ZEKE: Fall 2022 Preview

ZEKEFALL 2022 VOL.8/NO.2 $15 US 

THE MAGAZINE OF GLOBAL DOCUMENTARY 

PREVIEW: 

The America Issue 

Published by Social Documentary Network 

ZEKE FALL 2022/ 1

The 

AMERICA 

that in our industry and farms and schools 

and popular culture and the fine arts we 

have created. These achievements must 

be embraced while this nation also faces 

poverty, addiction, ignorance, and violence 

on a scale unknown in most of the 

developed world. 

As a nation, we are trying to find our 

center and regroup, rebuild, redefine 

our way finally into a new century that 

America. We endure because the was born on 9/11—an event that set 

land of the free and home of the brave us back a century, not because of what 

was an idea of its time, imperfect in its happened to us but because of how we 

exclusions, but a beacon for the modern 

world to embrace—a notion that The photographs on the next 46 

responded with hubris and arrogance. 

all people are endowed with inalienable pages give us a glimpse of who and 

rights. Inspiring as this concept may be, what we are today, what we must overcome, 

what we can achieve. Our current 

there has always been a heavy burden 

of detractors who never believed in the president is fond of saying that America 

ideal and only cherished their own privilege 

in this new land of opportunity. its mind to it. More important though in 

can achieve anything it wants if it puts 

Divided like this only once before, we reaching our potential is if we can agree 

are now walking a delicate path. 

on some basic principles and right now 

This is the America we seek to this nation is having a hard time doing 

describe in this issue of ZEKE. 

just that. 

While the term Black Lives Matter It is in this light that we are so proud 

was coined just nine years ago, there to present this body of work by 18 photographers 

on the theme of America. 

was always a deep sentiment of support 

for what it means. Yet the fact remained 

that Black lives did not matter to the vast 

majority of people who just went on in 

their (our) ways. 

There has always been a darker and 

visible underside to this nation as evidenced 

in the KKK, the American Nazi 

Party, anti-immigrant groups of all kinds, 

as well as a softer manifestation of racism 

and exclusion in local city councils, state 

legislatures, in our places of worship, and 

in the Supreme Court of the land. 

A nation founded in the idea of human 

potential was able to deliver and we see 

2 / ZEKE FALL 2022 

ISSUE 

Robin Fader 

Amber Bracken 

Cheryl L. Guerrero

Susan Ressler 

Kevin McKeon 

Anthony Karen 

Nick Gervin 


Childersburg, Talladega County, Ala. 

Sunshine turns soil in the Commons 

Community Workshop garden. 2020. 

As a response to national division and 

the COVID-19 pandemic, Sunshine 

and her husband created the Fearless 

Communities Initiative where they 

maintain a community garden, host 

trade days, and celebrate “solidarity 

and strength” while regularly vocalizing 

opposition to vaccines and promoting 

far-right conspiracy theories. 

What Has Been 

Will Be Again 

Jared Ragland 

From Indigenous genocide to 

slavery and secession, and 

from the fight for civil rights to 

the championing of MAGA ideology, 

the state of Alabama has 

stood at the nexus of American 

identity. Begun in fall 2020, the 

ongoing project, “What Has 

Been Will Be Again,” has led 

photographer Jared Ragland 

across historic colonial routes 

including the Old Federal Road 

and Hernando de Soto’s 1540 

expedition to bear witness to 

and connect with individuals 

and communities plagued by 

generational poverty, environmental 

exploitation, and social 

injustices. 

4 / ZEKE FALL 2022



In my “America” series, 

an ongoing project, I 

attempt to portray a 

cross-section of a country 

filled with overwhelming 

pride yet tinged with 

sadness and confusion. 

To me, the people I photograph 

are almost lost 

in their own fairy tale. I 

try to capture my subjects’ 

beauty and spirit, 

as well as the simplicity 

of their surroundings. 

After all, I have deep 

respect for them, for it is 

my fairy tale too, one that 

I strived to be a part of 

growing up in the Middle 

East. It reflects the 

movies I watched and 

yearned to be a part of … 

it is MY America. 

