Interviews with PhotoWings

A few years ago I had the pleasure of speaking with PhotoWings, whose mission it is to highlight and help facilitate the power of photography to influence the world.

Below is the feature and a few videos from their site.


In this video, award-winning photojournalist Ed Kashi tell us about some of his recent work and what motivates him in his career.

Ed Kashi is a renowned photojournalist, filmmaker, speaker and educator who has been making images and telling stories for 40 years. His restless creativity has continually placed him at the forefront of new approaches to visual storytelling. Dedicated to documenting the social and political issues that define our times, a sensitive eye and an intimate and compassionate relationship to his subjects are signatures of his intense and unsparing work. As a member of VII Photo Agency, Kashi has been recognized for his complex imagery and its compelling rendering of the human condition.

Kashi’s innovative approach to photography and filmmaking has produced a number of influential short films and earned recognition by the POYi Awards as 2015’s Multimedia Photographer of the Year. Kashi’s embrace of technology has led to creative social media projects for clients including National Geographic, The New Yorker, and MSNBC. From implementing a unique approach to photography and filmmaking in his 2006 Iraqi Kurdistan Flipbook, to paradigm shifting coverage of Hurricane Sandy for TIME in 2012, Kashi continues to create compelling imagery and engage with the world in new ways.

Along with numerous awards from World Press Photo, POYi, CommArts and American Photography, Kashi’s images have been published and exhibited worldwide. His editorial assignments and personal projects have generated nine books.

In 2002, Kashi in partnership with his wife, writer + filmmaker Julie Winokur, founded Talking Eyes Media. The non-profit company has produced numerous award-winning short films, exhibits, books, and multimedia pieces that explore significant social issues.

In 2019, The Enigma Room, an immersive installation, premiered at NYC’s Photoville festival, and has since been seen in Israel, the Netherlands, South Korea, and New Mexico, USA. The Enigma Room is an experimental multimedia projection created in collaboration with Brenda Bingham, Michael Curry, and Rachel Bolańos.


In this video, photography industry professionals Nancy Borowick, Ed Kashi, Erika Larsen, Olivier Laurent, John White, Michael Williamson, and Chuck Zoeller provide insight into the important ways that family photographs and family albums enrich our lives and contribute to the important work of documenting history.

Nancy Borowick is an internationally renowned photographer, author, teacher and speaker, delivering over 50 speaking engagements each year around the world, bringing her personal story to universities, hospitals, oncology units and community groups globally. Nancy is a graduate of the International Center of Photography and has exhibited her work in over 100 cities. Working regularly with the New York Times since 2013, Nancy has told the intimate stories of people and places from every corner of the globe winning her major accolades and awards, such as World Press Photo, Pictures of the Year International and most recently the 2018 Humanitarian Award from the organization Women That Soar for her photography and recent monograph, The Family Imprint.

Ed Kashi is an acclaimed photojournalist who uses photography, filmmaking and social media to explore geopolitical and social issues that define our times. He is also a dedicated educator and mentor to photographers around the world and lectures frequently on visual storytelling, human rights and the world of media. A leading voice in the photojournalism world, Kashi frequently lectures on a wide range of topics for arts institutions, universities, schools and professional organizations. His work has been published and exhibited worldwide, receiving numerous awards and honors. Through his editorial assignments and personal projects Kashi has published nine books, including Curse of the Black Gold: 50 Years of Oil in the Niger Delta, THREE, and Photojournalisms.

Erika Larsen is a photographer and multidisciplinary storyteller known for her essays, which document cultures that maintain close ties with nature. Her work has been included in the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery, National Geographic Society, Fotografiska Museum and Ajtte Sámi Museum. Larsen is a recipient of several grants and fellowships including a Fulbright Fellowship, New Jersey State Arts Council Fellowship, Women in Photography Individual Project Grant, Lois Roth Endowment and a World Press Award. Her first monograph, Sami-Walking With Reindeer, was released in 2013. Larsen is currently a Fellow and Explorer with National Geographic Society.

Olivier C. Laurent is an expert in social media, he partners with the Washington Post social team on photo-driven initiatives and contributes to the InSight blog. Before the Washington Post, Olivier was most recently at TIME, where he was editor of LightBox, the magazine’s former photography website, which provided a window into how great photographs are made and drew attention to groundbreaking work by photography masters and new pioneers. Before TIME, he was the associate editor of the British Journal of Photography starting in 2008, the world’s longest running photography magazine and the editor of FLTR, the first weekly magazine on smartphone photography.

John H. White is a renowned American photojournalist. His photography documents everyday lives and political events in American cities, particularly Chicago. He was a staff photographer on the Chicago Sun-Times for 35 years, and won a Pulitzer prize in 1982.

Michael Williamson was born in Washington, but grew up in a series of foster homes and orphanages in more than 15 states. It was an experience he says that has led to his interest in documenting the plight of the homeless for the past 18 years. He and a collaborator, writer Dale Maharidge, have produced three books.The first book, "Journey to Nowhere: The Saga of the New Underclass," inspired several songs on Bruce Springsteen's album "The Ghost of Tom Joad." The pair's book "And Their Children After Them" received a Pulitzer Prize for non-fiction in 1990. He shared a second Pulitzer Prize in 2000 with colleagues Carol Guzy and Lucian Perkins for their coverage of Kosovo. A photographer with The Washington Post since 1993, Williamson was named Newspaper Photographer of the Year in the 1995 Pictures of the Year contest and Photographer of the Year in 2000 by the National Press Photographers Association.

Chuck Zoeller is director of creative services for The Associated Press. A former photographer, he joined the AP as a photo editor at the news cooperative’s New York headquarters, and later served 14 years as director of the AP Images photo library — one of the world’s largest collections of news photos. He has curated several books and exhibitions of AP photography. A graduate of the University of Rochester, he has served as chair of the Pulitzer Prize jury in photography.


From websites like Photobucket to apps like Instagram, the digital age has seen an extraordinary explosion in everyday photography, but are we archiving these images appropriately for posterity? In this video, award-winning photographers Victor Blue, Mary Calvert, Ed Kashi, Laura Roumanos, Camille Seamen, and Adriana Zehbrauskas help us understand the importance of taking care with our photographic history, so that the images can continue to inform and inspire for years to come.

Victor J. Blue is a New York based photojournalist whose work is most often concerned with the legacy of armed conflict, human rights and the protection of civilian populations, and unequal outcomes resulting from policy and politics. He has worked in Central America since 2002, concentrating on social conflict in Guatemala, and since 2009 has photographed the Counterinsurgency war in Afghanistan. He has completed assignments in Syria, Mexico, El Salvador, Honduras, Iraq, and India, and has documented news stories and social issues across the United States. He worked as a staff photographer at The Record in Stockton CA, and holds a Masters Degree in Visual Communication from Ohio University. In 2010, 2011, and 2015 his work in Afghanistan was honored in Pictures of the Year International. In 2017 he garnered three awards in the Pictures of the Year International.

Mary Calvert is committed to using photography to affect meaningful social change and is known for producing work on gender-based human rights issues. Calvert has been focusing her journalistic attention on the continually under-reported relegation and abuse of women in the US Armed Forces. Her work “Sexual Assault in America’s Military” was awarded 1st Prize, Long Term Projects in the 2016 World Press Photo Contest. Calvert has won the Robert F. Kennedy Journalism Award twice and is a two-time Pulitzer Prize finalist in Feature Photography. Recently, Calvert was awarded the 2015 W. Eugene Smith Memorial Fund Fellowship.

Ed Kashi is an acclaimed photojournalist who uses photography, filmmaking and social media to explore geopolitical and social issues that define our times. He is also a dedicated educator and mentor to photographers around the world and lectures frequently on visual storytelling, human rights and the world of media. A leading voice in the photojournalism world, Kashi frequently lectures on a wide range of topics for arts institutions, universities, schools and professional organizations. His work has been published and exhibited worldwide, receiving numerous awards and honors.

Laura Roumanos is the executive producer and co-founder of United Photo Industries and Photoville where she has produced over 400 photo exhibitions and public projects worldwide. Originally from Sydney, Roumanos worked as a Producer and Arts Administrator before making the big move to NYC where she joined the Manhattan Theatre Club. She then headed to St. Ann’s Warehouse as the General Manager for several years where she worked to help present and produce large-scale international theatre, music, and art events.

Camille Seaman was born to a Native American (Shinnecock tribe) father and African American mother. She graduated from the State University of New York at Purchase, where she studied photography with Jan Groover and has since taken master workshops with Steve McCurry, Sebastiao Salgado, and Paul Fusco. Her photographs have been published in National Geographic Magazine, Italian Geo, The New York Times Sunday magazine, Newsweek, Outside, Zeit Wissen, Men’s Journal, Camera Arts, Issues, PDN, and American Photo among many others. Her photographs have received many awards including: a National Geographic Award, 2006; and the Critical Mass Top Monograph Award, 2007.

Adriana Zehbrauskas is a Brazilian documentary photographer based in Mexico City, Mexico. Her work covers mostly issues related to migration, religion and the aftermath of the violence related to the drug wars in Mexico as well as the daily life of sub and misrepresented communities. She contributes regularly to The New York Times, BuzzFeed News, The Washington Post and others. She’s one of the recipients of the first Getty Images Instagram Grant and was awarded Best Female Photojournalist -Troféu Mulher Imprensa (Brazil). Her mobile photography work was selected by Time Magazine for the “29 Instagrams That Defined the World in 2014″ and her project on Faith in Brazil and Mexico was awarded a Art & Worship World Prize by the Niavaran Artistic Creation Foundation.

Interview with EverydayClimateChange

"I'm way less interested in assigning blame anymore and much more interested in figuring out how we solve our problems".

I sat down to talk with James Whitlow Delano, the founder of @EverydayClimateChange, to share the work I've done over the years documenting the climate crisis around the world as well as community-level environmental challenges and solutions.


James Whitlow Delano / Founder of @everydayclimatechange on Instagram https://www.jameswhitlowdelano.com/
Instagram: @jameswhitlowdelano
Selected Books:
Empire: Impressions from China / https://www.amazon.com/Empire-Impress...
Black Tsunami: Japan 2011/ https://www.amazon.com/Black-Tsunami-...
The Mercy Project/Inochi

Interview with Photojournalism News

“I try to make a positive impact on the world”
Interview: Nezih Tavlas / July 7, 2021

https://www.photojournalismnews.com/ed-kashi


Photojournalism News: What drew you to photojournalism?
Ed Kashi:
 The desire to tell stories about issues that I move me either on a personal level or as a journalist, whether social or geopolitical. I wanted to be a writer and when I discovered photography and the powerful and inspiring work of photojournalists and documentary photographers, I was determined to apply my desires into this medium and the craft. Photojournalism has provided the perfect synthesis of my desires, to engage with the world, learn, observe, analyze and tell stories with meaning and impact.

Photojournalism News: What equipment do you use? Do you have a favourite lens/camera?
Ed Kashi:
I have used Canon equipment since 1977, including now working with their video cameras. Over the years I have also worked extensively with Leica equipment and more recently Fujifilm cameras.

