It's not all about like, you know, out there screaming and protesting,
and we have to do that, we have to, that's our right as Americans.
But we also have to show the other side of it that we're not just that.
So we touched on this earlier you know,
we talked about the power of photography,
but what is the role of the photographer in social justice?
Photography speaks in ways that people can't speak for themselves.
Sometimes -- like they say a photograph is worth 1000 words.
Sometimes the photograph has more packed in it
than even what
the photographer even expected their photographs to say.
The Black Lives Matter protest and George Floyd-
Those images went around the world.
That was really the awakening.
Like, people finally understood the struggle
and maybe not understood, but at least got some sense
of what the struggle is for a typical African-American.
I was, you know, during the time of coming of age,
the war in Vietnam was pretty much in full force, and
I became really intrigued with the images coming out of that conflict.
When I think about many of the photographs that came out of Vietnam,
that showed the atrocities.
It informed popular opinion that produced greater protest against the war.
You know, when I look at the situation and currently with George Floyd
and we look at the power of images, how they could transcend and use
this global language to help people understand racism in America.
So photography is a very essential tool
that's needed to change one's thought process.
The protests in L.A., where I was they're about five minutes away
from where I was living, and
it was a very interesting thing to observe.
Basically, a sea of White
photographers almost breaking their neck so they can get a photo of a burning car.
So because the idea is like, "Oh, well, I recognize this noise --
I know that noise fits in these photos
that I've seen from the past.
So let me make that same image
about these people
and what they're protesting,"
not knowing what they're trying to achieve
and what story they're trying to tell and not understanding their narrative.
I feel like when the BLM movement
like escalated and it was like we were--
People were caring more about the visibility of Black photographers.
And I'll never forget it was like one week of just after George
Floyd, like all of these brands and companies like calling all of us
and wanting to put us in like roundtables and galleries.
And I was like, first of all, this is amazing,
but where have you been and are these calls going to stop?
I remember I was literally like having to check a producer and be like,
Listen, like, I'm actually like putting myself in danger,
being out here and doing this, like, you need to have some respect,
you know, for the demand. I get it.
You have a job to do, but people are literally dying
and people are literally fighting
for something bigger than, you know, you making a deadline.
I guess, to go back to what we're talking
about, controlling our own narratives.
Because when it comes to Black people
being murdered by the police
or any sort of, you know, violence that they feel
like we brought upon ourselves from those interactions,
the people that took those videos
that broke everything open
in most of these situations, like Philando Castile and George
Floyd, were Black people.
It wasn't their intention. They're not
photographers per se,
but they were the ones that took control of that narrative and let the world know.
I think it's, I think it's really important how we frame
the optics around these situations
and that it's so important not just to
show one side of any event.
Like for me, I was, you know, it was so sensational.
You're watching CNN, you go outside, you hear the helicopters, you're in L.A.,
it was all over, it was in everyone's consciousness.
And so after the event, you know, I deliberately went out the next day
and photographed the community of people
in Venice and Santa Monica coming out
and cleaning up just so we could have that other side of the narrative.
It's not all about like, you know, out there
screaming and protesting, and we have to do that.
We have to, that's our, that's our right as Americans.
But we also have to show the
other side of it that we're not just that.
The image that I made in front of Trump Tower with the man
with the raised fist in front of the American flag
in many ways changed my life.
But there was a humongous emotional toll
that it took on me that I don't think a lot of people realized.
You know, I've been working in photography
for a couple of years. Felt like I hit a wall
and I stepped out that day as a protester.
Wasn't the first protest I attended
in New York, and when I made the image and I posted it,
I had never experienced what being viral felt like
or looked like. All my socials are going crazy.
We're talking millions of impressions,
50 plus million impressions.
I wake up
later that evening.
Time Magazine is calling.
Ellen Show is emailing me,
every magazine that I've ever wanted to work with.
Rolling Stone, GQ, Vogue is emailing me, asking me to work, and it just felt,
it felt so bizarre because
this all happened because George Floyd was murdered on camera.
