MORE LIFE

Photographer James Dickerson’s unique eye and personal grief captures local protests against police brutality.

BY JAMES DICKERSON @dirtykics

Photos taken with a Roleiflex 2.8e. Film: Ilford HP5 400. In 120 format.
Developed at home. View the complete gallery at dirtykics.com.

I wish my voice was louder.

It’s too soft, and too late to be someone else. So I whisper to myself: “You are who you are- I am who I am” until this mantra dominates my meditative soul, listening and thinking of me: The quiet voice with the steady eye.
Saturday, May 29th 2020

That lump of coal America received for Christmas was used to light a fire in the heart of broken-hearted. Unfortunately, it took the lives of African Americans to fuel this fire. The death of George Floyd was one that could not be ignored. The death of Breonna Taylor is one we’re hoping isn’t. What have we done that allows us to pretend that America is worth saving?

Protests across the “greatest country on earth” look like pimples rising upon its white face. Fires burning red, looting destroying its smooth surface, and it all makes sense: this is America finding out its atrocities make it pretty ugly, and no amount of facial cream will help its disposition.

My presence at the protest was here and there.

Conflicted by a few things- as a photographer, a black male and a victim of police brutality. I couldn’t wrap my mind tight enough around all three long enough to be all three at the same time. I wanted to conquer the trauma of nearly losing my life at 23, but also wanted to be a voice for my people visually by showing the protest in a different light. So much of our pain, and the pain of others, is on display, and I did not want to be another photographer that saw that and that only.

I wanted to show it all. The love of a people in solidarity against police brutality and overall acceptance of black life. A full on display of white allies, brown allies and the LGBTQ community that indeed needs us all collectively to be human towards each other.

But I also wanted to put my hands on a cop in revenge. I wanted to sacrifice my freedom to end what I’ve had nightmares about. Lost hours of my life to.

But I would’ve lost too much.

My kids would’ve lost too much.
America can’t pretend that it was a safe place for people of color since its creation. It’s been a horrible ride, and it seems that, while the fires rage and the people rage, it still wants to claim itself as a land of true freedom.

I wish my voice were louder.

I would ask America why it thinks it’s worth saving. Then I would ask it to kill itself. Because anyone that blind to the lives it’s ruined does not deserve to live. 