Photojournalism News: What social media platforms do you use?
Ed Kashi:
 Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn, and I see myself as a publisher.

Photojournalism News: How do you prepare yourself before any assignment? What would you put in your camera bag for a typical task?
Ed Kashi:
I do my research of the issue so I can speak to it with authority and confidence, I learn about the place, culture, etc so I can dress, behave and interact in a sensitive and appropriate way, and in my camera bag is usually 1-2 cameras, a couple of lenses, a flash, and all the accessories like batteries, media cards, etc. I like to work light with gear and focus on the emotions, people and environment.

Photojournalism News: How would you best describe your style of work?  What are you trying to say with your photography?
Ed Kashi:
 I want to capture “candid intimacy” to make people feel they are privy to compelling moments without the imprint of my presence. Visually my work is layered and complex to help tell visual stories.

Photojournalism News: How many photos do you take for one story?
Ed Kashi: 
There is no formula. I can make 3000 images in a day or in a week. It all depends on the length of the story, type of story it is and how easily I can work in a given place or situation. Some places allow me to work freely and some are very difficult due to security or cultural issues.

Photojournalism News: What is the last trip you made?
Ed Kashi:
 I last went to various locations around the United States to work on a documentary film about teen mental health.

Photojournalism News: What projects will you be working on next?
Ed Kashi:
 I have a new book coming out that is a kind of love letter to photography based on a particular style and approach I’ve developed over the past 40+ years, I am working on a Zine about my California Years, I will be doing a NYT assignment about chemical pollution in the United States, I am teaching workshops in Mexico, Paris and the United States, I’ll be continuing to film on an ongoing project about environmental justice and my studio is working on developing legacy edits of my work to present to museums and galleries. I also have lectures and film screenings coming up around our new film, Sheila and Joe, including in person events in New York City. So my practice at this stage in my career is expansive, complicated and I have my hands in a number of different areas besides just shooting photographs and filming.

Photojournalism News: Which of your photographs would you describe as your favourite? What makes them so special to you?
Ed Kashi:
 I don’t think in this way, so it’s hard to answer questions like this. I have images from certain bodies of work that are important to me and I know have had impact, and there are random images made over the decades that speak to me. The images that are most impactful are the ones I care most about, including images from my projects on Aging in America, the Struggle of the Kurds, the impact of oil in the Niger Delta, Nigeria, and my current project on Chronic Kidney Disease of non-traditional causes. What they all have in common is intimacy, visual strength, a powerful moment and a deeper context that they reside in.

Photojournalism News: What message do you want your photos to convey?
Ed Kashi:
 I don’t have one message, but the overall goal is to capture moments that reflect the human condition and remind us of our shared humanity, in all its beauty marks and worts.

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Photojournalism News: What does a photo need to be a great in your eyes?
Ed Kashi:
 A great photo can be made up of many qualities, but the most important one for me is that it has authenticity and impact.

Photojournalism News: In the digital age people consume billions of photos every single day, under the circumstances what could make a photo memorable?
Ed Kashi:
 Beauty, a magical moment, amazing light, strong composition, and a universal quality. Memorable images are imperfect, leaving you to question, wonder, stop, meditate.

Photojournalism News: What motivates you to continue taking pictures and what do you do to keep motivated?
Ed Kashi: 
The desire to create, engage with the world, learn about issues I am genuinely interested in and try to make a positive impact on the world.

Photojournalism News: What was the biggest professional risk you have taken and what was the outcome?
Ed Kashi: 
Probably going to Iraq 5 times between 2003-2005 with no financial backing or commissions. I made work that was published globally, I learned a bit more about the country my parents were born in and grew up in, and I came to understand my physical and mental limits as a human being.

Photojournalism News: What would be your dream assignment?
Ed Kashi: 
To continue on my personal quest to learn more about the origins of my name, Kashi, which emanates from Varanasi, India, is found in Kashan, Iran and Kashgar, China. It’s more of a personal quest, not to change the world, and to allow me the chance to indulge in some history and culture.

Photojournalism News: What are the essential skills/ qualities a photojournalist should have?
Ed Kashi: 
Empathy, intense curiosity, a questioning mind, a big heart, a strong constitution, ethical and moral fortitude and a belief that the world can be a better place if we honestly illuminate aspects of it.

Photojournalism News: What do you think about the digital manipulation of images?
Ed Kashi: 
For photojournalism and reality based documentary work it’s unacceptable, but for the rest of photography is part of the toolkit of creativity, personal expression and craftsmanship.

Photojournalism News: What does it mean to be an ethical photojournalist?
Ed Kashi: 
To understand what you’re observing, capture reality as honestly as possible and make sure you contextualize your images in the must truthful, factual way possible.

Photojournalism News: How do you see the role of photojournalism evolving in the world? Do you think photojournalism is losing its importance? 
Ed Kashi: 
Photojournalism has lost much of it’s ability to change the world in a single image, but it continues to have relevance and power to teach, influence and change minds.

Photojournalism News: Do you have any advice for aspiring photojournalists?
Ed Kashi: 
See above the answer to What are the essential skills, etc. Additionally you must be prepared for rejection and being ignored, so you must be strong and believe in yourself.

https://www.photojournalismnews.com/ed-kashi


AboutFace | US Veteran Laura Wright


Laura Wright
US Veteran | 1984-1997

Laura Wright, who served in the army from 1984-1997, was assaulted by a group of men one day near their base. Her extremely traumatic experience and the lack of adequate response by the army kept her from reaching out to anyone for help for a long time. She was expected to come back to work in four days as if nothing had happened.

After she left the army, she struggled with drug use and repressed pain. She was unable to tell her first husband about her trauma, and it pulled them apart. When her drug use increased, she eventually became homeless and spent time in prison, while her son was with her parents.

When she found the VA’s 30-day program, she began working one-on-one with a Cognitive Behavioral Therapist, which she describes as “life changing,” finally providing her space and tools to understand her experience and release her deeply repressed pain.

She is married again to a man she calls her best friend, and has completely transformed her self image. “I love myself. I love my life.”

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AboutFace features videos of Veterans, family members, and clinicians sharing their experiences with PTSD and PTSD treatment. AboutFace provides more information about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, finding support and treatment, and resources for family members.


AboutFace | US Veteran Eddie Statsmann


Eddie Statsmann
US Veteran | 1987-1990

Eddie Statsmann comes from a long line of United States army veterans. He was determined to be a part of something, as he struggled to make friends when he was a young kid in the foster system.

One night, Eddie was assaulted at gun point. He felt that the army did nothing for him after this traumatic event. Eddie was suicidal, and began using drugs after leaving the army. He got married and had kids, but a wave of unruly behavior eventually almost cost him life in prison, and he did temporarily lose custody of his children.

Lost and alone, he eventually went to Los Angeles, where he sought help at the Veterans Administration. There, he was diagnosed with PTSD in 2009. His therapeutic experience brought relief having someone to talk to. A brave and resilient survivor, he works every day at being a good husband to his wife and father to his kids.

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AboutFace features videos of Veterans, family members, and clinicians sharing their experiences with PTSD and PTSD treatment. AboutFace provides more information about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, finding support and treatment, and resources for family members.


AboutFace | US Veteran Steve Connor


Steve Connor
US Veteran | 1977-1979

Steve Connor, who currently lives in western Massachusetts, USA, shares his experience with sexual assault while he served in the US Navy.

The latest Veteran statistic is that 1 in 100 men report they’ve been a victim of MST (Military Sexual Assault).

Steve discovered the Veterans Affairs all-male therapeutic group and felt the pull to face his fears. Through this, he met other men he wouldn’t have expected were vulnerable to MST, and it helped him deal with his shame and embarrassment after a period of drinking, drug use, and sexual promiscuity. Counseling helped him understand it wasn’t his fault, that he was a victim.

In Massachusetts, every city has a veterans service officer to meet the needs of veterans and their dependents. Steve has been fulfilling this role for almost 17 years, and shares how rewarding it is to work with and help other survivors.



AboutFace features videos of Veterans, family members, and clinicians sharing their experiences with PTSD and PTSD treatment. AboutFace provides more information about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, finding support and treatment, and resources for family members.


A dear friend's visit to Varanasi/Kashi, in mourning

I first met ShastriX on a palm-tree-lined street in an upscale housing development in Bangalore, India in 2007 while on assignment for National Geographic magazine. I was working on a long story about the Golden Quadrilateral Highway, India’s largest infrastructure project at that time.


I was trying to capture the new wealth of this Southern-California-styled development, with million dollar homes in a gated community. One day I was walking through the quiet streets when I came upon a couple of kids playing soccer and I started to photograph them. ShastriX, who was photographing his then teenage daughter, approached me with curiosity about my photography. As we continued talking about photography, he was excited about my work with Nat Geo, and more importantly, gave me permission to continue.


Over the last 14 years ShastriX and I have remained in touch, and he recently shared this very intimate diary of his recent visit to Varanasi, India, a holy city where many Hindus make pilgrimage to have remains burned on the banks of the sacred Ganges River at the cremation ghat on the river’s edge. He journeyed here, where it is believed that if one is cremated in Varanasi, the reincarnation cycle eventually reaches Nirvana, to say goodbyes to his mother who had recently passed away. I was so moved by what he wrote, that I asked my generous and lovely friend for his permission to share it here.


His blog posts can be found here.

Thank you ShastriX and peace to you and your family.


I journeyed to Varanasi, India in 2019 and produced a body of work called Arc of a Name, exploring the timeless quixotic mix of ancient and modern cultures, and the longevity and transformation of names.


CONFINEMENT, Prix Pictet interactive online group exhibition

Prix Pictet is proud to launch an interactive exhibition of Confinement.

In their own compelling images and words, 43 of the more than 90 past shortlisted Prix Pictet photographers give us their personal response to the Covid-19 crisis.

The project began with a series of inspiring commissions in partnership with The Guardian, before growing into a book, Confinement, published by teNeues earlier this year. This digital exhibition invites a closer look into each artist's response, with new unseen images, as they move beyond emerging clichés and point to a way forward.

In the next few weeks, Fiona Shields, The Guardian’s Head of Photography, will host the first guided tour of the exhibition online. Follow us on social media to keep updated about this event. 


The purpose of the Prix Pictet, to quote Gro Harlem Brundtland at its launch in 2008, is ‘to ensure that matters of sustainability remain at the forefront of global debate, where they need to belong’. In the twelve years since, the two greatest threats to life on the planet – excess resource depletion and damaging climate change – have only intensified. The Prix Pictet has documented the growing sustainability crisis in images raw and beautiful from across the world.

In doing so it has become one of a handful of leading global prizes for any type or genre of photography. The smartphone revolution has made photography a medium of communication used and understood by all. It’s a medium that transcends language in its power to communicate, which magnifies the potential of the Prix Pictet to influence government, business and society throughout the world.

This Confinement project started life as a book, published in a year that will forever be imprinted in our memories as the year of the Covid-19 pandemic; of lockdown, of confinement – changing the way we work and live in what Peter Frankopan describes in his accompanying essay as ‘the largest social science experiment in history’. Some changes will be permanent, others will fade with time. Perhaps, in the brief interlude of clean city air and clear skies, we have learnt something about our impact on our planet. Nor should we forget that the year has also amplified economic inequalities within societies and between nations, with lasting effects.