US of A Color 

Ghada Khunji 


In March 2020, I started working 

on a new personal project “COVID- 

19 in Black America.” From March 

until August 2020, I documented a 

group of Black doctors and nurses 

providing free COVID-19 tests in the 

Black communities of Philadelphia 

and surrounding areas. I am now 

creating environmental portraits of 

Black and brown-skinned people 

who have had first-hand experience 

with having COVID-19 and recovered, 

have lost family members who have 

died from the disease, have been 

mentally challenged by the year of 

being socially isolated, and finally 

Black and brown-skinned people who 

have figured out how to adjust to the 

challenge and made a new pathway. 

COVID-19 in Black America 

Raymond W Holman Jr 


Both of her parents spent time in the hospital after 

developing COVID-19, and her mother died from 

it. The entire family was in shock when she died, 

since she rarely experienced illness. The day we 

created this image, the intention was to also create 

images of her father, but because he was home still 

not feeling well, on oxygen and mourning the loss 

of his wife, I decided not to create those images. 


Lost: A Portrait of 

Addiction 

Virginia Allyn 


Addiction could be called a plague. It 

blights the land. It ravages lives. Flyers for 

the missing ask, “Have You Seen Me?” The 

toll it takes is devastating. lt is visible night 

and day. In Philadelphia, the poorest of our 

nation’s largest cities, the plague has worsened. 

It is more out of control now. Ten 

years ago, one man on Kensington Avenue 

remarked, “I would call this the suffering, 

the suffering. The only hope I see is that 

people get to Heaven when they die.” 

Top: She is transgender. “My aunt’s 

favorite movie was Pretty Woman. It 

portrayed such an amazing lifestyle. 

She gets picked up in the street and 

ends up with a handsome man and 

money and love. But it’s not true in 

real life ... I come to the realization 

sometimes that I’m never gonna 

make it out of here. That’s what 

frightens me ... I regret doing heroin, 

but I keep coming back to it ... I 

want to stay [here]. I can help so 

many people that are stuck like how 

I’m stuck.” 

Bottom: “I’m a registered nurse. I 

got radiation poisoning at work and 

lost my job ... Everybody’s here for a 

different reason.” She has been out 

here for two years. “The street got 

worse. It’s a horrible place. It’s ugly. 

It’s your worst nightmare. People are 

just killing people now for nothing. 

People forget that this is a neighborhood 

and people worked hard to 

live in it ... I sleep on the pavement. 

Wherever I pass out. I’ve been trying 

to get into a shelter, but they closed 

two shelters down here. I prostitute. 

I hate it. I’m scared all the time ... 

I’m either going to go to rehab or I’m 

going to die.” 


Arming 

Teachers 

in America 

Kate Way 


“I think it’s good to educate our kids in the 

same way....We’ve talked about it in our 

home, you know we have plans…I mean 

some people do fire drills. What happens 

if the smoke alarm goes off, where do you 

go? [My husband] and I have said what 

happens if an intruder comes in? [In one 

room of our house] we put in a steel door 

with a peephole. So we kind of have a safe 

room where we can go.” 

— Christin Forbes, suburban elementary 

school teacher and mother, attending day 

one of the FASTER training. 

This photo accompanies an essay 

that explores the highly controversial 

trend of K-12 schools arming 

teachers and other school staff 

in the United States. Since the 

Sandy Hook Elementary School 

massacre in 2012—and the 

more recent school shootings in 

Parkland, FL and Uvalde, TX—well 

over a dozen states have begun 

arming teachers. Shockingly, no 

one official federal or state body 

has been keeping count of how 

many schools across the nation 

have armed staff, and in many 

communities, even the parents 

and the general public remained 

uninformed. Often without public 

knowledge, there are teachers, 

administrators, custodians, 

nurses, and bus drivers carrying 

guns in America’s schools. This 

photograph was taken at an Ohio 

gun-training program designed 

for school staff in a community 

divided over arming its teachers. 


White Nationalism 

Anthony Karen 


Top: Charles (36), a Lieutenant 

in the NSM (National Socialist 

Movement), addresses the crowd 

shortly before a swastika lighting 

ceremony at the Hated and Proud 

concert, which was held on a 

small farm in America’s heartland, 

Iowa. 

