On
a sweltering July afternoon nearby Dudley Square in Boston’s Roxbury
neighborhood, I was instinctively out of my element upon entering an area
packed with graffiti murals, dilapidating buildings and squad cars. My presence
was something of a wonderment to the throngs of African Americans surrounding
me. My fair complexion made me stand out like a florescent billboard in the
middle of Times Square in an area locals dub by “The Hood.” I was on
assignment in the neighborhood to find-out more about a local non-profit organization.
As I took-out my camera, many became more skeptical of my presence, as if I was
cop trying to report people for their daily interactions. Then a kind man pulled me
aside and suggested I put away my camera for my own safety. This made me
question if pursuing my project further was worthwhile.
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