Dare to Bear Witness
Incognegro In America Part 2: Capturing Moments Of Humanity
“Here is the importance of bearing witness. We do not grow alone, talents do not prosper in a hothouse of ambition and neglect and hungry anger; love does not arrive by horseback or prayer or good intentions. We need the eyes, the arms, and the witness of others to grow, to know that we have existed, that we have mattered, that we have made our mark. And each of us has a distinct mark that colors our surroundings, that flavors the recipe of ‘experience’ in which we find ourselves; but we remain blind, without identity, until someone witnesses us.”
Tennessee Williams, Follies of God: Tennessee Williams and the Women of the Fog by James Grissom
As someone who has held a camera my whole life and who has gotten lost looking at black and white images — from fashion to portraits, I never expected one shoot to personalize the power and vulnerability of a photo. The protesting turned riots, curfews, COVID-19, and quarantine were the perfect ingredients to stir up a range of emotions after weeks spent alternating between tears of horror, pain, and celebration of the beauty of humanity connecting. A broken toe may have halted me from taking to the streets, but there was no way not to feel the intensity as helicopters flew above me and sirens became part of the urban soundtrack.
That afternoon I was preparing for a photo shoot with a friend, Justin, and both of us were comfortable to remain alone in our own processing of the current events in lieu of taking this time for ourselves. Had we understood beforehand the healing that can emerge from genuine connection we never would have considered rescheduling. In the end, perhaps our desire to see another human overtook our desire to wallow in contemplation, so we proceeded.
What I came to realize was that the man coming over was offering me the opportunity to see him. But would he let me in and reveal himself? Would I allow myself to be vulnerable taking the shots? I wasn’t worried there wouldn’t be great images. Every single part of his body is easy on the eyes; if I couldn’t get a good shot or like ten, I needed to reevaluate ever picking up a camera again. But each shot would reveal me as well — how I saw his beauty, strength, tenderness, sexuality — through my lens. We’d known each other for a decade, but not in this capacity. This was meant to be an intimate shoot, how deep was I willing to go?
He arrived. Hugs and a check-in were required between us, two consenting adults. Social distancing in the streets yes, but there’s only so long a person can go without touch and at this point I’m taking my chances in the name of sanity and humanity in a closed circle. This was not the normal pre-shoot discussion of wardrobe and lighting. This was an emotional check-in between two single people who live alone, in need of physical contact; two Black people in a country that is burning from centuries of systemic racism and oppression. In his morning post, he mentioned wearing glasses to seem less threatening, and spoke of the legitimate fear of being a Black man jogging through white neighborhoods, which as we have all recently seen can end in death. It all just got a little more real.
I got us some water and we took a moment to talk it out. So much to process. Time constraints with curfews. A nation divided. Real fear as Black people. Looters who seized an opportunity during peaceful protests to make all Black people look bad. People of all races making humanity look bad. The reality of living in a country that has never been equal. A country that exists because they decimated the Native population, used Africans for free labor, kept women subjugated, polluted the earth, and is now facing the reality that you can’t just snap your fingers and make this inequality thing go away. People are rightfully angry and frustrated. We joked that maybe we could even come out of this thanking Trump for emboldening racists to come out of the closet so that we can begin to heal as a nation, as we hash it out and vote him out. We’ve all had our moments in history, but the only place this country has ever been “great” for is White men.
I keep thinking, “destruction before creation”, a Danielle LaPorte Truthbomb quote. And I don’t mean the senseless destruction of property, but the destruction of unjust systems that have not worked and are not working, for the vast majority of this planet’s inhabitants. I don’t want to go back to “how things were”. Things were neither “normal” nor healthy. I don’t want to recommence the destruction of Mother Earth; I don’t want to support corporate greed; I have no wish to entrust my physical well-being to a failing healthcare system controlled by a pharmaceutical industry that profits from disease management; I have no desire to participate in a failing educational system where I’ve taught 4th graders in private schools who were more advanced than high school sophomores in certain public schools. We are a nation divided by labels, ignorance, and stereotypes with a president who pours gasoline and spits fire into the chasm.
After some time to express our thoughts and connect, we started the shoot. We both agreed this would be a good escape for the day. I thought the intimacy and lighting of my bedroom made it our best location option. We relocated and continued to chat while laying across the bed. I revealed that part of why I kept talking was to make him feel more at ease; in truth it was for my own comfort as well. I put on a Spotify playlist I’d curated for the occasion and we got to work. I moved around him as he stood, lay down, or just existed. I wanted to capture the essence of him and body parts/angles that I found interesting, stimulating, or enticing in various layers of clothing. I took moments to ask him to breathe which suddenly took on a whole new meaning in light of George Floyd, Eric Garner, and those before them. I took chances with certain shots that revealed what turned me on as a camera-wielding voyeur. We laughed and lived in the moment of the afternoon and not the mood of the outside world. This was our creation time, a way of claiming a moment of peace and connection during an era that has mandated 6’ restrictions on human contact.
As we wrapped up, there was a mutual awareness of time as our phones simultaneously sounded the familiar alert. We were on day two of a curfew that was already assuming an unsettling degree of normalcy. After he left I began going through the photos and a greater story emerged as to what had taken place. He allowed me to see his essence that day and I captured some of those moments on film. It is the exposing and the witnessing that is important. I attempted to capture the beauty of a human being, a feeling expressing man who happens to be Black, in a world that has tried to dehumanize him because of the color of his skin. I’m not attempting to speak for his personal experience, but to the one over which many of us Black people have expressed frustration and pain, the experience of Human Not Seen As Human.
I couldn’t help but wonder how the world can be afraid of such beauty. I know there are people who genuinely lack the ability to empathize, but I believe most of us, once we truly see a person for who they are, can’t help but feel compassion, love and connection. Not the weighted “I love you” that is a defining moment in a relationship, but the unconditional “I see you and I love you”, one being to another, no strings attached, no weirdness, just hey, we’re both human, I see your beauty and I love you. I know that this is not only possible for myself, but for everyone who is open to it. In return, the person being witnessed feels acknowledged and validated, a treasure in a world where far too many act out in misguided attempts to feel seen in any light at all, positive or negative.
