The Weight of Words: Poh Si Teng’s ‘American Doctor’ and the Silence of Genocide
There’s a moment in Poh Si Teng’s journey that haunts me. She stands before an audience, her young daughter in the front row, and declares, “This is all the money I saved for you, my child. Maybe one day you will understand why.” It’s a line that cuts through the noise of film festivals and industry chatter, a raw admission of sacrifice that forces us to confront the cost of bearing witness. Teng didn’t just empty her bank account to make American Doctor—she emptied herself.
What makes this particularly fascinating is the way Teng’s story challenges our assumptions about filmmaking. Here’s a director who spent years behind the scenes, helping others realize their visions, only to step into the spotlight with a project that feels less like a debut and more like a last stand. “I didn’t have any more words,” she admits, a year into the Gaza genocide. It’s a sentiment that resonates deeply in an age where words often feel insufficient, even complicit.
The Silence That Speaks Volumes
From my perspective, Teng’s decision to pivot from journalism to filmmaking isn’t just a career shift—it’s a rebellion against the limitations of language. As a journalist, she saw the spectrum of humanity, from its cruelest acts to its noblest gestures. But in Gaza, she encountered a silence that words couldn’t penetrate. Personally, I think this is where American Doctor becomes more than a documentary; it’s a testament to the power of images to carry what language fails to express.
One thing that immediately stands out is Teng’s choice to focus on doctors—Dr. Mark Perlmutter, Dr. Thaer Ahmad, and Dr. Feroze Sidhwa—who provide emergency care in the midst of chaos. These aren’t just medical professionals; they’re moral anchors in a world unmoored by violence. What many people don’t realize is that by centering their stories, Teng isn’t just documenting a crisis—she’s humanizing it. She’s saying, “Look at these people. Look at what they endure. Now look at yourself.”
The Cost of Bearing Witness
The financial and emotional toll of this project is staggering. Teng liquidated her savings, accepted lower compensation from her team, and faced the very real threat of violence against journalists. “They shoot people with cameras there,” she says bluntly. If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t just a film—it’s an act of defiance.
What this really suggests is that storytelling, in its purest form, is an act of resistance. Teng’s decision to raise funds in Malaysia, where she found solidarity, underscores a broader truth: when one society turns a blind eye, another may offer a lifeline. This raises a deeper question: What does it mean to create art in a world that often seems indifferent to its message?
The Title That Carries the Weight
A detail that I find especially interesting is Teng’s choice to title the film American Doctor. “There is too much blood on our hands,” she explains. This isn’t just a provocative statement—it’s an indictment. By using “American,” Teng forces viewers to confront their own complicity, whether through political inaction or collective silence.
In my opinion, this is where the film transcends its subject matter. It’s not just about Gaza; it’s about us. It’s about the choices we make, the stories we choose to tell (or ignore), and the legacies we leave behind. Teng’s hope that audiences “will not be okay” with what they see is both ambitious and necessary. Because if we’re okay with it, what does that say about us?
The Future of Witnessing
As I reflect on Teng’s journey, I’m struck by the parallels to our current moment. In a world where information is weaponized and truth is often buried under layers of propaganda, American Doctor feels like a beacon. It reminds us that sometimes, the most radical act is to simply show up, to bear witness, and to refuse to look away.
What this really suggests is that the future of documentary filmmaking lies not just in the stories we tell, but in the risks we’re willing to take to tell them. Teng’s decision to empty her bank account, to risk everything, is a reminder that art—true art—demands something of us. It demands our attention, our empathy, and sometimes, our sacrifice.
A Final Thought
Personally, I think American Doctor is more than a film—it’s a challenge. It challenges us to confront our silence, our complicity, and our capacity for change. As Teng puts it, “This is your chance to say something.” Whether through our votes, our voices, or our actions, the question remains: What will we say? And more importantly, will anyone listen?
