On
Thursday afternoon, at Cadman Plaza Park, in downtown Brooklyn,
Terrence Floyd took the stage to address a crowd of thousands. They were
gathered at a memorial rally for his older brother, George Floyd,
whose death at the hands of Minneapolis police officers, on May 25th,
has sparked a national uprising. When Floyd reached the podium, he stood
in silence for almost two minutes. The photographer Mark Clennon, who
photographed the memorial and a subsequent march, described the moment
to me in religious terms. “In church, when you go up in front to speak,
people say, ‘Take your time, take your time,’ and I felt that same thing
while he stood out there—the community and the warmth.” As Floyd stood
quietly, the crowd chanted, “You are not alone.”
Members of Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity stand at the front of the crowd.
Clennon,
who is thirty-two years old and works as an editorial and commercial
photographer (he took behind-the-scenes photos for Ava DuVernay’s
Netflix series about the Central Park Five, “When They See Us”),
has attended various other protests, including the many Black Lives
Matter marches in New York in recent years. But the ones these past
weeks have been different. At the memorial, he was conscious of the
helicopters overhead and of rows of police officers watching the
gathering from nearby rooftops. This was the first time that he felt
unsafe. As a black man, Clennon faces a disproportionate risk of
experiencing violence at the hands of law enforcement. But he feels that
his camera offers at least some protection. At a protest during the
past weekend, he had been in a confrontation with police; two of the
friends he was with were arrested, but he was allowed to leave. “We are
all black,” he said. “The only difference was I had my camera.”
Self-portrait in a protester’s sign.
There
is an ongoing debate among photographers, especially urgent in these
past weeks, about the ethics of publishing photographs of protesters.
Some two thousand people have been arrested in New York City in
connection with the protests; identifying participants in pictures could
cause them to face legal consequences. “It’s a tough dilemma,” Clennon
said. “Faces humanize people. They humanize the protest; they humanize
the image. Faces are very, very important.” At the same time, he added,
“I want to be mindful.” He’s chosen not to publish identifying photos of
any protester who seems to be in a volatile situation with law
enforcement—even though such photos, too, could serve as an important
record later on.
A man stands in front of an M.T.A. bus.Clennon
has found that he often shares moments of connection with peaceful
protesters, who look straight at him and into the camera. One woman at
the memorial, wearing her hair in an Afro, caught his eye during Floyd’s
speech. “Our faces were covered, so all we had is eyes,” he recalled.
“It was very comforting: she was lending some spirit to me.”
A protester’s sign.
Protesters walk toward the front of the rally.
The
memorial, which took place at the same time as a funeral for George
Floyd in Minneapolis, included praise and worship, and gospel music. “It
was one of the most authentic expressions of black culture that I have
seen during these protests,” Clennon said. In addition to Terrence
Floyd, several local politicians addressed the crowd. When Mayor Bill de
Blasio took the stage, boos nearly drowned out his brief remarks.
A young protester stands at the front of the crowd.
Clennon
lives in Harlem with his partner. In February, their first child, a
girl, was born. He said that becoming a father has made him think in a
new way about taking pictures. His photos of the current protests are
not just for the historical record: they’re images that he’ll be able to
show his daughter one day to explain what was happening in the world
during the beginning months of her life. Black people today, he said,
“are able to share our own stories in a way that our ancestors, even our
grandmothers, couldn’t.” He has been thinking about the coverage of
police brutality against protesters in Birmingham during the
civil-rights era—about those widely recognizable images of protesters
being sprayed with fire hoses—and about how those images are captured
from the perspective of someone standing on the outside. He said, “What
if they’d had the opportunity to give that first-person account?”
A man wears a Colin Kaepernick jersey.
A woman during Terrence Floyd’s speech.
Terrence Floyd (left), the brother of George Floyd, pauses during his speech.
A woman watches the memorial.
Flowers that were tousled by heavy foot traffic.
A man seen just after Terrence Floyd’s speech.
N.Y.P.D. officers monitor the crowd from the roof of the nearby courthouse.
A merchant sells protest pins.
N.Y.P.D. officers block the street leading to the Brooklyn Bridge.
A protester wearing a medical glove raises a fist.
The rally opened with a performance by a gospel choir.
Protesters walk past City Hall after crossing the Brooklyn Bridge.
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