Protests are moments of raw emotion that come from people’s desires to be heard and seen, to speak out and raise awareness of a problem, to create a community of the like-minded who desire change. I first began photographing protests while living in New York City, a city I have grown to love like no other. Whether it was protesting against human rights violations at the UN or the run up to the war in Iraq, I would look for that emotional scene that somehow said something about the event and the human condition.
My interest in protests continued as I traveled for work when I was always ready to spare a few hours to photograph any local protest. A morning of visiting the historic center in Mexico City quickly turned into a two hour walk with farmers from southern Mexico calling for a more socialist government. Over a decade later I was in São Paulo, Brazil, when the presidency came under attack and protests erupted every single weekend. I spent many hours photographing the two sides of the impeachment war; one was composed of wealthy Brazilians fighting to rid the country of their socialist president and maintain their status quo, and the other was formed by people who had benefited from many social programs. The marginalized, the gay and trans community, the homeless, defending not just for the president, but their basic human rights and social recognition.
Photographing the recent protests against police violence in New York City was different, very different from the others. These protests felt more personal and cathartic—personal in that the protests are essentially forcing all of us to be self-reflective of our roles in systemic racism, be it due to active or passive thoughts and actions. Yet, under quasi-quarantine conditions, it was cathartic to engage with people who are hurting, to show support for others living injustices, to be part of history, and to document events that reveal deep flaws in our society.