I have spent my career documenting human rights battles across the globe. My latest body of work examines human rights questions much closer to home. In Pursuit of Freedom to illustrate what it’s like to travel along the U.S.-Mexico border — and elevates the humanity that’s often lost in polarized, politicized discussions about immigration, asylum and security.
Nearly a decade in the making, this project includes images of barriers along our sun-scorched southern border — a worn out shoe, discarded clothing, rusted can of food rations, walls, fences, steel and razor wire — contrasted with intimate depictions of families striving to navigate the divide. The pairing is intentional.
It feels like we most often look at the story of migration from a detention perspective here in the U.S. We’re not often looking at this story as a journey. We’re avoiding the moments and flashpoints that would bring us into the story. Taking that angle inspires a more human reaction and an ability to relate — maybe even a desire to help.
Most of the images in the exhibit would focus on individual faces, especially those of Central American refugees forced to wait on the Mexican side of the border as they apply for asylum to the United States. In one photograph, children in a temporary Tijuana shelter practice writing letters thanks to a classroom on wheels. In another, separated sisters hug during a three-minute visit at the border’s now-closed “Door of Hope.” And in another wooden crosses identify unmarked graves in the Terrace Park Cemetary, in Holtville, Calif., where hundreds of unknown migrants are buried — migrants who died on their journey northward.