Here, in their own compelling images and words, 43 of the more than 90 past shortlisted Prix Pictet photographers give us their personal response to the Covid-19 crisis.



Volunteers with the Nutley Volunteer Emergency and Rescue Squad, responding to a 92-year-old Indian man who suffers from diabetes and had lost consciousness, in Nutley, New Jersey on 15 April 2020. This force, established in 1954, is a mix of 20 emp…

Volunteers with the Nutley Volunteer Emergency and Rescue Squad, responding to a 92-year-old Indian man who suffers from diabetes and had lost consciousness, in Nutley, New Jersey on 15 April 2020. This force, established in 1954, is a mix of 20 employees and 55 volunteers, responding to every medical call, including Covid-19 emergencies. Since the start of the pandemic they approach every call as Covid-related. Many town residents have been donating protective equipment, covering the squad for now. ‘There is a fear. A fear of bringing this back home to our friends and family. A fear of getting exposed and sick. But we knew that we would have to be ready for anything when we signed up for this. This is a game changer for all of us, whether you’re getting paid or volunteering, but we’re still in it and we’re going to win. It’s the passion and personal belief of helping others that keeps us going. It’s a huge sacrifice that we make so we can serve others in this unsettling and unprecedented time.’ Jonathan Arredondo, President of the Volunteer Association.

An emotional moment during the protests in New York City over police violence and the murder of George Floyd at the hands of the Minneapolis police last week. Thousands came out to march and fight for justice and the vast majority of protesters were…

An emotional moment during the protests in New York City over police violence and the murder of George Floyd at the hands of the Minneapolis police last week. Thousands came out to march and fight for justice and the vast majority of protesters were peaceful and expressing their rights to free speech and assembly.


Living With Fire: What California Can Learn From Native Burns [excerpt]


Living With Fire: What California
Can Learn From Native Burns

Officials are beginning to reimagine fire and land management, drawing upon
Native American tradition and perspectives that were long outlawed.

Written by Megan Botel
03/10/2021

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/california-wildfires-native-burns_n_604692eec5b69197db28fdd4


The tribe’s spiritual leader, Keith Turner, begins burn day with a ceremony, blessing each member of the group with cleansing white sage.

The tribe’s spiritual leader, Keith Turner, begins burn day with a ceremony, blessing each member of the group with cleansing white sage.

This story is co-published with The GroundTruth Project.

MARIPOSA, Calif. ― Rain falls on the 300-year-old oaks on a cold midwinter morning as a group of nearly 60 gathers here on what was once southern Sierra Miwok land.

Some have returned year after year. Others are here for the first time, eager to learn what California’s oldest residents have long known about land management after the most destructive fire season in the state’s recorded history. 

“We are here to make an offering to the land,” said Ron Goode, the North Fork Mono’s tribal chairman, who organized the event. “Mother Earth supports us. By putting fire on the ground, we support her.” 

Rakes, clippers, shovels and chainsaws in hand, the group heads out to assemble the dead vegetation into burn piles. Using drip torches ― red tin canisters with mixtures of diesel and gasoline ― they delicately light the piles on fire in slow, deliberate motions, painting the land in strokes of orange and red. 

It is the year’s first cultural burn for the North Fork Mono. For more than 10,000 years, tribes used small, controlled fires to open pasture lands and clear out underbrush, promoting new plant growth and reducing the risk of large, dangerous fires.

But when Western settlers took over Native American lands in the 18th and 19th centuries, they began barring many traditional practices, including cultural burning. In 1850, the U.S. government passed the Act for the Government and Protection of Indians, which prohibited intentional burning. After over a century of this strategy left the nation’s forests choked with dry underbrush, California’s fire officials are now beginning to reimagine fire and land management, drawing upon Native American tradition and perspective. 

North Fork Mono tribal members are teaching the group of university students, ecologists, journalists and, notably, officials from the U.S. Forest Service and the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection (Cal Fire) how it might help curb the state’s fire crisis by clearing out highly flammable vegetation before the dry, hot summer. 

Officials from Cal Fire and the Forest Service were present at the burn, marking a shift in the way the state’s land managers are imagining fire “fighting.”

Officials from Cal Fire and the Forest Service were present at the burn, marking a shift in the way the state’s land managers are imagining fire “fighting.”

Goode, a state-certified “burn boss,” runs several burns a year to rehabilitate meadows across California. This 369-acre property became an unofficial educational site when he opened it up to university students nearly two decades ago, and for the past six years he’s invited the greater public. Interest surged within the past three years, he said, attracting hundreds of participants at each burn, including a growing number of officials from Cal Fire and the Forest Service. (Due to the pandemic, those numbers are currently limited.)

“People are interested in what’s happening,” Goode said. “But it takes disasters for people to start waking up.”

In 2020, wildfires ravaged 4.2 million acres of California, including Big Basin in Santa Cruz, the oldest and one of the most beloved state parks in California. Over the past decade, the state known for its lush forests and rich natural resources has seen hundreds of lives lost and tens of thousands of structures destroyed, entering, as fire historian Stephen Pyne put it, the “fire equivalent of an ice age.” 

The disaster has awakened California’s land managers, who, after a century of promoting fire suppression and rejecting Native American controlled burn techniques, are now trying to figure out what to do with the abundance of dried shrub and brush that, along with a warming climate, fueled the current fire emergency.   

On this February morning, Goode’s 11-year-old nephew, Harlon, uses a chainsaw for the first time to take down a dying white oak. He watched it fall in awe. 

“One day, I’m going to take over for my uncle and be the burn boss,” Harlon said. 

The event took months of meticulous planning, including permits, funding and accommodating the pandemic restrictions. But they could not plan for the weather, and the forecast was for near-constant rain. 

“Whether we get much burning done or not, I am fulfilled,” said Goode, gesturing toward the group huddled under tents to keep dry. “Look at all of you.” 

So is Jonathan Long, a research ecologist for the U.S. Forest Service who attended the burn. 

“There’s some really bad history of labeling Native people as ignorant or superstitious, of actively arresting people and putting them in jail if they were trying to carry out traditional practices like cultural burning,” Long said. “Most people would now say: ‘Yes, if we kept burning in the frequency, in the ways Native Americans burned, we wouldn’t have the fires we are having now.’” 

Once the rain stops, a rainbow forms over the property in Mariposa, California, as volunteers finish up the first day of work.

Once the rain stops, a rainbow forms over the property in Mariposa, California, as volunteers finish up the first day of work.


covidescence | curated by Philip Blenkinsop

VII Insider

Feb. 12, 2021


Curated by Philip Blenkinsop

Seventeen pairs of eyes and their offerings; images born between Januarys, during a period of exceptional global uncertainty. The dialogue nurtured by their enforced cohabitation here speaks to me of our fears and our vulnerabilities, whether real or imagined; it begs of us to question our own apathy, our unreadiness or unwillingness to stand up and challenge a poisonous status quo; it alludes to the fragility of those hopes and dreams we harbour for our children.

PB
Arles Feb 15 2021


Photography Daily - Photographic Life Lessons From A Master

#187 PHOTOGRAPHIC LIFE LESSONS FROM A MASTER

Photography Daily
Feb. 8, 2021
Ed Kashi | Part 2

https://www.photographydaily.show/episodes/ed-kashi-lessons-from-a-master


Ed Kashi, VII Photo Agency photographer talks of his incurable curiosity when it comes to photographing people. We discuss candid photography, what it is and the rules of engagement. We talk about the current social distrust of the media, photographers and photography, the importance of sound as a way to enhance your photo stories and how he has hope, real hope for the future of photojournalism.

FURTHER REFERENCE: VII Photo and Don McCullin’s marine photograph.

Today something a little different, a short feature at the end of the show helped along by those who support the show via our Patreon link in the menu above. I asked after one of our Tuesday and Thursday Patreon MORE editions, for thoughts about what candid really means since I knew Ed would be discussing a project that broke some of those ‘camera unaware’ candid rules. It’s a great community that we have in Patreon and I got some considered thoughts, inspirational too from members who wanted to help with this question. On that note, Patron of the Day is Michael Beecham, his Instagram is @michaelbeecham_photo. I think by now you’ve worked out my own enthusiasm for simplicity and that’s what I particularly like about Michael’s work. His lockdown project 'The Sanity Within the Stasis' was originally a project he started to keep himself occupied whilst at home last March. It quickly grew into something he says; “I feel reflected the emotional and mental health of the country.” Tab through the grid and his work and you’ll find the black and white studies of flowers made, or shot through a home made scrim of sorts; cling film. These are stunning.  

Today's show is supported by also by MPB.com, the number one platform for buying, selling and trading used camera gear in the U.K. the U.S. and Europe. There is a simple reason I have been using MPB.com myself for buying, selling and trading quality used camera gear. I buy used from MPB because I know there is quality checked kit that will work as well as the products I buy new from a shelf - and I know that this is a sustainable way to buy, plus I love that I've driving the circular economy too. I've used them myself and I've recommended their service to friends too, which is testament to my trust in how their service works.


On An Ordinary Day, curated by VII's Daniel Schwartz

On January 30, 2020, the World Health Organization declared the COVID-19 outbreak a global health emergency. One year later, VII Photo Agency photographers set out to document the stories of ordinary people throughout the world.


The Visual Artist Photographed by Nichole SobeckiCyrus Kabiru, a visual artist known for his sculptural eyewear, has found a way to respond to the uncertainty and loss brought on by COVID-19 through his creative work, photographed here in his studio…

The Visual Artist
Photographed by Nichole Sobecki

Cyrus Kabiru, a visual artist known for his sculptural eyewear, has found a way to respond to the uncertainty and loss brought on by COVID-19 through his creative work, photographed here in his studio in Thika, Kenya, on June 12, 2020. This pandemic series explores questions around social distancing, African responses to the novel coronavirus, and figurative interpretations of the virus itself.

Cyrus is also working with several other artists to make and distribute masks for free to those who need them, focusing on the thousands of Kenyans forcibly displaced from Sewage by the government — the same neighborhood where he grew up. Kenyan authorities forcibly evicted more than 7,000 people from the neighborhood known as Sewage, for an adjacent treatment plant this past April, defying a court order and leaving many stranded and homeless in the midst of the pandemic.

The Baker Photographed by Eric BouvetSylla Sadia, a 52-year-old baker, is photographed in Paris on January 26, 2021.“Bread is life. It was like during wartimes — so many people came to buy bread. All day there was a long line.“I had to work a lot to…

The Baker
Photographed by Eric Bouvet

Sylla Sadia, a 52-year-old baker, is photographed in Paris on January 26, 2021.

“Bread is life. It was like during wartimes — so many people came to buy bread. All day there was a long line.

“I had to work a lot to learn [the trade]. I had respect when I was a kid in Guinea, but here in France I learn the work — this is the country of workers.

“I am the owner of the bakery, and my son works with me. I have six employees. The lockdown is strange. It is a dark period without visibility. I am anxious.

