Our Account: A Ferguson Photo Journal

“I write to record what others erase when I speak, to rewrite the stories others have miswritten about me, about you.” — Gloria Anzaldúa

Photo by Mary Glen Fredrick 8/12/2014

Every time someone at school asks me about my city and its “chaos,” I ask them about their line of thinking: “What’s so chaotic about my city?” Most of them refer to the QuikTrip fire or the looting. I then reframe the conversation.

I explain that Ferguson became relevant and “chaotic” when Darren Wilson unconstitutionally killed Mike Brown, an unarmed teenager who was fleeing from him.

I then explain that when I was home, I felt like a crazy person. I felt like a crazy person because I was unable to reconcile the differences between what my eyes witnessed and what my television portrayed.

Each time I watched the news, the “coverage” was actually just a replay of looting and burning footage from the first eruption. The tear-gassing was not a result of civil unrest and violence “experienced” every night. Peaceful protestors were tear-gassed. Every night.

I felt like a crazy person because what I witnessed, what I experienced, wasn’t dictated on the news. What was the news talking about? Why were they lying?

Days before the news reported it, I stood in the street—facing tanks with headlights illuminating at maximum intensity. We couldn’t take pictures then because the lights were so bright. Officers stood facing us in tactile gear, military-grade weapons drawn. If we took a step within five yards of them, they would immediately raise their weapons—even with our hands above our hands.

Although the tear gas has since cleared, the peace surrounding the Black Lives Matter movement is becoming increasingly disturbed. But as we advocate, organize, and mobilize, we must also ensure the truthful telling of our stories—ensure that our accounts, our efforts, our momentum, and our progress is rightfully and validly portrayed.

There is much work to do.

“When an individual is protesting society’s refusal to acknowledge his dignity as a human being, his very act of protest confers dignity on him.” — Bayard Rustin

Photo by Derecka Purnell 8/10/2014

Michael Brown Jr. is the reason why my words are relevant. He is the reason why these photos are relevant.

I am from St. Louis. I was raised in the city, spent my summers in Ferguson, and lived half a mile away from where Michael Brown laid on the hot pavement for four hours. I went to college in Kansas City and was home visiting family just days before heading to law school. Michael was killed Saturday, August 9, 2014, and I was home by that following Monday. My husband Grandon, my mother-in-law, and I were watching the news when we saw images of police officers surrounding my old neighborhood. Ten minutes later, Grandon and I found a small back road into North County so we could head towards Ferguson. This road was blocked off by the police, as were the rest of the streets in about a six-mile radius. Despite this, the crowd continued to grow with curious and concerned residents.

“The challenge of social justice: to evoke a sense of community that we need to make our nation a better place, just as we make it a safer place.” — Marian Wright Edelman