And I just felt like a Black man is finally achieving his dreams
because another Black man was killed on camera.
And then, you know, a couple of days later,
I covered the George Floyd memorial in Brooklyn
for the New Yorker, a publication that I never imagined
that I would be covering. And on my way to shoot for The New Yorker,
I get the proof from Time magazine
with my image for the next issue.
But it felt like, it felt like I, like,
won a Grammy at a funeral, right?
I couldn't--
There was no way I could celebrate
this.
My friend Nessa,
Colin Kaepernick and her were together.
And in the midst of that, we had the whole
kneeling situation that happened.
And as a photographer who was close
to them, it was just difficult.
I didn't want the assignment because I knew how heavy it is to document
people that you know. But like I would watch
the world demonize this man that like
is probably like one of the nicest people I've ever met in life.
And watch it happen.
Death threats.
Loved ones.
And it was hard.
It was difficult to watch that happen. And so he started
the Know Your Rights Camp
and I'm there documenting the process
of what's going on with this.
And so I was able to be part of the team that was behind the lens of that.
So that's documented
to go along with the other narrative
that was being created for him.
It takes 20 times more effort to cover courage,
and it takes a very little effort
to cover violence.
So it's very easy for you to project violence
because I mean, everyone has like a, it's like a shot list,
you know, "A,
I need to get a burning car.
I need to get." - hand in the air.
Yeah.
Like you really go deep to find the truth,
you have to really take care of your mental health.
Being vulnerable, it's a sense of power in that.
You know, and we talked about,
you know, being a Black man, we can't cry, you know, it makes you weak.
And I remember after, you know,
getting the Time cover, you know, and my career happened so fast.
I got my first camera in 2013.
Time Cover 2015, now interviews at City Hall.
Now, you know, I'm on this platform.
All this attention, page going viral.
Everybody wants to interview you.
And I tried to kill myself.
You know, I was overwhelmed.
I was, you know, taking in so much energy.
And I still have my own mental issues from seeing people get shot and losing
so many friends to gun violence. It was just too overwhelming.
And I cracked, you know, I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating.
I was literally working the overnight job.
And then I went straight back on the front lines
and then would go back to work and then go right back to the front lines.
Do interviews and then back to the front lines.
Harassed by police and things like that.
And it got to the point where I cracked, to the point where my mom had to stop me
and she had to call the police on me
to stop me from hurting myself.
And the interesting thing about it when the police came to get me,
you know, protocol, they said,
they got to put the cuffs on you and things like that.
The police officers knew who I was and was telling me,
I have so much to live for,
you know, and my work is outstanding.
And it was, it was kind of like a wake up call.
I like to work with a sense of permission,
because it's the subject like I am not important here like this
it is never really about me at all.
And so you're wanting to get permission to tell this person's story.
An image exists forever and then people see that and act upon it.
When you're dealing with communities that are marginalized,
that are never seen, that don't have their voice heard.
Let them speak.
I feel like we also have to be careful about, as photographers, in terms
of projecting, like, our subject matter and protecting.
Because when you try to go out to show, for instance,
that a subject is violent or this is struggle or poverty.
And then you have a subject that has so much strength
and character and there's so much power in their story,
you've actually robbed an audience of hope.
One of the things that you know, as photographers, we have to ask ourselves
that question is what would you want to be known for?
Hmm. Right.
Authenticity and projection of hope.
Where would we be without photography,
without proof of what
we have been through?
In a country of revisionist historians,
we extend gratitude to those who chose
to put their bodies on the line
in the name of truth.
We honor those who
speak up against prejudice and racial bias when it comes to deciding
who gets to create and tell these stories in mainstream media.
They are the lightworkers of our history.
When I first discovered photography, Gordon was one of first photographers
that I found out about. Gordon Parks is a huge influence on all photography,
not just African-Americans.
Before I even really knew his name I would just see his images.
I remember how it made me feel,
it was like, "Oh, this is the power of imagery."
You know, the Oprah dinner, and it was like, who's shooting this?
And it's like the Obamas.
It's just the ones that we look up to are really here.
We are living with the legends.