“As an African, I am privileged to be the owner of a bakery, but France gave me everything. For sure I have worked hard, I take care of people, I respect people, so… here I am with the culture and the education, we will survive.”

The Single Mother Photographed by Mary GelmanPolina is a solo mother from Saint-Petersburg, photographed on July 25, 2020. “Quarantine didn’t change my life, because it began in April 2019, when my daughter was born. I have been in isolation for muc…

The Single Mother
Photographed by Mary Gelman

Polina is a solo mother from Saint-Petersburg, photographed on July 25, 2020. “Quarantine didn’t change my life, because it began in April 2019, when my daughter was born. I have been in isolation for much longer, and not just me, but many mothers on maternity leave. There was anxiety in the background of general news. I was afraid of the unknown, of the future. But I found a job, and those years were not so bad.”

The Bartender and Concert Promoter Photographed by Ashley GilbertsonMatthew Paneth, 29, a bartender and concert promoter, at The Emma Peel Room, a bar on the Lower East Side, in New York City, on January 24, 2021.“The last year has been entertaining…

The Bartender and Concert Promoter
Photographed by Ashley Gilbertson

Matthew Paneth, 29, a bartender and concert promoter, at The Emma Peel Room, a bar on the Lower East Side, in New York City, on January 24, 2021.

“The last year has been entertaining and terrible,” Mr. Paneth says. “Everything’s been changing by the day, and we’re all going through it. There are new rules, sometimes weekly, that devolve — making less and less sense as we move through this. And we’re scared for our jobs — that we might not be following arbitrary rules closely enough while trying too hard to make everyone —the State and the customers — happy. And then, a hurricane or a snowplough will come through and just erase all the hard work.”

“Here, at the bar, we’ve always been here in the community and for the community. And by being here, I’m not touching 50 people’s lives every day — maybe it’s six, and for now that’s enough. My regulars keep my job afloat, but they also keep my life afloat. Since the pandemic, it’s become clear there’s no way to make it as someone who doesn’t care, who just turns up and does their job. You’re not going to survive if you’re not caring about your community — I mean, what else is there?”

The Sex Worker Photographed by Ilvy NjiokiktjienSex worker Foxxy Angel, 39, is photographed at the Prostitution Information Centre in Amsterdam, The Netherlands, on June 30, 2020.“The pandemic has been very difficult for us as sex workers. Ever sinc…

The Sex Worker
Photographed by Ilvy Njiokiktjien

Sex worker Foxxy Angel, 39, is photographed at the Prostitution Information Centre in Amsterdam, The Netherlands, on June 30, 2020.

“The pandemic has been very difficult for us as sex workers. Ever since the pandemic started, we have been struggling. At the start of the pandemic, we closed down for 3.5 months. Luckily, we were finally able to open up again later in the year. But that only lasted a few weeks, and in December we closed down again, until now. It has been hectic for all of us. And many of the sex workers do not get help from the government. They are struggling in many different ways.

“I do get government support, luckily, as I am self-employed, and self-employed sex workers do get support most of the time.

“I get a lot of messages on my phone from clients. They are at home, sometimes very frustrated. Many of them rely on the services sex workers provide. I feel our job is not seen as important, but it definitely does serve a purpose in society.

“The clients that message me are sitting at home, all day with their wives. And I know for a fact that that is not always working out properly.”

The Mental Health Worker Photographed by Ed KashiAlexandra Marie Airey, 27, is a mental health worker who is simultaneously getting her master’s degree from Rutgers University while working full time at Jersey City Medical Center in Jersey City, New…

The Mental Health Worker
Photographed by Ed Kashi

Alexandra Marie Airey, 27, is a mental health worker who is simultaneously getting her master’s degree from Rutgers University while working full time at Jersey City Medical Center in Jersey City, New Jersey, photographed in Montclair, New Jersey, before starting her shift on January 25, 2021.

The Refugee Photographed by Nichole SobeckiPortrait of Raymond Brian, a non-binary Ugandan refugee who goes by the name of “Mother Nature,” outside the safe house he helped found in a Nairobi suburb, on June 19, 2020.Mother Nature had been approved …

The Refugee
Photographed by Nichole Sobecki

Portrait of Raymond Brian, a non-binary Ugandan refugee who goes by the name of “Mother Nature,” outside the safe house he helped found in a Nairobi suburb, on June 19, 2020.

Mother Nature had been approved to relocate to the United States before the coronavirus crisis hit and all resettlement was put on indefinite hold by the IOM. For gay and transgender Ugandan refugees in Kenya, such delays comes with immediate risks. “The delay was really traumatizing,” he explained. “I went numb, then blamed myself, before accepting that it was out of my control. But homophobia has been on the rise since the pandemic began — people are looking for someone to blame and we’re a popular target. So it’s stressful.” A friend of Mother Nature’s committed suicide last month.

Sexual minorities are persecuted in Uganda, where lawmakers have made serious attempts to institute the death penalty for gay sex. In Kenya, those acts are also illegal and theoretically punishable by up to 14 years in jail. More commonly, the law is used by the police as a pretext to extort and harass members of the LGBT community.

Nearly 500 migrants in Kenya (and more than 3,000 across Africa, and 10,000 worldwide),­ the vast majority of whom are refugees,­ have had their approved resettlement to third countries put on indefinite hold by the coronavirus. Some include LGBTQ, who face immediate risks due to the delay, struggle to find work, and face harassment by authorities. Queerness remains illegal in Kenya.

The Father Photographed by Seamus MurphyFather Hugh MacKenzie, Westminster Cathedral, Victoria, London, January 22, 2021.Catholic chaplain at Westminster Cathedral and St. John and St. Elizabeth Hospital. He was ordained at Westminster Cathedral 25 …

The Father
Photographed by Seamus Murphy

Father Hugh MacKenzie, Westminster Cathedral, Victoria, London, January 22, 2021.

Catholic chaplain at Westminster Cathedral and St. John and St. Elizabeth Hospital. He was ordained at Westminster Cathedral 25 years ago.

“COVID-19 has more directly brought suffering into the world in people’s lives. In the Bible, pandemics, and pestilences, are sometimes interpreted as punishments or chastisement. So we’re within that tradition, but for the modern age, we’re trying to understand what that means. Most bad things are related to humans mucking up the environment, not just physically but also particularly spiritually. And so we’ve tried to explore that both in sermons and in one-to-one conversations. We don’t want to give the idea of a sort of arbitrarily angry God, that’s not the God we believe in, in the Catholic tradition.

“In the first lockdown, I was just walking across a zebra crossing and one person walking in the other direction said to me, ‘What’s all this about father?’ I’d never met the person before so it was all slightly tongue in cheek, and I said it was about you changing and saying sorry for things. And then he said, ‘I don’t have anything to say sorry for.’ So as the conversation went on, he recommended something to me to look at on the internet. So I said, okay, I’ll do that as long as you type into Google ‘examination of conscience.'”

The Veteran Photographed by Anush BabajanyanLevon Sahakyan,18, at the Rehabilitation Center Of the Armenian Red Cross Society, in Yerevan, Armenia, on January 27, 2021. Levon was injured fighting the Nagorno-Karabakh war in 2020.“During the days of …

The Veteran
Photographed by Anush Babajanyan

Levon Sahakyan,18, at the Rehabilitation Center Of the Armenian Red Cross Society, in Yerevan, Armenia, on January 27, 2021. Levon was injured fighting the Nagorno-Karabakh war in 2020.

“During the days of the war, nothing happened [in connection to COVID-19]. Everything related to the war was the priority, and whatever related to the coronavirus was not considered, and it probably should not have been, during the time. That [COVID-19] we could overcome, but this was overall difficult.”

The Communications Adviser Photographed by Linda Bournane-EngelberthMarianne Melgård, 42, Oslo, Norway, January 15, 2021, a divorced person living alone.“I work as a communication adviser, and during lockdown in Norway all my work is managed through…

The Communications Adviser
Photographed by Linda Bournane-Engelberth

Marianne Melgård, 42, Oslo, Norway, January 15, 2021, a divorced person living alone.

“I work as a communication adviser, and during lockdown in Norway all my work is managed through the home office. It is hard to live alone and work from home during the lockdown. The feeling of isolation is even harder on people that live alone, when all your social and work life is moved to the screen.”

The Locksmith Photographed by Valentina SinisMarco, a 33-year-old Italian locksmith and handyman, is photographed on January 16, 2021, in London. He is self-employed and works for a company. He arrived in London four years ago with his partner and h…

The Locksmith
Photographed by Valentina Sinis

Marco, a 33-year-old Italian locksmith and handyman, is photographed on January 16, 2021, in London. He is self-employed and works for a company. He arrived in London four years ago with his partner and has been doing this job ever since. His work is considered essential.

During the first lockdown in the UK, his work decreased dramatically, but he was always on standby. When the second wave of COVID-19 hit the UK, he returned to work almost every day, even though the danger of infection had increased dramatically.

Marco travels independently in his van, “I consider myself lucky in this respect, as I do not risk being infected by taking public transport.”

However, Marco says he is not completely out of the woods, as he has almost daily contact with customers. Frequently, he has to repair houses where the inhabitants do not respect the rules of social distancing or do not wear masks. Marco says, “A few times I had to go to houses where someone was COVID-positive. As a rule, they have to warn us beforehand so that we can better organize our safety procedures. I don’t feel comfortable at all when this happens!”

When he gets home, Marco immediately changes his clothes and takes a shower. He does not want to infect himself and his partner or the other inhabitants of his shared house.

Despite all these difficulties, he sees the pandemic era as a “historic time that not everyone has the chance to experience and tell its stories when he gets old.”

The Retired Security Employee Photographed by Leonardo CarratoMarçal, 72 years old, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, January 21, 2021.“I’ve been working in street security for about six years. I am already retired, but since the income is not enough even tho…

The Retired Security Employee
Photographed by Leonardo Carrato

Marçal, 72 years old, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, January 21, 2021.

“I’ve been working in street security for about six years. I am already retired, but since the income is not enough even though I have a simple life, I need to keep working. With the pandemic, I was mainly afraid of my commute to work. I come by public transport from where I live and as there was a reduction in the number of buses, they got even more crowded. Even taking all precautions, it is impossible to feel completely safe. 

“The residents of this street, who are the contractors, did not allow a break or a rotation during the long hours of the shift so that we could stay longer at home. It is hard to believe that they think more about their own safety than about our health, but I am used to it. Many of them don’t even greet us on a daily basis. We have to be on alert day and night, but to them, we seem invisible. I’ve worked my whole life, since I was a boy, and it taught me to move on because I need the money to survive.”

The Real Estate Agent Photographed by Seamus MurphyMarisa Ribeiro, Vauxhall, London, January 19, 2021.Marisa is a real estate agent who has recently assumed ownership and the running of the family fish and vegetable shop.“Covid’s been good for busin…

The Real Estate Agent
Photographed by Seamus Murphy

Marisa Ribeiro, Vauxhall, London, January 19, 2021.

Marisa is a real estate agent who has recently assumed ownership and the running of the family fish and vegetable shop.

“Covid’s been good for business, we’ve been really busy. We’ve stayed open the whole time. We closed to do some work to allow for extra space because it was quite tight for people to be able to go in and out without bumping into each other. 

