'Over the Years' . Memorial Day in WDC since 1993
Elvert Xavier Barnes Photography . Writings . Ads
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Perhaps, to some these first images are not all that great, however, having had the camera for little more than a year and between a busy work schedule and a court ordered program which ended in October 1994 ... and as was the case on this particular day when I ventured out into the streets ... to take pictures ... which, is the case, with much of my photography since 1992 whenever I view images from my Rolling Thunder 1993 collection I remember, in exquisite detail, what I was going through, at the time. Which, some 12 years later, was and still is in sharp contrast to the experiences of my closet white counterpart.
While the internet, digital photography and the incidents of 11 September 2001 have forever changed the world and, yet, as a 51 year old gay black man who, over the years, practiced integration ... and in sharp contrast to that of my white counterpart the changes that have come have not been enough for me. In fact, the changes that have come for the most part have always benefited 'my white counterpart' while simultaneously negativey impacting every aspect of my life. During which time they would suggest "Give it a couple years ... it'll get better."
In my 2004 Memorial Day photoessay "White Arrogance-We'll Be Safer" I speak of an 11 May 2004 episode of the 'Tavis Smiley Light Night Show' that featured Bill Moyer of Now as a guest. Who when asked to shed light on the highest and lowest points of his career Moyer first reflected on a 'moment' during a documentary trip that he and Maya Angelou had taken to Stamps, Arkansas, which is where she grew up. When turning to walk in the direction of an old grocery store that she had vsited as a little girl ... and down a road that blacks once lived ... not unlike a reflex, Maya, paused and grabbed ahold of Moyer's arm and whispered 'We'd be safer ... if we walked this way ...'. Instead of crossing over the railroad track and walking up the other side. Which is where whites had once lived. And when I now revisit pictures or places that my white counterpart and I once shared my reflex is not unlike that of Maya Angelou.