just resonate on screen. It ripples outward, shaping conversations, influencing practice, and reminding us why we do this work in the first place.
I was honored to witness – and be part of – such necessary storytelling.