“The Portuguese community are putting their good fortune so far to their consumption of alcohol. If alcohol gel works in your hands, then it’s working on the insides, that’s their theory! Until obviously, and hopefully not, something tragic happens close to them, then they’ll take it a bit more seriously. 

“My granddad in Madeira passed away in December, and that was really hard. Because obviously being in Madeira, you need to isolate for five days. So we had to put his body in the freezer to be able for everyone to make the funeral. So I shipped off my parents to the island for a few days and I stayed here because it was just before Christmas. We had loads of orders. 

“The reaction within the Portuguese community to the vaccine is a bit of a mixture. Men in general rarely go to the GP, but we know of a few people from the community that have successfully received the first dosage, some even the second.

“As a community, I believe they will get vaccinated when invited, especially if airlines and overseas governments decide to put travel restrictions on those not vaccinated. The Portuguese love and miss going home.”

The Photographer Photographed by Christopher MorrisOn January 6, 2021, my day began at 9 a.m. in Washington, D.C., near the White House after just driving 15 hours from my home in Florida — a drive I took without any commitment of an assignment. You…

The Photographer
Photographed by Christopher Morris

On January 6, 2021, my day began at 9 a.m. in Washington, D.C., near the White House after just driving 15 hours from my home in Florida — a drive I took without any commitment of an assignment. You could feel the potential for something bad to happen in the nation’s capital that day.

I was not one minute out of my vehicle when I encountered a group of around five or six Trump supporters wrapped and dressed in the American flag. From a distance of around five meters, I lifted my camera to take my first picture of the day. This small group of supposed patriotic Americans started taunting me for having my face wrapped in a mask and scarf. As I looked around and scanned the crowd with my eyes, it became quite apparent to me that no one was wearing a mask. Quite literally thousands and thousands of people were crammed waiting for their dear leader who called them to Washington to protest what he called an “illegal election” or a “stolen election.”

This was a day that I would have to fight for my life on the east side of the Capitol Building. Five times in 45 minutes that afternoon I would have to fight off angry Americans who looked at me with extreme hatred. Now, not only was I fighting to avoid the invisible COVID-19 that surely was in the air of a mad, screaming lunatic crowd of non-science believers, but Americans were literally going insane right before my eyes. Americans who either accused me of being an Antifa agitator or better yet, when I would scream back, “I’m not Antifa, I’m press,” while showing my press card, I was now “the enemy of the people.” “Ohhh, we hang enemies of the people.”

This was my day in America that January 6.

The Undertakers Photographed by Ziyah GaficSarajevo, April 2020.I went to the funeral of one of the very first victims of COVID-19 in my town. He was also a victim of the by now infamous “patient path.” It took months for the already crippled Bosnia…

The Undertakers
Photographed by Ziyah Gafic

Sarajevo, April 2020.

I went to the funeral of one of the very first victims of COVID-19 in my town. He was also a victim of the by now infamous “patient path.” It took months for the already crippled Bosnian healthcare system to figure out how to treat patients with this new, unpredictable and fearsome illness. The hospitals were reluctant to receive the patients with the convenient but nonsensical excuse to not let the virus in hospitals.

Sarajevo’s main cemetery is beautiful, well kept and located in the city (we like to keep our dead close to us). The Muslim section is all white, with tombstones made of virgin white marble. The Catholic section is filled with black, impeccably shiny marble headstones; the Christian Orthodox with its elaborate, monumental gravestones with chiseled portraits of the deceased; the Jewish with the Star of David engraved above the names of the dead. My grandparents are buried there, friends too. The person I was named after lies there too — my father’s best friend, lost in the Bosnian mountains years before I was born. During the war, the cemetery was in proximity of the frontline. I remember when I first went there to see what happened to graves of loved ones. I saw tombstones pierced with shells, shattered marble was everywhere, so were unexploded shells.

April is the cruelest month, said T.S Eliot. April always comes big to Sarajevo, often too hot to handle. Sarajevo was liberated from the German occupation on April 6th, the siege of Sarajevo in 1992 began on April 5th.

April 2020 was hot, too. By chance, I went to the funeral of one of the very first casualties of the pandemic. Muslim funerals are usually crowded, that is the last chance to forgive anything for which the deceased might have wronged you. The final words at Muslim funerals in Bosnia are: “Are we going to forgive the deceased?” This funeral was nothing like this. Lockdown procedures were already in place, only the closest family came. Muslims are not buried in coffins usually, but in “tabut,” wrapped in white and covered in green cotton sheets. This coffin was metal, sealed as to not let out this novel death creep out. The Imam said the prayer from a distance. Usually family members put the coffin in the grave, but this time it was a team of undertakers, dressed in full hazmat suits, sweating and panting in the cruel April sun.

The Building Superintendent Photographed by Ron HavivBuilding superintendent George Valentin, 36, cleans his buildings with disinfectant to slow the spread of the virus on April 14, 2020, in NYC.Thinking back about that time, George says he “was thi…

The Building Superintendent
Photographed by Ron Haviv

Building superintendent George Valentin, 36, cleans his buildings with disinfectant to slow the spread of the virus on April 14, 2020, in NYC.

Thinking back about that time, George says he “was thinking about everything, about close friends and family dying.”

“I was really worried about everyone close to me. I was just going day by day. It was new. I was just scared. I wanted to keep everyone safe and help people as much as I can.”

The Jeans-Wear Maker Photographed by Eric BouvetJulien Tuffery, 34 years old, photographed in Florac, France, in April 2020. He runs a jeans manufacturing company that has been in operation since 1872 and was started by his great-grandfather.“The vi…

The Jeans-Wear Maker
Photographed by Eric Bouvet

Julien Tuffery, 34 years old, photographed in Florac, France, in April 2020. He runs a jeans manufacturing company that has been in operation since 1872 and was started by his great-grandfather.

“The virus was like an earthquake when it happened. The lives of my 20 employees changed overnight. But with common sense, we made 200 masks that we gave to the people. Then in the face of so much enthusiasm, with the local craftsmen, we made 80,000 masks for free to be distributed in our department of Lozère. It gave us even more energy despite this enormous work. We have always worked, and none of us got sick. We took care of each other. This virus has revealed our values. I am proud of my team who know how to do a good job to make our customers happy, with whom we have a direct relationship, and who want quality clothing from a local manufacturer.”


Photography Daily - The Sandwich Generation

#184 THE SANDWICH GENERATION BY ED KASHI

Photography Daily
Feb. 1, 2021

https://www.photographydaily.show/episodes/the-sandwich-generation-ed-kashi


A story of love, empathy and dignity today. VII Photo agency member Ed Kashi in the first of two parts, the initial being a most remarkable personal photo story called The Sandwich Generation where he recounts how fourteen years ago with his wife Julie and their children, the family moved their lives and businesses three thousand miles to care for Herbie, Julie’s 83 year old father. It became a touching two part film and photo essay about Herbie's last years of life.

First day of the month and patron of the day is Aleš Wasserburger. If you’re a patron supporter of the show, this is where I share your work to a larger audience and Aleš’s profile is a travel log from the Indonesian jungles to the wonderful streets of Spain and I spied one of my favourite French towns; the glorious fortified Carcassonne.

The patrons help keep this show as a new growing photographic community and I’m delighted again that this month we’re also supported by the camera professional people, MPB.com, the number one platform for buying, selling and trading used gear in the States and Europe. Over 250,000 creatives in Europe and the United States trust MPB for their kit needs.


"Ideas have never been more important than they are today" - Interview with photographer Ed Kashi

What The Photo

Interview on Jan. 14, 2021

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPMURdZRPsw&t=311s



David Griffin, Director of Photography at National Geographic, defined Ed Kashi as follows: "Ed Kashi is intelligent, brave and compassionate. He always understands the nuances of his subjects. He fearlessly goes where few would venture. And he sympathetically captures the soul of each situation. Ed is one of the best of a new breed of photojournalistic artists. " Photojournalist, filmmaker, speaker, educator, writer, we can easily attribute Ed the characteristic of creativity. His career takes several paths and not just photography, documenting social and political issues with extreme perceptive sensitivity.

Ed has on his list of merits, great prizes throughout his career, work recognized by major newspapers and magazines, in addition to several published books. In partnership with Julie Winokur, filmmaker, writer, and wife, he started Talking Eyes Media project, to produce short films, multimedia pieces, exhibitions and books on social issues.

Ed is also a member of Agência VII since 2010, where he is also the mentor of new talents in photography, and he says: "Ideas are more important today than ever." Watch this video to learn from this great photographer!


Georgia Has Become the Epicenter of America’s Political Landscape. See How an Atlanta Suburb Is Navigating the Country’s Divisiveness

POLITICS | 2020 ELECTION

BY ED KASHI , JULIE WINOKUR AND FRANCESCA TRIANNI
DECEMBER 23, 2020 2:04 PM EST

https://time.com/5923106/georgia-suburb-election-video/


Georgia Has Become the Epicenter of America’s Political Landscape. See How an Atlanta Suburb Is Navigating the Country’s Divisiveness - - - On Nov. 6, Georgia became the epicenter of America’s complicated political landscape, voting narrowly to elevate now President-elect Joe Biden and triggering two runoff races that will determine the balance of the Senate. Georgia now holds the key to whether Biden gets to ride in the fast lane with his agenda, or be stuck on the side of the road. The state’s fast rise to political relevance can be explained by two forces: increased voter turnout and changing demographics. Atlanta’s suburbs have become international hubs with growing numbers of immigrants and more and more engaged first-time voters. Students in Gwinnett County Public Schools speak over 100 different languages—their families were bound to show up at the polls sooner or later. In a new short film for TIME, we visited Norcross, the town in Gwinnett that became majority minority within the past decade. We watched an Asian American first-time Democratic politician canvassing, met a Black American teacher who voted for Trump, and visited Alejandro Villasana’s Christos Community Church, an evangelical Presbyterian congregation where services are conducted in English and Spanish. Demographic data in fast-changing places like Norcross—which can be measured, tallied and visualized—only tells a portion of the story. Behind the statistics are individual people with complex, and often conflicting, beliefs. This short film captures the nuance and thoughtfulness of people with divergent opinions who live in concert at the community level. They are navigating the divisiveness of the moment by finding their true political voices, even if that means breaking ranks with their “tribes.” During the 2020 presidential election, Latino voter turnout in Georgia increased by 72% and Asian American Pacific Islander (A.A.P.I.) turnout increased by 91%. Now, the Senate runoffs are already breaking records for early voting. This electoral cliffhanger promises to be dramatic up until the last ballot is cast. Whatever the outcome, the reality of voters lives on the ground is still a transformational work-in-progress. From his pulpit, Villasana urged his congregation to celebrate the outcome of the presidential election, no matter who wins, and to support democracy above all else. “Before being a Republican,” he said, “I am a believer in the system.” - - - Director/Producer | Julie Winokur Cinematography | Ed Kashi, Julie Winokur Editor | Francesca Trianni Field Producer | Rachel Dennis Researchers | Rachel Dennis, Brenda Bingham Colorist | Michael Curry Supervising Producer | Justine Simons Executive Producer | Jonathan Woods - - - https://time.com/5923106/georgia-suburb-election-video/

On Nov. 6, Georgia became the epicenter of America’s complicated political landscape, voting narrowly to elevate now President-elect Joe Biden and triggering two runoff races that will determine the balance of the Senate. Georgia now holds the key to whether Biden gets to ride in the fast lane with his agenda, or be stuck on the side of the road.