While documenting an ongoing project on 

the Ku Klux Klan, I came in contact with 

several organizations within the White 

nationalist movement. I’ve had the unique 

opportunity to photograph many of these 

groups without restriction over the past 

thirteen years and I will continue to do so 

for the long-term. The following images are 

a look into their private and social lives. 

Middle: A Ku Klux Klan cross 

lighting ceremony and swastika 

lighting — according to Klan ideology, 

the fiery cross signifies the 

light of Christ and is also meant to 

bring spiritual truth to a world that 

is blinded by misinformation and 

darkness. 

Bottom: A female skinhead, 

known as a Skinbyrd. 


Sex Trafficking: 

An American Story 

Matilde Simas 


When people hear that someone 

was trafficked, it’s often 

assumed they were kidnapped 

and forced into labor against 

their will. Trafficking can be 

much more insidious. People 

are often exploited by someone 

they already know. 

In this photo documentary, 

we listen to the story of Cary 

Stuart, an American survivor 

of forced commercial sexual 

exploitation, who was lured 

into the world of trafficking by 

a romantic partner or “Romeo 

Pimp.” In the series, she 

reflects on her experience, the 

way it has impacted her mental 

state, and the ongoing challenges 

of working through drug 

addiction. Addiction to drugs 

can be both a vulnerability to 

trafficking, and a common tactic 

used by traffickers to make 

victims more compliant. 

While the prevalence of sex 

trafficking in the U.S. is still 

unknown, we do know that 

women, children, and men are 

being sold for sex against their 

will in all 50 states. In 2014, 

the Urban Institute studied the 

underground commercial sex 

economy in eight U.S. cities 

and estimated that this illicit 

activity generated between 

$39.9 million and $290 million in 

revenue depending on the city. 


Working Ohio 

Steve Cagan 


Clockwise starting above. 

Electrical maintenance worker 

Living in Cleveland, I’ve 

witnessed the dramatic 

decline of what was a 

major industrial center, 

where thousands of people 

worked in good-paying, 

secure jobs, creating, 

building, and producing 

through physical and mental 

strength. That is largely— 

but not entirely—gone. 

Today, the media talks 

about trying to recover jobs 

lost during the pandemic. 

Jobs lost between the 1970s 

and early 21st century aren’t 

even discussed any more. 

And those people who 

still work in Cleveland in 

union jobs—in what remains 

of our industry—are unseen 

and unappreciated by the 

media and the art world. 

We documentarians 

must present people not 

only as victims of social 

problems, but also as 

strong, creative, resistant— 

which in fact they are. 

Chicken plant workers 

Hotel housekeeper 

Ironworkers 


Good Earth 

Esha Chiocchio 

Good Earth celebrates New 

Mexican agrarians who are 

revitalizing land through 

regenerative practices—building 

soil, sequestering carbon, 

reducing toxins, and improving 

the health of people, 

plants and animals. 

To better understand the 

range of regenerative techniques 

being employed, 

podcast host Mary-Charlotte 

Domandi and photographer 

Esha Chiocchio used interviews 

and photography to 

document the techniques of 

Native American land managers, 

farmers, composters, 

ranchers, goat herders, 

orchardists, and soil scientists 

to improve the foundation 

of society: soil. This series 

provides a window into regenerative 

land stewardship and 

demonstrates how we can all 

play a role in rehabilitating the 

good earth. 


Above: Tommy Casados inspects the 

grass as he flood-irrigates one of his 

pastures at C4 Farms in Tierra Amarilla, 

New Mexico. Tommy grazes fewer 

cattle than his land could technically 

accommodate with the goal of growing 

an abundance of healthy, deeply 

rooted pasture. Such practices encourage 

the soil to absorb more carbon, 

thereby reducing greenhouse gases and 

increasing resilience to both flooding and 

drought. 

Above: Gordon Tooley hand cuts 

grasses to harvest the seeds and 

spread them to new areas of his 

orchard, Tooley’s Trees. Keeping 

the ground covered with diverse 

vegetation is an important aspect 

of creating a regenerative orchard 

that absorbs carbon and builds rich, 

biologically active soil. 

Left: Josh Bowman with his sons, 

Ephraim and Emerson, at their pecan 

farm in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Most 

pecan farmers in the region clear the 

floor beneath their trees of any vegetation. 

