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Last month, reporter Anna Clark and I spoke about what motivated us to tell the story of Flint, Michigan residents, 10 years after the water crisis began, and how we are working to understand it. We hosted an in-person photo gallery and group discussion about motivations for speaking. The communities we serve. As a visual fellow at ProPublica, I focus on documenting the lives of the people in our stories through photography. Throughout history, photography has been a powerful tool for recording moments, providing visual evidence, and evoking emotions that encourage us to understand experiences other than our own. Here are some suggestions for aspiring visual storytellers who may find themselves in a similar situation.
Ask, “Why do I need to tell this story?”
Anna and I previously worked in Flint in various capacities. I was interning as a photojournalist at the Flint Journal. Anna wrote a book called “Poisonous City: Flint Water and the Tragedy of American Cities.” For us, Flint is more than just a news story, it is a complex place full of real people who have been and continue to be denied adequate resources and support. We wanted the public to know that generations of Flint residents continue to live with physical and psychological challenges. By sharing what Flint residents think accountability looks like, we can show how many people feel betrayed when no one is held criminally responsible. Ta. They are also frustrated by how long it is taking to repair local water systems and the emotional scars that may never be repaired.
This photo essay offers a glimpse into the experiences of three residents and how their current concerns, fears, and decisions are being shaped by the water crisis. For about four months, I made frequent trips to Flint, stopping at nonprofits, churches, after-school programs, and other places that are part of my daily life. I talked to some incredibly kind people. Some people wanted to help me. Others hesitated, usually because they wanted to move on or felt that things would never change. Robert McCassan, Teagan Medlin and Jaquin Reynolds have shown a lot of confidence in me. They were able to open up and make themselves vulnerable because of their commitment to fostering change for future generations. I tried to express this through the photographic environment.
First image: Tegan Medlin, 25, holds her newborn baby Audrina at the recovery facility where she temporarily lives. Second image: Pastor Robert McCassan approaches Taylor Armstrong, 9, and his grandmother, Patricia Stewart-Barton, while preaching during Sunday services at Joy Tabernacle Church.
Please approach with sincerity
During a discussion at a visual storytelling event held at Totem Books in Flint, we asked residents what types of stories resonate most with them and what questions they’d like someone to ask them. I asked them to think about who they wanted to interview. We discovered a common thread: we want to feel more connected as neighbors and fellow human beings.
We then reversed the exercise to challenge ourselves as journalists and take questions from residents. “Why Flint?” one participant asked us. We spoke to her about how we came to admire community and wanted to present readers with a multifaceted perspective of community. “Something about this place seems to be stained with people’s blood,” a participant told us. Indeed, Flint seems to have attracted a disproportionate number of storytellers for a city of its size—even before the water crisis. Still, some residents still wonder: What has changed? For the past decade, Flint residents have been in the public eye not of their own free will, but as a result of a protracted disaster caused by public officials. So what does that mean for us and our responsibility as storytellers?
Businesses that value transparency need to be transparent with the communities they document. Without transparency, it is difficult to build mutual trust, especially in communities that have faced betrayal and had little control over how they share their stories with the world.
In the early stages of the project, we spoke to Flint residents to learn their stories and let their stories take their course before we picked up the camera to take the photos. I also realized early on that I believed it was important to share their stories because people outside of Flint should know that for many Flint residents, the crisis is far from over. I emphasized.
Please also note that our stories go through multiple layers of revision and fact-checking. From start to finish, I try to convey how the project is developing and that the sources are aware of how the story will be assembled, how it will be depicted, and how it will be quoted. I have confirmed that. Once the article was published, I followed up with them to find out how they felt and let them know that their photos would later be featured in Flint’s Galley.
Jaquin Reynolds (left) and Robert McCassan, featured in ProPublica’s coverage, attend ProPublica’s live visual storytelling event. Credit: Rocio Ortega/ProPublica
Seeking connection and insight
The beauty of visual storytelling is that the story can always be transformed. Let go of all assumptions and let the story take you wherever it takes you. Anna and I have learned a lot by taking this approach.
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Ten years later, we find that many residents are still waiting for the changes they want. The resources and attention that Mr. Flint initially received dwindled. But one of the reasons I wanted to revisit this story is because of the people I’ve met and will continue to meet. The city has introduced me to people who care deeply about their communities and embrace each other with generosity, compassion, and compassion. They also learned about a variety of local programs, from the Flint Rx Kids program, which provides financial support to mothers, to the Mackenzie Patrice Croom Flint Community Water Lab, which trains young people to contribute and provides free water testing. . Communities like Flint don’t have to be resilient, but we can learn from their empathy, advocacy, and support for one another during difficult times. My job is to take pictures, but a big part of my fulfillment comes from making connections.
We wrapped up the event in Flint by taking photos of the attendees to keep as souvenirs. One woman who told me she had recently been forced from her home said she planned to email a photo of herself to her grandchildren who live in another state. It reminded me that photos are invaluable in many aspects of our lives. They keep us connected.