The state’s fast rise to political relevance can be explained by two forces: increased voter turnout and changing demographics. Atlanta’s suburbs have become international hubs with growing numbers of immigrants and more and more engaged first-time voters. Students in Gwinnett County Public Schools speak over 100 different languages—their families were bound to show up at the polls sooner or later.

In a new short film for TIME, we visited Norcross, the town in Gwinnett that became majority minority within the past decade. We watched an Asian American first-time Democratic politician canvassing, met a Black American teacher who voted for Trump, and visited Alejandro Villasana’s Christos Community Church, an evangelical Presbyterian congregation where services are conducted in English and Spanish.

Demographic data in fast-changing places like Norcross—which can be measured, tallied and visualized—only tells a portion of the story. Behind the statistics are individual people with complex, and often conflicting, beliefs. This short film captures the nuance and thoughtfulness of people with divergent opinions who live in concert at the community level. They are navigating the divisiveness of the moment by finding their true political voices, even if that means breaking ranks with their “tribes.”

During the 2020 presidential election, Latino voter turnout in Georgia increased by 72% and Asian American Pacific Islander (A.A.P.I.) turnout increased by 91%. Now, the Senate runoffs are already breaking records for early voting. This electoral cliffhanger promises to be dramatic up until the last ballot is cast. Whatever the outcome, the reality of voters lives on the ground is still a transformational work-in-progress.

From his pulpit, Villasana urged his congregation to celebrate the outcome of the presidential election, no matter who wins, and to support democracy above all else. “Before being a Republican,” he said, “I am a believer in the system.”


The mystery epidemic striking Nicaragua’s sugar cane workers – a photo essay

In Chichigalpa, kidney failure accounts for half of all male deaths over the last decade. Could industry changes be the key to saving lives?


Photographs by Ed Kashi/VII
by 
Kate Hodal
Fri 27 Nov 2020 02.00 EST

https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2020/nov/27/the-mystery-epidemic-striking-nicaraguas-sugar-cane-workers-a-photo-essay

For decades, a mystery epidemic has plagued young male labourers toiling in Nicaragua’s sugar cane plantations. The men start their work fit and strong, but after repeated harvests chopping cane under the tropical sun, they begin to suffer from nausea, back pain and exhaustion, get such severe muscle weakness that they can no longer earn a living, then end up dying of kidney failure, despite many being only in their 20s and 30s.

In Chichigalpa, the centre of Nicaragua’s sugar cane industry, the mysterious illness accounts for half of all male deaths over the last decade. Just outside this “town of city and rum”, as it is known, one rural community has earned itself the moniker “La Isla de Viudas” – the Island of Widows.

Patients in the dialysis clinic at Hospital España. Dr Nelson Garcia, bottom right, has 6,000 CKD patients, 60% of whom have CKDnT

Patients in the dialysis clinic at Hospital España. Dr Nelson Garcia, bottom right, has 6,000 CKD patients, 60% of whom have CKDnT

Award-winning American photographer Ed Kashi first visited Chichigalpa in 2013 on assignment to document the plight of the region’s cane cutters. He was unprepared for the reality he found: “A funeral, literally every day, for a sugar cane worker who had died of this kidney disease.” He has since returned to Nicaragua and neighbouring El Salvador, as well as India and Sri Lanka, to cover the epidemic and scientists’ responses to it.

Unlike chronic kidney disease, which is mostly seen among elderly people in urban areas, chronic kidney disease of unknown origin (CKDu) is believed to kill roughly 40,000 people a year, primarily from marginalised agricultural communities living along the equator.

Neraldo Jardiel Cantillano Carrero, 30, receives dialysis at home. He was a sugar cane worker for two years.

Neraldo Jardiel Cantillano Carrero, 30, receives dialysis at home. He was a sugar cane worker for two years.

Baffled by the ubiquity and intensity of CKDu in Nicaragua, researchers at first questioned whether the deaths could be put down to diet, toxins or dehydration, allowing sugar companies to deny any potential causal link between the disease and working conditions on the plantations. Now the science is underlining a clearer connection between heavy labour in high temperatures and incidence of CKDu. Research has shown that basic workplace improvements, such as regular access to water, rest and shade, can significantly decrease potential kidney injury among labourers.

For the 2,500 field workers at Nicaragua’s largest and oldest sugar mill, Ingenio San Antonio (ISA), this is welcome news. Just five years ago, ISA was among a number of mills donating hundreds of thousands of dollars to research non-work related causes of CKD. Today ISA is at the very heart of an occupational health initiative that has the potential to substantially mitigate, if not eradicate, kidney disease among its sugar labourers.

The focus of the “Adelante” initiative is simple: to limit workers’ exposure to heat stress by introducing compulsory measures such as mandated shade, rest, water and electrolyte breaks. Data from the human rights and occupational health organisation La Isla Network, which is working with ISA to implement these interventions, found that an enhanced rest schedule and improved access to hydration and shade reduced kidney injury among labourers by 70%. The data also found that the labourers’ workload hugely matters: those with heavier loads were 12 times more likely to contract renal damage during harvest than those with a lighter load.

Sugar cane workers in protective clothing arrive at the fields.

Sugar cane workers in protective clothing arrive at the fields.

As the global climate heats up, the potential for damage to human health increases. Research has shown that extreme heat stress can lead to fatal heart attacks and other cardiovascular fatalities, as seen by the deaths of hundreds of migrant workers every year in Qatar. In Nicaragua, while other factors such as metals, pesticides or toxins may still contribute to CKDu, “the most affected workers are those that work in very hot climates and at the same time have an enormous physical workload,” says Dr Catharina Wesseling, an epidemiologist based at the Karolinska Institute of Sweden.

“You can see sugar cane workers as a sentinel population. They are working in the hottest climates and conditions possible and at the same time their energy expenditure is comparable to half marathon runners … or to [those engaged] in military operations, only they do [this work] every day,” says Wesseling.

“So the combination of those two factors causes an excessive exposure to external and internal heat, and that causes dehydration and alterations of the whole renal system, and leads, in the end, to chronic kidney disease.”

Workers cutting in burned fields wear dust monitors on their chests.

Workers cutting in burned fields wear dust monitors on their chests.

The men working on ISA’s plantations used to chop as many as 7 tonnes of cane each day for seven days a week, labouring up to 14-hours a day in 38C (100.4F) heat with few, if any, breaks. Now they are working just six hours a day for six days a week, taking rest periods of between 10 and 30 minutes every hour after work begins at 6am. Labourers have also been given special wicking shirts and PPE to keep them cool and protect them from injury.

“Many mills and many companies will tell you today they have some sort of ‘water and shade programme’. But having [just any] ‘intervention’ does not mean you have a sufficient intervention,” says La Isla Network’s co-founder Jason Glaser, who is leading the initiative.

“It’s no different than if you had high blood pressure and you were only taking half of your medication. If you don’t have adequate timing of rest, shade, water or electrolytes, you will not keep your core temperature down, and you will still get kidney damage.”

Although CKDu was first documented among sugar cane workers in Costa Rica in the 1970s, it is likely that the “mysterious” epidemic has affected plantation labourers ever since sugar cane was first farmed in the Caribbean in the 1600s.

“If you look at the death records [of slaves forced to work on sugar plantations], their mortality was much higher, much younger than if you compare them with those of slaves in other forms of forced labour,” says Glaser.

Workers on ISA plantations are now provided with PPE to prevent injury as well as special wicking shirts to keep them cool.

Workers on ISA plantations are now provided with PPE to prevent injury as well as special wicking shirts to keep them cool.

“There are other stories from the 1930s of men in Nicaragua dying before their 40s of ‘exhaustion’. In India, in plantations where they only cut two tonnes of sugar cane per day, we don’t see CKDu reported; but if you compare it to the lowlands of Mesoamerica, where they cut six tonnes per day in the high heat, you do.

“In every place you look that has this algorithm [of high heat combined with heavy labour] – like brickmaking, construction or mining, in Central America, south-east Asia or India or Sri Lanka – you will see it.”

In Nicaragua, where sugar accounts for 4% of GDP, CKDu is officially recognised as an occupational-related illness. But to qualify for benefits and specialist healthcare – which involves haemodialysis – patients must prove they worked for 250 weeks and became sick while working. The problem is that many labourers get sick within just two or three harvests, says Glaser, leaving them without access to treatment.

The people of ‘La Isla de Viudas’ meet to raise money for their community-built and maintained water system, which provides clean water to 1,500 people.

The people of ‘La Isla de Viudas’ meet to raise money for their community-built and maintained water system, which provides clean water to 1,500 people.

Currently, there are no mandated, industry-wide occupational health protections for sugar cane workers. Bonsucro – the global sugar cane platform that maintains the most widely used standards for social and environmental sustainability in the industry, and which is also a founding member of the Adelante initiative – says it is a standard for all Bonsucro members (there are 135 mills in 19 countries) that field workers have access to “sufficient drinking water”. Yet what is deemed “sufficient” and what else might be “consider[ed] occupational risk such as heat stress and long working hours” must be determined by the mills themselves, says Bonsucro’s Latin America director Miguel Hernández. Over time, it may become a requirement that workers follow a specific rest schedule, dependent on the initiative’s findings, he added.

The Adelante research is being logged into a database and shared with other mills and will eventually be rolled out to other countries such as Mexico and Costa Rica, say Hernández and Glaser. There is then potential that the findings could be used to improve working conditions in entirely different sectors, says Glaser, such as construction, mining and brickmaking.

Maritza Zapata Gonzalez at her son Walter’s grave at Guadalupe cemetery. He died of CKDu a month ago. Maritza also lost her husband to CKDnT

Maritza Zapata Gonzalez at her son Walter’s grave at Guadalupe cemetery. He died of CKDu a month ago. Maritza also lost her husband to CKDnT

For communities at the heart of this epidemic, the initiative has already made a profound impact. Chichigalpa native William Martinez, who lost various uncles, cousins, friends and his father to CKDu, has watched the disease “end the dreams of entire families”. Thanks to improved working conditions at ISA, medical interventions such as dialysis and field research allowing better insight into what might cause CKDu, plantation workers are now encouraging their children to go to school rather than replace them in the fields.

“The psychological damage of knowing that someone in your family is sick is also decreasing,” says Martinez. “And that is an extremely important outcome.”

https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2020/nov/27/the-mystery-epidemic-striking-nicaraguas-sugar-cane-workers-a-photo-essay


Undocumented Immigrants Are Still Suffering With No Federal Relief

Undocumented immigrants have had to fend for themselves during the coronavirus crisis.
by
Mary Ann Koruth, a freelance journalist covering immigration and culture in New Jersey, and a core contributor to Newest Americans.
Photography by Ed Kashi
September 28, 2020

https://www.thenation.com/article/society/undocumented-immigration-covid-cares/



Driving along Throckmorton street off Route 9 in central New Jersey, one sees the railroad tracks appearing almost out of nowhere, side by side with the road, out of the shrubbery and trees that have grown like a hood around it. The immigrant workers of Freehold Borough call it La Via—the Way; for years they have walked along these tracks into the center of town to gather and look for work. You see them walking or sitting along the embankment—Hispanic men carrying backpacks, our pandemic era signaled now by the blue surgical masks they’ve donned to protect against Covid-19.