Consulting with soil scientist Dr. 

David C. Johnson, Josh has grown 

cover crops, used compost teas, and 

incorporated a flock of sheep into his soil 

management strategies to build organic 

matter and encourage a healthy microbiome. 

Josh and his sons have an evening 

practice of digging for earthworms, 

which have steadily increased as the soil 

has improved. 


Who 

“ 

WEARE 

Photography 

and the 

American 

Experience 

by Stephen Mayes 

The American Dream” has 

always been an aspirational 

phrase, founded on the 

promise of economic opportunity 

(think white picket-fenced 

homes) and an idea that all people 

who live here are free and equal. For 

over a hundred years, photography 

has tried to document this ideal: showing 

who we are, demonstrating our 

achievements, marking our failures and 

inspiring our hopes, making 

visible for all to see 

across divisions of geography, 

class and political 

persuasion. But, today in 

the 21st century, the meaning 

of the American Dream 

has been obfuscated, 

reduced to hollow political 

messaging from both sides 

of the aisle, making it even harder to 

have a clear picture of what America 

really is and what it looks like. 

In the 20th century, America was a 

story told with the simplicity of single 

images in an age when the nation’s 

eyes could be focused collectively and 

simultaneously on one front page, 

a national story that was led by the 

unified drum beat of mass media that 

drove the news agenda. 

One story followed another in a 

more or less choreographed progression 

as the media gathered itself 

around each new issue and gave it 

shape in the public eye. This was the 

age of the iconic image, when a single 

photograph would find itself exposed 

to everyone at the same moment, and 

in feeling the moment, the viewers 

would imbue meaning in the image 

beyond the simple facts represented. 

This was America. 

Now, as we look back, some of 

these images have withstood time and 

still stand as symbols of the national 

will for progress, the celebration of 

achievement as well as moments of 

unified national despair. A migrant 

mother, the raising of the flag at Iwo 

Jima, a Saigon street execution, a 

video grab of a Black motorist being 

assaulted by a group of LA police 

officers and a flag raising at Ground 

Zero. Each of these widely known 

images evokes not just an American 

story but also conjures a host of references 

and associated emotions representing 

the spirit of the times. While 

speaking truths there is also a danger 

that such icons compress the narrative 

too much, simplifying complex stories 

and reducing the rich weave of history 

to clichés, assumptions and stereotypes. 

For a nation that’s still less than 

250 years old, one could think of 20th 

century America as still an adolescent 

culture, disguising its insecurities in 

consistent dress codes: the U.S. flag 

was (and still is) everywhere, marking 

everything and everybody as members 

of a new and strong nation. In this 

context the iconic images were appropriately 

powerful and told a simplified 

Right: Migrant Mother by Dorothea Lange. 

Florence Thompson, 32, a pea picker and 

mother of seven children. Nipomo, CA. 

1936. Farm Security Administration— 

Office of War Information Photograph 

Collection, Library of Congress. 

Susan Ressler 

48 / ZEKE SPRING 2022


Elyse Blennerhassett 

Interview 

DONNA FERRATO 

Donna Ferrato, an internationally acclaimed and 

award-winning photojournalist, is known for her 

groundbreaking documentation of the hidden 

world of domestic violence, an issue she spent 

years photographing. These images were published 

in her seminal book Living With the Enemy 

(Aperture, 1991) which, alongside worldwide 

exhibitions and lectures, sparked an international 

discussion on sexual violence and women’s rights. 

A longtime activist, in 2014 Ferrato launched the 

I Am Unbeatable campaign to expose, document, 

and prevent domestic violence against women 

and children through real stories of real people. In 

her new award-winning book, Holy, published in 

2020 by powerHouse Books, Ferrato repurposes 

her images, that combined with handwritten text, 

proclaim the sacredness of women’s rights and 

their power to be masters of their own destiny. For 

more information, see www.donnaferrato.com 

By Michelle Bogre 

Michelle Bogre interviewed Donna Ferrato 

at her Tribeca loft on July 29, 2022. 

Michelle Bogre: When did you realize 

you were an activist photographer, not 

just a photojournalist? 

