I just got back from the southwest region of DR, specifically Azua and San Juan, doing “survey” for this summer’s AMIGOS program in the island (http://amigoslink.org/project/dominican-republic-san-juan). Along with the Plan International (AMIGOS’s partner agency here) officials, I visited approximately 8 communities in San Juan and about 10 in Azua. In some of them, we stopped, met active youth and involved community members, and talked about previous and future AMIGOS experiences.
All of the communities were quite poor. I took pictures of the different places we visited for my report, but to be honest, they all looked the same after a while: narrow unpaved roads edged by intercalated [once] brightly colored wooden houses and brown (less pretty) houses of similar architecture. They all had either zinc or thatched roofs, with a little space in the front for sitting under the shade of a tree during the hottest hours of the day. There was also the occasional (and random) castle-like construction, which usually belonged to someone from the community who had managed to move to Spain, New York, or Puerto Rico.
As I mentioned, I had to take pictures throughout this trip for my survey report. At first, I was a little shy. It didn’t feel OK to take pictures of places and people without permission, so I tried to do it when no one was looking (perhaps not the most ethical approach). The more I saw, the more I got into it- it just felt as if the whole place was a set: everyone looking so natural, going about their business in this perfectly still and picturesque rural area: carrying plantains, working in the field… looking poor, and so perfect for a post card, an NGO brochure, a Ministry of Culture newsletter, a political campaign poster, and so on.
One of the places I visited was the house of a young man who had volunteered nationally last summer, and was looking to volunteer abroad this time around. We chatted under a tree outside his house, and were accompanied by his neighbors: three cute little boys, with dusty faces, dirty clothes, and no shoes. There was that feeling again: I must capture this image! I asked politely if I could take a picture of them, and they excitedly said yes. As I got ready to take the picture, their mother yelled from inside the house: “Wait, they are dirty and have no shoes on!” Then the cab driver said, “let her take it, it’s the reality we live in.”
The mother was completely right. How many of us are usually looking sexy when hanging around the house on totally normal days? Even on not such regular days, are we always ready and willing to take a picture that could potentially be posted on Facebook, much less a brochure of some kind? NO. We take time, we get ready, and we try to look our best. Then, why must these “at risk” people look dirty and raggedy in ALL our photos?
Travelers, let’s take a step back, think about their perspective, and give our subjects a minute to look their best. I understand that it is sometimes necessary, but not every picture has to be a “Feed my Starving Children” pose. Regardless of background and socioeconomic standing, we all want, and should, look our best for the world.
Btw. I took the picture anyway.
