"If you could change one thing about your community, what would it be and why?" (500 words)
"What makes you happy?" Holding my camera, a small notebook, and a pen, I asked to the pair of eyes in front of me.
"What makes me happy?" They hesitated. "Knowing that my family will see the benefits of my sweat."
Going around the streets gathering courage to ask strangers about their lives became a common, yet hard, practice during summer.
When the opportunity of participating at an anti-violence program as a student photographer was given to me, I couldn't hide my excitement. I was going to be part of a movement that aimed to portray a brighter side of my community.
I had to approach passersby, interview them, and capture their essence through a lens.
Interacting with my surroundings has never been an easy task to me; interacting with the people that didn't fall into the category of "my surroundings" was even harder. I was afraid of paralyzing in the middle of a greeting or even of asking something that would offend my interviewee. Doubts seized my mind, but that was something I overcame every time a warm expression greeted mine.
"Your eyes, young lady, scream for hope." The old man sitting in a desolated bank said.
I was part of the voices that were constantly silenced by stereotypes, and the only way something was going to change was if I help to characterize who people really were. The old man who sits every morning at the park by his own, he's a veteran who hasn't gave up the fight. The lady selling ice cream around the corner, she left her native country four years ago, aiming to improve her constraint of resources. The woman collecting empty bottles to make some profit, she has the years over her shoulders, but her condition doesn't stop the desire to prosper one step at a time. Little by little, I encouraged myself and conquered my fears; what motivated me was more powerful than the worst scenarios I pictured on my mind.
Thanks to the exposure of one of my biggest weaknesses, I was able to see beyond the negative connotations my community was associated with. It is more than high poverty and delinquency rates, more than individuals that are seen as statistics.
It is about the elders' look in the eyes, the smile the lady selling ice cream greeted people with, the person collecting bottles to recycle them and make some profit, they have a story to tell, a story that often remains untold.
Perceptions of people and places are something that can be overturned with time and experience. Through a lens, from different angles, things can be perceived differently even for the most critical eye. Brownsville is a community where people who dream reside, where the desire to surpass themselves as individuals is alive. Everyone is coexisting, attempting to catch a glance of their personalized version of success.
Brownsville might be sank in a sea of bad perceptions, but there's people trying to make it float.
If there's something I could change about my community, it would be the way it's perceived.
"What makes you happy?" Holding my camera, a small notebook, and a pen, I asked to the pair of eyes in front of me.
"What makes me happy?" They hesitated. "Knowing that my family will see the benefits of my sweat."
Going around the streets gathering courage to ask strangers about their lives became a common, yet hard, practice during summer.
When the opportunity of participating at an anti-violence program as a student photographer was given to me, I couldn't hide my excitement. I was going to be part of a movement that aimed to portray a brighter side of my community.
I had to approach passersby, interview them, and capture their essence through a lens.
Interacting with my surroundings has never been an easy task to me; interacting with the people that didn't fall into the category of "my surroundings" was even harder. I was afraid of paralyzing in the middle of a greeting or even of asking something that would offend my interviewee. Doubts seized my mind, but that was something I overcame every time a warm expression greeted mine.
"Your eyes, young lady, scream for hope." The old man sitting in a desolated bank said.
I was part of the voices that were constantly silenced by stereotypes, and the only way something was going to change was if I help to characterize who people really were. The old man who sits every morning at the park by his own, he's a veteran who hasn't gave up the fight. The lady selling ice cream around the corner, she left her native country four years ago, aiming to improve her constraint of resources. The woman collecting empty bottles to make some profit, she has the years over her shoulders, but her condition doesn't stop the desire to prosper one step at a time. Little by little, I encouraged myself and conquered my fears; what motivated me was more powerful than the worst scenarios I pictured on my mind.
Thanks to the exposure of one of my biggest weaknesses, I was able to see beyond the negative connotations my community was associated with. It is more than high poverty and delinquency rates, more than individuals that are seen as statistics.
It is about the elders' look in the eyes, the smile the lady selling ice cream greeted people with, the person collecting bottles to recycle them and make some profit, they have a story to tell, a story that often remains untold.
Perceptions of people and places are something that can be overturned with time and experience. Through a lens, from different angles, things can be perceived differently even for the most critical eye. Brownsville is a community where people who dream reside, where the desire to surpass themselves as individuals is alive. Everyone is coexisting, attempting to catch a glance of their personalized version of success.
Brownsville might be sank in a sea of bad perceptions, but there's people trying to make it float.
If there's something I could change about my community, it would be the way it's perceived.