Donna Ferrato: In 1993. I was in 

Bruce, Mississippi covering the funeral of 

seven children who were burned alive in 

a house fire because there were bars on 

the windows that locked from outside the 

house. The family—children and grandmother— 

were trapped inside, as if in a 

prison. No magazines were interested so 

I went on my own. As soon as I arrived, 

I saw people gathered around someone 

who had collapsed. Women in white 

dresses surrounded her. I figured it was 

the mother who was incarcerated but 

received a day pass to attend the funerals 

of her mother and her seven children. I got 

down on my knees and crawled between 

women’s legs to get the picture of a mother 

with a broken heart. Nobody tried to stop 

me. Sometimes I feel invisible. Perhaps 

people didn’t stop me because they could 

see at that moment I was upset, having 

trouble focusing through my tears. People 

saw I was not dispassionate. 

My activism evolved trying to make 

sense of that story. I saw what I had to 

do—investigate as well as photograph 

and find ways to publish stories about 

the crimes against women, domestic 

violence, and criminalized survivors of 

domestic violence. 

MB: Crawling between someone’s legs 

to get a picture seems a bit aggressive. 

DF: I don’t think people realize how 

invasive I am. To get a photograph, I will 

go to hell and back. It was hard to get 

access to battered women’s shelters when 

they were completely off-limits to the 

press. I had to get inside to convince the 

shelter directors, the residents, the police, 

the prison superintendents, hospital 

administrators, even the violent abusers 

being arrested. I lived it with people, 

whatever they were going through, even 

in prison or in their homes. 

MB: Was the story published? 

DF: Yes. I took a set of photographs 

to People magazine. The editors were 

interested and sent me back with a 

great writer, Bill Shaw. We met with the 

landlord, Mr. Chandler. While Bill was 

interviewing him, I had a chance to get 

the proof that Chandler was responsible 

for their deaths. He could have saved the 

family because he had the keys to the 

bars on the window. I saw the photo: he 

was lying on a couch under a window 

where the ring full of keys was hanging. 

Click. One Sunday at church, I spoke 

to the congregation. I told them I didn’t 

believe that God called the children to 

Heaven; it was human negligence. I 

suggested they form a committee, attend 

monthly town meetings, and see what the 

fire codes were. I wanted them to understand 

that they had rights and the more 

they knew, the better chance they had 

to change the law—maybe outlaw those 

dangerous metal bars that killed people. 

The committee was led by one armed 

woman, Minnie, the deceased children’s 

aunt. They eventually changed the law in 

Jackson, Mississippi and when I saw how 

successful they were, I decided I would 

never be a quiet photographer. From that 

point, I’ve always spoken my truth to the 

people I photographed. 

MB: How can you be so invasive, to use 

your word, and still get intimate photographs? 

DF: People may see some madness in 

how I do what I do so they don’t stop me. 

I don’t care how strange I look. I’ll crawl 

on my belly. It’s about being there. My 

size works in my favor. I am small, agile, 

and fast. Most of the time, I prefer being 

lower than the people I’m photographing. 

I don’t ever want people to feel like I am 

towering over them. 

MB: That’s visible in your pictures. You 

bring the viewer into what feels like an 

intimate moment. 

DF: When I teach, I try to help photographers 

see that they don’t have to stand 

in a corner to be unobtrusive. Often 

the view is right in front of our eyes. 

Wherever the photographer stands it’s 

important to be in the moment, to absorb 

everything, sorrow, pain, anger, love. Let 

emotion enter the images through us. 

MB: You use a 35 mm or wider lens? 

Leica rangefinder? 

DF: I use a Leica M10. Leica has been 

my weapon of choice since 1976 when 

I had a Leica M4. Most often I work 

with a 35 mm lens. It’s one camera, one 

lens, one woman. I am never without my 

camera. 

MB: Never? 

DF: Why in the world would I go 

anywhere without my beloved camera? 

The camera is me. Photography is a 

calling. Often, we have no choice. As a 

young woman, I realized that I had an 

instinct to frame and extract what matters 

from that moment, the good, the bad, the 

ugly. I would lose my mind if I couldn’t 

photograph. 