Freehold Borough—famous as Bruce Springsteen’s childhood home—is a tiny, historic town with a revolutionary past. A sign along the railroad on Throckmorton street commemorates the Battle of Monmouth, fought nearby in June 1778. In the 90s, Freehold became a hub for immigrant farm labor. By 2010, nearly half of its 12,000 residents were undocumented Hispanic workers and their families, crowded into the town’s barely two-square-mile radius.

In the early 2000s, Freehold’s day laborers congregated in the town’s unofficial “muster zone,” a shady patch alongside the tracks where workers waited to be picked up by contractors, landscapers, and anyone else hiring day labor. This irked some townsfolk who pressed the town council to prevent them from gathering. Things came to a head in 2003 when the incumbent mayor campaigned on an anti-immigrant platform, pushing for random home inspections that forced day laborers to stop looking for work. When protests and negotiations failed, the laborers filed a federal lawsuit against the Borough of Freehold and won. The court ruling permitted the men to return to the muster zone without fear of being ticketed by local police for loitering and panhandling, but when the pandemic hit in March 2020, there was still no town-sanctioned site where the workers could gather and safely seek work. These days, they cluster in the parking lot of a 6/12 convenience store that abuts the railroad, or outside the bus station and the Rita’s Italian Ice franchise adjacent to it.

Like it did elsewhere in the country, the pandemic shattered the fragile ecosystem of daily wage work in Freehold, subjecting its undocumented community to extreme loss of income. Studies have established that minorities and low-income communities are at persistently higher risk of falling severely ill from the coronavirus because of poor access to health benefits and economic challenges. The virus’s impact in Freehold is no different—by June, 72 percent of the town’s 404 positive cases self-reported as Latino/Hispanic. Casa Freehold, a local all-volunteer grassroots group that advocates for Freehold’s immigrant workers, began organizing food drives. Though the town stepped in to support the workers by providing free food and household supplies, and access to free hospital care, the CARES Act, the federal government’s bailout to aid families affected by the pandemic, completely passed them by.

The act has not only failed low-income, undocumented immigrant populations but, according to its critics, was designed to do so. It was widely criticized for denying financial relief to American citizens who are married to undocumented taxpayers and file taxes jointly, but in immigrant communities such as Freehold’s, it was a slap in the face to undocumented taxpayers because it excluded their dependent children who are American citizens. This exclusion of “mixed-status” families is particularly egregious because, in addition to denying relief to their American children, the CARES Act effectively penalizes undocumented workers for their compliance with federal law and for acting in good faith to document their residency in this, their adopted country.

Meanwhile, local health workers and activists have struggled to assuage stigma around the virus. Health educator Angelica Espinal-Garcia found herself advising concerned employers and encargados—middlemen who rent apartments to workers who live in shared spaces—against evicting sickened workers. Since encargados are not the actual homeowners, they can get away with charging high rents—as much as $500 per room—and can take over their renters’ lives, even holding their mail until the rent is paid. Even with the federal eviction moratorium in place, workers are afraid to come out and self-identify, she said. “They’re afraid of the police, of being fired.” One infected worker was told to move out within a week by his encargado, who feared he would infect other tenants. Casa Freehold had to intervene to prevent the eviction.

Men usually wire money on a monthly basis to their families back home from the local 6/12 store. Its owner told me that since the pandemic, the number of men coming in to do so has dropped; instead, in April and May, many came in to collect money that their families wired to them. He’s never seen this happen on such a scale. In the parking lot where the workers gather, I watched a car pull in and a group of young workers scramble to get in, ignoring an activist handing out free masks; the promise of paid work far outweighed the threat of the virus.

OSCAR J. DAY LABOREROscar J. arrived in Freehold in 2007 from Mexico City. He crossed over to the United States over eight days, walking through the desert, leaving his then-wife and two children behind in Mexico City. His daughter was 12 and his so…

OSCAR J.
DAY LABORER

Oscar J. arrived in Freehold in 2007 from Mexico City. He crossed over to the United States over eight days, walking through the desert, leaving his then-wife and two children behind in Mexico City. His daughter was 12 and his son 10, and he has not seen them since (he is now remarried).

For years, he worked for various construction crews, and in 2019, he began working independently. “I always liked my job, the people I worked with liked my work. I wanted to depend on myself, since I am good at what I do,” he said. In early March, he began feeling ill and had trouble breathing. A week later, feeling very weak, he went to CentraState Medical Center in Freehold, where he was diagnosed with Covid-19. He was admitted and kept in isolation, and because he has type-2 diabetes, he was at higher risk for severe illness from the virus—at one point he had to be intubated. He learned about the lockdown and the surge of the pandemic in New Jersey from television screens in hospital.

“It was very sad; I didn’t know what to think. I thought I wasn’t going to make it. I had no strength left after I was released from the hospital,” he said. His wife, a domestic worker who cleans houses in Lakewood (many of the Orthodox Jewish community’s homes in Lakewood are cleaned by Freehold’s Hispanic women), continued working while he was in the hospital, but came down with a milder case of Covid-19 after he was released from hospital. Between her earnings and their savings, they are able to support their family. Meanwhile, the hospital bills are coming in, some with a notice of delinquency. “One is $1,500,” he said and shook his head. He hopes to pay them off in installments.

ALICIA VALERIANO SHIFT SUPERVISOR/PHARMACY WORKERAlicia Valeriano is from Mexico City, and when the pandemic began, she was working almost 80 hours every week at three different jobs—waitressing, painting tiles, and as a cashier—alongside her work t…

ALICIA VALERIANO
SHIFT SUPERVISOR/PHARMACY WORKER

Alicia Valeriano is from Mexico City, and when the pandemic began, she was working almost 80 hours every week at three different jobs—waitressing, painting tiles, and as a cashier—alongside her work towards a GED. As the economy shut down, she lost both her part time jobs, but she still has 40 hours of work a week as a permanent employee at a major pharmaceutical chain. Before the pandemic, Valeriano had only to worry about providing dinner for her three children. But as the pandemic worsened in Freehold, her husband, a day laborer, contracted Covid-19 and lost two months of work. Despite having paid taxes for 18 of the 20 years she’s been in the United States, and despite the fact that two of her children are US citizens, her family did not qualify for financial relief under the federal government’s CARES Act.

“The children see that you’re nervous about the money. They see you walking back and forth, and they notice it,” she said.

Though the CARES act hurt her, nothing has disappointed Valriano more than having to postpone her dream of buying a home. Valeriano had a down payment ready and was approved for a mortgage taken in her nephew and her 23-year-old daughter’s names; her daughter is a recipient of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals status. When the lockdown occurred, her realtor told her their lenders would not proceed unless she could show stronger credit. In June, Valeriano called her realtor again. She was ready to put down a larger down payment and take the loan in her name now. But the realtor had more bad news for her: The rules had changed since the pandemic, and the lender was no longer working with buyers who did not have Social Security numbers. Valeriano is soft-spoken and reserved, and in her quiet voice, insisted to me over the phone, that she was disappointed but not deterred. “I’m not going to let anyone come between me and my dream,” she said. “I’m going to find a way to buy a house.”

GREGORIA R. DOMESTIC WORKER/ HOUSE CLEANERGregoria R., a domestic worker, left Puebla, Mexico, in 1992 and entered the United States through California. She came directly to Freehold to join her father, who was already here, working as a day laborer…

GREGORIA R.
DOMESTIC WORKER/ HOUSE CLEANER

Gregoria R., a domestic worker, left Puebla, Mexico, in 1992 and entered the United States through California. She came directly to Freehold to join her father, who was already here, working as a day laborer. Her first job was at a greenhouse in Colt’s Neck, then as a busgirl at a local restaurant. In her first months in Freehold, she walked around town, hustling for work. “I could not speak much English,” she said, “but when I met people I asked—you need me?” She worked for 10 years in the dry cleaning business, keeping eight-hour days, six days a week, operating pressing machines for men’s shirts in very hot conditions. Since 2010, she has worked cleaning homes for members of the Orthodox Jewish Community in Lakewood, N.J., south of Freehold. So many Hispanic women clean houses in Lakewood that Casa Freehold offers classes on how to work in observant Jewish households. Before the pandemic, Gregoria was able to work five days a week, cleaning two or three houses a day. In March, when the lockdown began, her employers called and told her to stay home. “I lost all my former employers,” she said, “They just don’t call me.” Feeling desperate, she texted a woman she used to work for, asking if she could come back. With her help, Gregoria returned to work in the first week of June. Unlike before Covid-19, now she has no guarantee of a schedule.

Gregoria raises her two school-age daughters in the second-floor apartment of a tiny house on Court Street. Sixth-grader Mari translated for us. Gregoria was able to pay rent for April, but not May. New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy’s anti-eviction order protects renters who fallen behind on their rent during the lockdown, but the rent is not forgiven. “I feel stressed all the time—there is stress in my head,” she said. She takes a bus to Lakewood and back, paying $3.80 for a ticket each way. She and the other women from Freehold walk from house to house, earning an hourly wage between $10 and $14.

I later found out that Gregoria’s husband was deported to Mexico on charges of domestic violence. Casa Freehold intervened on her behalf to file a “U” visa, which is awarded to victims of domestic violence. In 2011, on the date she was to appear in court, Gregoria went to work, missing the single appointment that could have put her on a path to citizenship. She is not alone in this: Many undocumented immigrants are too overwhelmed or simply frightened to choose between putting a day’s wages on the table and showing up in court to speak for themselves. Does she regret it? “Yes,” she nodded, “but I didn’t understand at that time how important it was, and I had the pressure of working to pay my bills.” She added, “Now I know.”

FEDERICO M. DAY LABORERFederico M. is from Puebla, Mexico, where he upholstered car interiors. Despite the perils of crossing the border, Federico is among many migrants who travel back and forth between the United States and Mexico, staying for yea…

FEDERICO M.
DAY LABORER

Federico M. is from Puebla, Mexico, where he upholstered car interiors. Despite the perils of crossing the border, Federico is among many migrants who travel back and forth between the United States and Mexico, staying for years at a time. His second trip through the Sonoran Desert lasted five days and was a brush with death: “My legs gave out,” he said. His food and water ran out and he fell behind, unable to stand up and join the other men. His smuggler came back for him with water and medicines that gave him the energy to walk. He was told to follow a trail of garbage and items shed by those who came before him—or risk getting lost. He crossed over into the states somewhere east of the border with Tijuana.

