Recently, the loud conversations on race have shined a light on our society’s unequal treatment of BIPOC and POC , damaging policies, prejudiced judgments, and a deeply-embedded systemic racism. Despite their existence on a global scale, sometimes society fails in acknowledging, let alone confronting, this unjust state of affairs. .
Recognizing these issues has inspired me to listen to voices aside from my own, to learn things I never knew, to actively support others whenever I can, and to truly recognise my privilege and ask myself, “how I can be an ally for a better world?”
This challenged me to think about the importance of representation and diversity, not just in photography, but in everything.
If I reflect on my past, I can see that for most of my early creative journey, I had gone with the flow, shooting with friends and models who were readily available, along with people who had reached out to me. While my intention was not to restrict the range of my collaborators, and although this approach may be often associated with the natural progression of a young photographer’s journey, the result led me to create a body of work that lacked diversity.
This lack in diversity was raised by my audience some years ago. At the time, I had not engaged with the concept of representation in my art and neither had I realized the full importance of it. Looking back, I feel ashamed at my omission.
In hindsight, I suppose that I was so used to seeing a particular aesthetic in the fairytale and fantasy genre through cartoons, books, TV shows, movies, illustrations, photography, stories, and so on, that I never really questioned my aesthetic preferences.
I now truly understand how toxic the overexposure to the concept of a particular beauty ideal can be.
As a brown-skinned girl, I grew up not seeing myself represented in main roles. In ballet or drama classes, I never got the opportunity to assume an important role and when I look back, neither did my friends of color. Such roles always went to the person who looked like “Dorothy” or “Ariel”, had lighter skin tones, and well, you get the idea.
This realization was impactful and it made me address the fact that I had A LOT of unlearning to do.
A quiet confession is that when I was a child, I used to desperately wish that I was born with caucasian skin, red hair, and green eyes (what can I say, Ariel was my goals). The reality was that at 7 years old, I felt a disconnection with the skin that I was in. It made me feel less beautiful. I felt far away from the long-legged, blonde hair, blue eyed beauty ideal that magazines and movies always sold to me and looking back there is something very wrong with that narrative.
It has taken me a long time to feel comfortable with myself and I can now honestly say I really love myself for all that I am. But it should not have taken this long, and to put it plainly, I should not have to doubt whether I belonged in today’s beauty standards at all.
This is why representation is so important. It visually shows people of all colors that they are considered beautiful in the mainstream world and that they too can be the hero or main character of their own story. And equally as important, it shows everyone else that all kinds of people can be main characters too.
I now notice whether there is diversity in other artists’ work and as a result also notice the distinct lack thereof. Of course, this does not include those who are primarily self-portrait artists but rather those who work frequently with models, clients, and brands.
As a photographer, you are in control of the narrative that you share through your art. Whenever I come across portfolios where only one race or aesthetic is celebrated and portrayed, it can feel a little like being on the outside looking in. One is constantly sold a particular ideal, but never embraced.
I have been on a journey to consciously question and challenge my biases and consider the deeper impact of my work. I have a long way to go but I can say that I now create with more intention.
If my goal is to create imagery that captures the viewer’s interest and inspires them to step into my world for a moment, then I want them to feel accepted within it.
It does not matter what skin color, race, or gender you are, you should know instantly that you are not only welcome in my little worlds, but you are a part of it too.
I believe that within everything you do, there is room to be better and to support the world in your own way, whether that is through supporting ethical brands, cutting down (or out) animal consumption, signing petitions and sending emails to companies you want to see do better, or if you are a photographer, by conscientiously including diversity in your portfolio wherever possible.
Often change only comes when pushed for and it is equally important to know that you have the immediate power of being the change you want to see.
If you want to live in a more inclusive world, then in any way you can, BE more inclusive. Your voice and your vision, no matter where you are in the world, matters. I hope you never forget that.
I would love to hear your thoughts and insight on this topic - In your opinion, do photographers carry a responsibility to consider how their work impacts their audience, or should photographers focus solely on their personal inspirations?
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Thank you to Martha, Michelle, and Yinsey for your help on this post.