Go down there, up there, in there, with them -- with them, not just existing near them but in partnership with them -- and they won't take kindly to it.
They will treat you like you are trying to take their identity from them -- because you are. You are trying to take their identity from them, hijack the social order and ensure that the lives they and their ancestors have fought to preserve are permanently disrupted.
They don't take too kindly to the insult of having you show up proclaiming like some virginal, perfect truth that you deserve to be treated like they would treat family.
You're not family.
And if you can't take the polite hint of being ignored or treated like something less than their family, they'll give you a warning or two, and then they'll get right unhappy with you.
For him.
The images of the civil rights era.
Perfectly innocent-looking phrase. The images -- the pictures -- of a time devoted to people's rights. Devoted to making things better.
Making things better. That's a nice phrase there. So what we have is pictures of making things better. Nice and peaceful-like. Genteel. The sort of thing you could read while drinking sipping whiskey.
(Image courtesy here)
There, that's nice. A nice picture to look at while we sip our whiskey.
The trouble with words is that anyone can use them for any purpose. Invent things. Talk about how uppity the coloreds are. Invent a convenient reality and stick to it.
(From here)
It's more difficult to invent images like that.
(here)
Like that.
(here)
Charles Moore was not the only person photographing the civil rights era, but his is one of many names that appear to be outside the upper echelon of names mentioned when the era, its struggle, our continuing struggle comes up.
We will, to our great misfortune, never have that complete list of names, which begin in the 18th century and will likely be piling up after we are all gone, but we can make sure those names we do get, whenever we happen to get them, are maintained and the lives behind the names appreciated.
His photographs show a willingness to get into the heart of the action by using a short lens – whether it is protesters being attacked by police dogs or, famously, being tear-gassed by state troopers in Selma in 1965.
The post mortes tell me what the story I read on Moore yesterday suggested: Moore was known by plenty of people.
Good.
But not enough.
It is expected that people in the struggling demographic will fight for their rights. It is expected that people in that demographic will struggle, will speak out, will be ridiculed, will be attacked, will be punished.
Charles Moore was white. So was this guy. (This white guy is a little more known.)
And as straight allies are valued today by the gay community -- there are only so many of us who can be fabulous at the same time, after all -- I cannot imagine but that the white allies the civil rights movement had were indispensable.
Anyone can dismiss someone from the demographic in question. The gay person, the black person, the woman, the person with a disability is just angry, just upset, just energized over some trivial slight, something that wouldn't matter to someone else, to someone not part of that demographic's offenderati.
It's a different issue, though, when someone who doesn't look the part is playing it with all the sincerity of the black person or the Jew or the deaf person who wants equality to be more than a slogan.
People say justice is blind becauseif it weren't, it probably would have taken those ugly robes back for store credit a while ago. Also, changed its hair. it takes those groups of people society is busily determinedly caring about and makes them the news of the day, the thing that won't go away until everyone else gets with the program.
Wasn't justice paying attention? It isn't those people's time yet.
Justice picks a time, grabs a bunch of people and gets it done. Stand in its way and you'll be left behind, suddenly awkward, sticking out like a doorknob on a fresco.