MB: You do have an extraordinary 

instinct for the perfect moment. One of 

the images in your book, Holy, titled 

Diamond, Minneapolis, is almost perfect. 


The eight-year-old boy called 9-1-1 to report his father. When the police arrived to arrest his father, Diamond 

said, “I hate you for hitting my mother. Don’t come back to this house.” This photograph was awarded one of the 

most influential 50 photographs. © 1987 Donna Ferrato/ LIFE Magazine 

You captured the moment when the boy is 

shaking his finger at his father, and there 

are three cops, and the battered women’s 

face is framed in a “V” between two of the 

cops, the television is on, but the perfection 

is the White cop’s hand in the Black 

man’s pocket. 

DF: White and Black…mmm, yes, well, 

when I entered the house tagging behind 

the cops that morning, it was early, and 

the curtains were drawn. Everything 

happened fast, hard core drama. I had a 

flash, and was fumbling trying to get it on 

the camera, to bounce it off the ceiling. 

As the cops brought the father into the 

living room, I was ready but every time 

the flash popped I couldn’t see what was 

happening. I heard what the boy was 

saying because I was next to him. The 

police were going through the father’s 

pockets, to make sure there were no 

weapons. The boy was angry with his 

dad, he was angry with everyone. Later, 

when the film was developed I saw it was 

the picture as I imagined it would be. But 

honestly, it’s all instinct. It’s Jedi Warrior 

photography. But I didn’t have a signed 

release. I went back a month later to meet 

the parents and they signed a release, 

which was necessary to be published in 

LIFE Magazine. 

DF: There is no detachment. Injustice is 

always gut-wrenching. A photographer 

sees right through everything. We have 

to get the best photograph whatever happens, 

but it’s complicated. I can’t say that 

I don’t absorb their feelings, but clearly, 

I don’t suffer the consequences like the 

people in the photographs. Some of the 

people were thankful that I was there. 

Not everybody. Many people would 

like to forget these things happened. 

Photographs make it hard to forget. I 

too become trapped in the frame of that 

moment. We all suffer from collective 

trauma. Every time I relive these incidents, 

I relive them and become anxious, 

depressed, especially now as things are 

worse than ever. Domestic violence is 

more difficult to predict, to contain, to 

prevent. My purpose now as a human 

being is to keep these photographs in the 

forefront of human consciousness, as an 

activist and a witness 

MB: What is your new project, Wall of 

Silence? 

DF: The Wall of Silence was my response 

to an open call from the NYC Mayor’s 

Office to end gender-based violence, a 

chance to create art that would inspire 

activism about the criminalization of survivors 

of gender-based violence. My idea 

was to build a prison wall with a stainless 

steel mirror, to create a portal by which 

people would see themselves and hopefully 

relate to the horror of being unjustly 

incarcerated. I chose the Collect Pond 

Park in lower Manhattan as the location 

because of its proximity to the criminal 

and family courthouses, where too often 

survivors —especially Black,Brown, and 

LGBTQIA+ people—lose their rights 

because they defended themselves and 

their children. On the day we unveiled it 

in the park, a survivor, Tracy McCarter, 

currently facing incarceration, appeared 

almost as if she was transported through 

the Wall of Silence. The project brought 

Tracy into my life and now I am working 

on telling her story as it unfolds in one 

of the courthouses facing the sculpture. 

Through this project, I hope to not only 

educate society, but to be a witness and 

put pressure on the court system to feel 

compassion for survivors of gender-based 

violence. I am using the installation to 

disrupt the silence by engaging the public 

and the media to support Tracy’s case. Her 

story is another example of how society 

and the courts are stripping women of 

their rights: their reproductive rights, their 

rights to bodily autonomy, to the basic 

human right of self-defense, and their right 

to the pursuit of happiness to live as free 

and equal human beings. 

MB: In the profession we talk about 

secondary trauma. You’ve seen a conflict, 

violence and injustice. How do you 

absorb the violence or does the camera 

provide detachment? 

Mississippi Fire, 1993. Ether Ree Hall Gaston, mother of six of the dead children, collapses in the gymnasium 

where the funeral is being held. Doing time for drug trafficking, she was let out of prison for the day. 

©1993 Donna Ferrato

ZEKE: Fall 2022 Preview

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