In mid-March he was infected by the virus and checked into CentraState Medical Center in Freehold, where he was intubated and treated. The nurses pitched in to pay for his taxi-ride home when he was released from hospital. Casa Freehold arranged for funds to pay for his medicines and delivered food to the house where he quarantined. News travels fast in a town as small as Freehold, and it was not long before word spread among fellow workers that Federico had been sick. “After they know you have Covid, they don’t want to have anything to do with you,” he said. Leaving the hospital with no prospects for work, no home to go to, and no money to send his family was a moment of reckoning. At the end of this year, Federico plans to return to Puebla. He has, after all, fulfilled his dream of building a house for his wife and four children, and has paid for their education. “I feel like a cat with nine lives. I got two chances at life—once in the desert, and now after Covid,” he said. “Going home to Mexico will give me another chance to live, another start.”

ELEAZAR H. KITCHEN WORKEREleazar H. came from Oaxaca and worked in the same restaurant on Main Street in downtown Freehold since 2004. It has changed hands over those 16 years, and Eleazar reeled off the names of some of the cuisines he’s learned—Am…

ELEAZAR H.
KITCHEN WORKER

Eleazar H. came from Oaxaca and worked in the same restaurant on Main Street in downtown Freehold since 2004. It has changed hands over those 16 years, and Eleazar reeled off the names of some of the cuisines he’s learned—American, Italian, Indian. Though he could earn more as a day laborer, he prefers the security of kitchen work. He got his first and only raise six years ago, from $250 a week to $550.

In 2016, when the restaurant changed hands once again, Eleazar’s new employers paid his wages a week late, so that he was always short one week of pay—saying they were withholding wages in the form of a “deposit,” a common practice with undocumented workers that is actually a bond intended to keep workers loyal. During the lockdown, Eleazar asked for his deposit to tide him over for the month of March, but was refused. Still, he went back to work on take-out orders. A week and a half later, feeling feverish and cold, he went to a doctor and found out he had Covid-19. He has since recovered, but he suffered malaise and panic, with sleepless nights spent pacing outside the basement apartment he shares with two friends.

In June, after two months at home without pay, he got a call from the chef at the restaurant. The restaurant was reopening, the chef said, but Eleazar needed to prove that his “body was clean” before he could come back to work. He asked Eleazar to get tested again. By now, with help from Angelica Espinal-Garcia, a health educator, Eleazar refused to get retested. There was no guarantee that the results would be negative, even though he had recovered: “No more, I told him, no more.” He wasn’t coming back, he told the surprised chef—despite their owing him $700 in back pay. He was more than a cook at the restaurant; he was their handyman, plumber—an all-in-one guy—but his wages never reflected this except for occasional extra cash. He is now working a new job at a restaurant in Manalapan and paying off bills for his treatment.

ANGELICA ESPINAL-GARCIA, MPH, MCHES HEALTH EDUCATORAs news of the novel coronavirus began to spread in February, Angelica Espinal-Garcia, a health educator for Freehold’s department of health and president of the board of Casa Freehold, began holdin…

ANGELICA ESPINAL-GARCIA, MPH, MCHES
HEALTH EDUCATOR

As news of the novel coronavirus began to spread in February, Angelica Espinal-Garcia, a health educator for Freehold’s department of health and president of the board of Casa Freehold, began holding information sessions at local churches and in the offices of Casa Freehold on Jackson Street. “There was a lot of interest,” she said, “I felt that people were looking for me.” She advised them on what symptoms to look for, and what precautions to take, using guidance from the CDC, before the pandemic was declared a national emergency. Now, she is a liaison with the Hispanic community, helping them navigate the health care system when they call her or Casa Freehold with questions about the virus. “I try to listen,” she said, “so they can tell me. Trust is very valuable in the Hispanic community.” At the end of the initial surge of cases in Freehold Borough, however, Angelica found herself dealing with a unique situation among workers who had recovered from Covid-19: Social stigma and fear within the community was preventing them from returning to their jobs and their living quarters as employers and the middlemen who rent to them required assurance that the workers were not contagious. “I get calls all the time,” she said, from desperate workers. She reaches out to their encargados: “Your renters are not the only people you can get it [the virus] from,” she tells them. “We’re Hispanic, we should support each other.”

Angelica is from Honduras: Her parents separated and her mother left for the United States to escape political violence when Angelica was 7, leaving Angelica’s grandmother to raise her. She arrived in the States when she was 16 on a petition from her father, who is a citizen. Now an American citizen herself, Angelica was able to sponsor her siblings, who came to New Jersey last year—that was the first time that Angelica’s sister had seen her mother in 29 years.

“When I see inequities in the health system, to be honest, I see my parents, because I have seen them struggle,” she said. “I feel I’m doing the right job. Just talking to the patients’ co-workers, and to their encargados. They’re scared, they want to get the people out of the house if they tested positive. I feel I’m making a difference.”

MARIO R. DAY LABORER“I am afraid of the water,” Mario said with an apologetic smile, about his decision to avoid coming to the United States by crossing the Rio Grande. We met in the backyard of the house where he rents a single room. He keeps the t…

MARIO R.
DAY LABORER

“I am afraid of the water,” Mario said with an apologetic smile, about his decision to avoid coming to the United States by crossing the Rio Grande. We met in the backyard of the house where he rents a single room. He keeps the tools he needs as a landscaper and day laborer—the wheelbarrow and other implements—against a wall, beside the herbs and flowers he tends. There were patches of mint and an evergreen pruned to a perfect spiral, which he had brought home one day when a client didn’t want it anymore. “It was too pretty to throw away,” he said. He chose the desert and its hazards over the water and crossed into the United States in 2006.

In 2019, he was walking home from Casa Freehold when local police stopped him without cause and asked his name. When he hesitated to immediately disclose it, they took him to the police station, where he called Rita Dentino, executive director of Casa Freehold and an old friend. She went to the police station immediately and filed a complaint with the ACLU. Mario, who has no criminal record, was released without either party pressing charges.

Since the lockdown, his work has dropped to one or two days a week. Before the pandemic, he was able to wire up to $400 a month to his family in Puebla, Mexico. This April he sent them $100, in May, $150. The pandemic has forced him to consider returning to Mexico within a year—he is simply not able to make ends meet. “I am tired,” he said. He has a wife, eight children, and some grandchildren back home. He plans to leave when he has earned enough to buy a plane ticket home. “This country is beautiful. But for immigrants, it’s not easy.” Tears sprang into his eyes. “The people are listening to the president, and so they say, ‘Mexicans are no good.’ Sometimes I am scared.”


Scenes from New York's Fight for Black Lives

The sixth day of protests in New York over the police killing of unarmed black Minneapolis resident George Floyd were marked with a rally beginning in Foley Square and moving to various locations around lower Manhattan on Tuesday. A diverse crowd of thousands of New Yorkers showed up to protest the death of Floyd and countless other black Americans at the hands of the police, bearing signs that read “It Was Murder,” “I Can’t Breathe,” and “Black Lives Matter.”

It wasn’t lost on many attendees that the date—June 2—marked one of the first days of Pride Month, as was evidenced by a series of signs featuring the pink triangles of queer liberation along with the message, “White Silence = Black Death.” Other signs cast a light on the recent deaths of unarmed black Americans Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor, whose names have taken on a new resonance as protestors take to the streets night after night to fight for justice.


Pride Cannot—And Must Not—Exist Without Anti-Racist Work

“Pride is a riot!” proclaimed a banner hung outside the Stonewall Inn in the West Village on Tuesday, capped off by a Black Lives Matter hashtag. That was the sentiment protestors were greeted with as they filed into the narrow square outside the historic gay bar to protest the killing of Tony McDadeNina Pop, and other black trans victims of violent crimes.

The scene outside Stonewall early on Tuesday evening was calm and quiet at first, akin to the vigil held there the previous night for LGBTQ+ people of color who had been killed. Many of the protestors in attendance had been at other rallies around the city earlier in the week, but the air outside Stonewall was imbued with a specific kind of grief for a population that is too frequently harmed and too rarely mourned on a national scale. “I identify as queer, so I feel like I need to be here to support black trans people. Their death rate is so high, it’s terrifying,” said Leila, 27.

The names of black trans lives lost were chanted with increasing fervor by the crowd, with the words “Tony McDade” and “Nina Pop” echoing all the way down to where a small clutch of NYPD officers was standing on 5th Avenue. While the crowd included people of color, many attendees presented as white, in a hopeful sign that the white LGBTQ+ community—or, at least, its New York subset—could be beginning to reckon with its own foundational racism.

Things got heated around 6 p.m. on the intersection of 6th Avenue and Washington Place, a few blocks from Stonewall, when protestors began blocking traffic. What began with a few people sitting in the intersection quickly grew to a crowd of at least 100, with one protestor leading the charge from the front and reminding the assembled crowd, “Our trans brothers and sisters get lost and killed. My black and brown brothers and sisters, we are people. Live up to the words of your constitution!” Surveying the scene, it was hard not to think of Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia RiveraLarry Kramer, and generations of LGBTQ+ leaders who insisted that the ease and convenience of the straight world must be interrupted if the queer world was to assert its right to exist.

What was particularly striking about the traffic stoppage on 6th and Washington was the level of support it garnered from the very cars it was blocking. Drivers stuck fists out of their windows in support to exultant whoops from the crowd, and one city worker even briefly rushed from his vehicle to take a knee with protestors. One truck was stopped in the intersection for over half an hour, with no ability to reverse course, but its drivers didn’t seem perturbed: “The movement is important,” Christopher, 24, told me quietly when I asked whether he minded being stopped by the protestors.

While many of the protestors were veterans of other rallies, some ventured out—amid COVID-19 concerns and the increased threat of police brutality—for the first time on Tuesday to support the black LGBTQ+ population. “This is my first day protesting and I’m usually not one to come out, but I absolutely had to come out for my people,” said Monique, 27, adding, “Black people, we don’t ask for much. We’re are always strong, we’ve been through so much, but when you’re not just subtly racist but blatantly killing us, and doing it publicly in such a vulgar manner to let us know you disrespect and hate us and don’t value us—how far have we come since MLK? How can we trust you to protect us if you value us as nothing?”

Many white LGBTQ+ people—myself included—have grown up and come out into a world where we have the right to legally marry, serve in the military, and any number of other civil rights, without being forced to reckon with the fact that those rights were hard-won for us by queer activists of color. It’s been easy for me to think of Pride as a party—an excuse to wear rainbow, drink too much, and take to the streets of New York with my friends in celebration—because the NYPD that’s now brutally attacking my colleagues has always been invested in keeping those same streets safe for me. When QPOC are already doing the work of telling white queer people how to be better allies, it is incumbent upon all of us to listen, educate ourselves, and carry the message back to our white friends and family: solidarity is no longer enough, if it ever was.

If we wish to consider ourselves worthy of the legacy of Johnson, Rivera, Maxine Perkins, Audre Lorde, and countless other people of color who fought for queer liberation, we must do the work: whether that’s donating to anti-racist causes, lobbying our elected officials to reallocate police funding to social services, showing up at protests to put our bodies between black and brown protestors and the police, or any number of other actions. The scene at Stonewall on Tuesday ably demonstrated that the struggle is ongoing for queer people of color, and white queer people have assimilated and exempted ourselves long enough: it’s past time to take up the fight.