The final judgment in Roe v Wade was handed down nearly four years after “Jane Roe” fell pregnant. The African-American Civil Rights Movement spent fourteen very active and costly years fighting for equal and fair treatment. Legislation preventing the next Matthew Shepard hate crime and ensuring equal pay to future Lilly Ledbetters took eleven years to get passed. Sixteen years after the Defense Of Marriage Act first became law we are finally seeing its undoing and the release of a new wave of liberties and equalities, but even after all that time it’s still not fully decided or undone. Continue reading
Hell’s Kitchen was more left desolated than devastated by Hurricane Sandy. The streets were beautiful in their eeriness.See more pics of Sandy streets…
Richard Silver is a NY-based photographer (he lives in Brooklyn. Go Brooklyn!) who I recently stumbled upon. I think he has a remarkable eye and his work shows us familiar scenes in a way that disorientates (in a good way). Don’t these images make your neck want to twist back on itself in anticipatory contortions? Scroll down within the frame below to see these awesome photographs in all of their glory and click here to go to the actual external site. His personal site–and more amazing photographs–can be found here.
There are drums. In the distance. The beats join the music in a happy union. I can sense smiling. And a twirl of tulle-ed skirts and can-can costumes. I walk closer, unable to keep myself away. Someone takes my bicycle from me. “Don’t worry, it’s safe here.” The tarred road quickly becomes gravel as I walk further off today’s route. That’s okay. It is safe here. The music gets louder and as I round a corner; a red flash. Then more red, and a torso. First just smiling and shaking and rhythmically undulating. Then a louder flash of music. And the drums again. Always the drums as I walk into what feels like an African tribal ritual of stomps and starts. I walk through the beat. People start writhing around me. More red. Beautiful red that makes me smile. Smile because everything red is a dress and only some of the dresses are women. That feels strange out here in the raw country, where cows stare and butter is churned instead of manufactured. But it feels like home. I walk in deeper. Continue reading