This body of work is the second chapter of a three-part series exploring historical legacies that are embedded in the American subconscious, and their impact on present generations. Originally commissioned to visit Greenwood, Mississippi, I have returned to this community now for more than two years trying to understand how race relations in this southern town have changed, and how they have stayed the same. I am interested in honestly and intimately examining the racial and socioeconomic divide that remains in order to facilitate a dialogue within the community.
In late 2010 a young man I know from the corners in Baptist Town, named Demetrius
“Butta†Anderson, 18, is shot and killed. His older brother and cousin were both previously murdered. The following week I drive 16 hours to Greenwood, Mississippi for Butta’s funeral. Shoulder to shoulder, the community comes together to mourn. After songs and short remembrances, the Pastor steps up and quickly clarifies that he is not there to judge, but he speaks very pointedly to the young people in attendance.
“There’s no salvation in hanging out on the cornerâ€, he says. “The only thing that is assured is a visit to a jail cell or an early grave...if you live by the sword, you will die by the sword.†His admonishment isn’t lost on the adults who nod fervently. They have seen too much violence over the years. For the younger generation, many of them have never lost anyone so close.
While many of us would like to believe that we live in a post-racial society it is hard to imagine a place like Baptist Town without the South’s troubled history of segregation. In a city where 50.9 percent of the black residents live below the poverty line as opposed to 15 percent of the whites, my goal is to remind people that the real legacies of racism in the South continue to impact people economically and culturally, in persistent and often pernicious ways.
I plan to focus our collective attention on this complicated inheritance by documenting the Baptist Town neighborhood while simultaneously photographing the adjacent, white neighborhood in Greenwood. I plan to display the work to both communities in an effort to actively engage residents in a dialogue about improving the lives of their neighbors who have been disempowered for generations.
These communities are separated by distrust and a history of exploitation. By visually introducing neighbors to one another in an honest and intimate way, my goal is to foster understanding and dispel uncertainty and fear.
This is the second chapter in a three-part-visual-exploration spanning seven years of work in Ohio, Mississippi and Virginia that examines legacies that define communities that are microcosms of the American experience.