where we gathered the creative powerhouses behind

your favorite Disney+ movies and series together for a real,

no-holds-barred conversation about identity,

community, and driving social change through storytelling.

I'm your host, Brea Baker.

I'm so excited to be joined by some of the brilliant talent

from Walt Disney Animation Studios, who recently worked

on "Raya and the Last Dragon."

Today, we're going to be talking about what it means to be first-

and second-generation American.

I was made fun of at school.

I purposely stopped speaking Arabic.

My peers that weren't Asian, obviously,

would remind me that I was Asian.

When you do have people behind the camera

telling the stories that are authentic to them,

it shines through.

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BREA BAKER: Hi, everyone.

I'm so excited to get into this conversation, because today,

we're going to talk about what it means to be first-

or second-generation American, how that's impacted each of you

personally, and also how it's shaped and inspired

you as storytellers.

I just want to start by asking, what

does it feel like to have made something

that means so much to people?

I'm so grateful that I was a part of the film.

And it was incredible to send a message of hope and unity

in order to build something bigger than oneself.

I had the privilege of growing up in many different places

and seeing different cultures.

So that aspect of "Raya," of all these cultures

coming together as one, was something that I feel like was

something personal to myself.

Definitely.

I mean, and as the writer, this has to be a dream come true.

It's a thing that I always wanted to give my kids,

an opportunity to look up at the screen and see a hero that

looks like them, that they could put on a cape and a hat

and a sword and feel like they could save the world.

'Cause it makes "Raya" such an incredible

thing that even exists,

but to be part of it is a dream beyond something

I could have ever hoped for.

When I first told my parents I wanted

to be an animator, first thing they responded with was,

what's an animator?

Coming from Cuba into the States,

they really didn't understand all the careers

that you could possibly have.

So when I told them that my dream was

to really work in films and tell stories,

they were excited for me.

They just didn't understand how you got there.

And neither did I, to be honest.

Now that I've brought my parents into the studio,

and I've been able to show them the process of animation

and how we create performances that then you

can see in the movies, they have a better understanding

of what it is I do every day.

It's been really incredible and rewarding,

as a first-generation Cuban American,

to be able to share with them the success behind the films

that I've made and seeing them be so proud of me.

So let's jump right in.

These words mean so many different things

to different people, based on where we come from.

So I think it's best to start with the basics of,

how do you each identify, as either first-

or second-generation American, and what has

that experience meant to you?

I guess, in technical terms, I would consider myself

first-generation American because I was born in Egypt,

and then I immigrated away from there.

Same with my parents.

But in some ways, I consider myself second-generation

just because I've spent most of my life in the West,

whereas my parents spent most of their life in Egypt.

And the cultural divide that we have between each other

is so vast that I kind of differentiate the

cultural generations that way.

That's interesting because I actually consider myself

first-generation, even though my parents were born in Cuba,

and then they immigrated here.

Now I'm looking at it differently.

I would consider myself a second-generation and my parents

first-generation.

I mean, I was born here.

My parents are refugees.

And so I think I'm like Rebecca.

It's always the generational thing.

I was like, I always thought I was first-generation, 'cause

they were refugees, and I was the first-generation American

in the family.

But I guess, by Yasser's definition,

I'm a second-generation American.

The thing that I think defines it the most for me is being,

like, in between cultures, right?

Like, for my parents, they are definitely Vietnamese.

And there's obviously a cultural separation between me

and them in that way, even though they're my parents

and I love them.

But then I also don't fit in completely.

I grew up in southern Arkansas, and

so I was always reminded that I didn't

look like everybody else.

So I was kind of like an in-between American,

in that sense, you know, 'cause my peers that weren't Asian,

obviously, would remind me that I was Asian,

or Vietnamese specifically.

And then my parents were always like, oh,

you're so not like us.

You're totally American.

By living in that middle place is where I think myself

and a lot of children of immigrants have grown up in.

A lot of us don't neatly fit into categories.

Yeah, that's so true.

On the one hand, feeling so American, and then

on the other hand, being reminded by

peers that you are not neatly in that box.

Would you all say that you had a similar experience to Qui

in that regard, or was that different based on where you

lived? 'Cause I know Miami is a very different

experience than Arkansas.

