When the protests following George Floyd’s death began, a friend asked me why I was photographing them. I learned about being the “you people” at an early age. My attentiveness and actions on these early morning runs were to avoid any trouble. Black, indigenous, and people of color have been getting lynched, murdered, raped, and socially and economically shackled for centuries. Sometimes, for something as simple as looking at someone. You could say my action was in response to psychological trauma passed from generation to generation. However, the time to break this tradition is now more than ever.
As a photographer, immigrant, and person of color, I feel I have a duty to document them. When I’m out there, I’m looking for those moments that signify a feeling, thought, or emotion that reflects people’s distaste for how this country’s leadership handles things. When I’m out there, I’m not just creating photographs of a protest; I’m participating in a social movement towards equity and justice. These images are my voice in this movement. Because as long as there is no justice, there will be no peace.