My initial thoughts on the encounter. Posted on Feb. 12, 2025 to my personal TikTok @adriano_kalin.
As a social justice photographer documenting Chicago, it is my responsibility to document the entire city, not just the areas that get featured on postcards. On the afternoon of February 12, 2025, I set out to do just that. It was a snowy day and the harsh winds immediately slapped against my face. I didn’t know exactly where I was going, but I knew that I wanted to head further South. I headed toward the Green Line.
I arrived at the Green Line 47th Street station stop and decided to get off and just wander around. I traveled through back alleys, the main boulevard, and side streets without any rhyme or reason. I just went with my gut hoping that there would be something that would catch my artistic eye. I eventually reached the Garfield station stop, about a mile south of the 47th street stop.
The Garfield stop is the last station on the Green Line heading south that gives you the option to either head towards Cottage Grove or Ashland/63rd (Englewood). I decided to head towards Cottage Grove due to the fact that the train towards Ashland/63rd was running 23 minutes behind schedule.
Once in Cottage Grove, I was aware that I was an outsider. I was interested in documenting a neighborhood that is rarely photographed, but I was also cautious knowing that I didn’t know any landmarks that would give me a mental compass of what was north, south, east or west. I followed along 63rd Street and headed west towards the next CTA Green line stop, King Drive.
As a photographer, I am always conscious that I am carrying several thousand dollars of gear on my body. When I’m walking my feet also get sore and my ears do echo from the screeching sounds of oncoming trains racing 20 feet above my head. Despite this, I try to stay vigilant especially when walking through neighborhoods where there is more risk. On this day, my AirPods were out of my ears and my hoodie down. I carried my smaller FujiFilm camera rather than my larger GFX 100sii medium format to draw less attention to myself.
“Are You Police?”
There was no one around me when all of a sudden three men surrounded me, all taller than my 5’6”. One of them looked directly at me and asked, “Are you police?” It was 3:36 p.m. in the afternoon, more than an hour before dusk. This type of confrontation was a first in the nearly three years I had been walking the neighborhoods of Chicago, including the Southside. I instinctively adjusted my position, so that my back was facing the open street as opposed to the brick wall now on my right. I was acutely aware that my answer - and whether or not these men believed me - would determine what happened next.
Terms like gentrification, redlining and segregation are tossed about, but how often do we really think about what those conditions truly mean for the community? Does redlining mean that fewer trashcans are placed in Southside neighborhoods, so they end up appearing more neglected than their Northside counterparts? Does segregation mean that predominantly Black and Brown communities are destined to be food desserts and organic avocados are more likely to be a meme than a dream? One tell tale sign that a neighborhood is beyond the scope of what is deemed desirable by gentrifiers is if there are hardly any photographers willing to come and document the neighborhood and the culture. The three men who approached me did so because I stood out like a sore thumb, even as a Person of Color (POC). It was so uncommon to see someone with a camera around their neck that it was deemed suspicious by locals - even a threat.
Based on the stance and attentiveness of the three men sizing me up, I presumed they were members of a local gang. The one man’s question, “Are you police” echoed in my mind. I knew intuitively that this was a moment where I needed to stay calm.
“Nah, I’m a social justice photographer,” I said.
I could immediately tell that this was not the answer he was expecting. I explained that I was trying to take photos because representation of their neighborhood matters.
“That’s cool, just didn’t know if you were police,” he said.
I reassured him that I wasn’t and asked him if he wanted to see my work of documenting the city. He didn’t seem interested, but I insisted. I pulled up my Instagram account on my phone and showed him some of my photos. As he looked at the images his pupils grew bigger. “That’s fire.” With those words, I knew not only that he was impressed, but that I had his respect. He gave me a “pound” and told me to stay safe and that he loved my work. We parted ways.
I am well aware that this conversation could have escalated, but fortunately, it was a calm encounter. I don’t blame these guys for being skeptical of my presence. I’m not from their neighborhood. This interaction did, however, reinforce a principle of mutual respect that guides my work. If you respect the neighborhood, the neighborhood will respect you back. Once the guy who questioned me knew my intentions were valid and that I was respecting the “block” he let me go on my way.
As a documentary photographer working on the street, it’s important to know your camera inside and out so you don’t miss the “moment." Technical skills are important. But equally, if not more important, is the ability to control your emotions and stay calm and collected. It’s my responsibility to put the minds of those around me at ease by being transparent, honest and genuine about who I am and what I’m doing.
At the end of the day, I have yet to have a bad altercation doing this work and this is rooted in the respect I show for the communities I work in and with and the way they choose to embrace me.
Representation matters.
“If you respect the neighborhood, the neighborhood will respect you back.”
Great and gripping read. Your work is awesome 👏🏽
Such a great article and photos.