When you go to Miami, if you don't speak Spanish,

you feel out of place.

Right.

REBECCA PEREZ: So it wasn't until I moved out and actually

moved, after college, to San Francisco that I experienced

something outside of my culture and realized just how

different I was in comparison.

And there is a bit of, like, figuring out how

to assimilate to a situation.

I almost feel like, as immigrants, you almost feel

like, depending on the situation you're in, you lean

into whatever works, right?

And when you're at home, you're whatever works there.

But it's all you.

That's the irony.

It's really hard to find your identity

when you're kind of faced with that situation.

For me, living in Egypt and the U.S. and Australia,

they all have very different cultures

and very different ideas.

Trying to fit in was always a challenge because I always felt

like I had to change myself.

When we first immigrated from Egypt to Australia,

the big cultural divide there was so drastic.

And we moved into this small,

majority-white small town, maybe about 100,000 people.

So we were only maybe one of two families that were immigrants.

I was made fun of at school, and I purposely

stopped speaking Arabic.

It was all because I was trying so hard to fit in.

To me, it's a little bit of an unfortunate thing, because if I

were to go back to that, I would more

embrace that heritage, because to me,

that's far more enriching.

And it's so interesting to see the difference

between that coming of age and, like,

that fitting in happening when you're more

fully formed in your personality versus when you're a child

and you feel some of those pressures a bit deeper.

So now how did you navigate that balancing act?

Trying to fit in while also trying to be authentically

who you are in multiple homes?

So I found comfort in finding people in the community who

shared the similar ideas, who embraced my background

and what I have to offer, and then just kind of, like,

situating myself within those groups.

Introducing those groups also to my family

so that my family knows, like, what I'm surrounding

myself with, and then just kind of keeping

that circle pretty tight.

Yeah, and what about you two?

I think I also-- in hindsight now,

I realize that the friends I befriended were similar to me

but very different, right?

There were also kids who had multiple cultures,

and in every aspect, right? 'Cause even Caucasian friends

who come from maybe a place that they don't fully fit in-- maybe

there's someone who identifies in the LGBTQ community--

already, they're dealing with multiple versions of themselves

in different spaces.

Yeah.

I mean, I don't know how much I tried to be anything.

You know, you kind of just accidentally do that, right?

Like, you are what your friends are, right?

Like, I grew up primarily in a middle-class,

like, Black neighborhood.

So that was definitely part of who I was.

It wasn't till I left that neighborhood

that I realized that I wasn't exactly like my friends,

you know?

At a certain point, your world is

first your house, then your neighborhood, then the city.

And then it gets bigger and bigger, right?

Right.

But one of the things that helped affect my self-esteem

was a grand lie that my parents told me, and my grandma told me.

And that was that my small town, in isolation,

was the only town that wasn't Vietnamese in all of America.

Even when I knew it was a lie, I held onto it

'cause it was the one little thing that was like,

you know what?

It might not be actually true, but maybe I can make it true.

Right, yeah.

And so it was stuff like that that

kind of helped build me up.

I felt empowered by my identity in kind

of the most indirect way.

When I was really small, I couldn't

speak English basically at all.

And my teachers told my parents that they needed

to stop speaking Vietnamese to me so I could

have a chance to speak English.

But this meant my grandmother, who only spoke Vietnamese,

couldn't speak to me anymore.

And I remember the conversation she

told me when I was around four.

"Right now, I have to stop talking to you.

What I need you to do is learn how to talk like them.

I know the superpower you're going to have one day is going

to be speaking like them and telling our stories using

their language."

It was the thing that made me have a mission.

It's my mission to tell their stories,

but it's also my mission to tell the stories

of anyone who often only gets to see themselves

in one kind of light.

How do you think being an American

with multiple cultural identities

has shaped your creative voice?

Especially in animation, it tends to be

a very male-dominated industry.

And I think, personally, what I feel

I bring that's authentic to myself--

and I wish that more women would join the field--

is the woman's perspective.

Right.

When you do have people behind the camera

telling the stories that are authentic to them,

it shines through.

And I feel like, as an animator, that's what I try to bring.

I gravitate towards strong, independent female characters

that I can bring a voice to, that I can bring that