Kenwood Speaks Out

When I walked into Kenwood Academy in Hyde Park I couldn’t help but be struck by the incredible energy running through its halls, quite literally as sports teams were holding their practices inside on a stormy February afternoon. In my profession, I’ve been lucky enough to get to know people of all types of races, religions, government standing, and abilities.  Last summer I photographed students from North Lawndale College Prep working in the prairie fields of Joliet, Illinois, and days prior had been photographing at Collins Academy, another predominately African American high school. It didn’t even occur to me to feel uncomfortable or out of place as I walked up to security to sign in and ask for directions to the classroom where the team was practicing for the first round of bouts at Young Chicago Author’s Louder Than a Bomb, the largest youth poetry festival in the world.

The classroom was filled with some of the most vibrant high school students I had come across, even down to their socks.  As I circled around them during their practice I could hardly contain my excitement, this team was good, really good.  YCA had introduced me to their coach, recommending them as a team that had a good chance of winning LTAB this year.  Their pieces were fun, powerful, and from their own experiences with a heavy focus on growing up black in Chicago.  It wasn’t until their group piece entitled, “Open Season” that the color of my skin suddenly felt like a strobe light firing in a darkroom. I found myself almost hesitant to keep clicking my camera as if I was invading this incredibly personal space by documenting this powerful and well-choreographed piece about police violence against the young black community.

The premise of the piece was a tour of the city’s South and West sides as seen by the police, simultaneously answered by the sincerity of youth, unafraid to call out the brutality they face every day, “my crime, nigger, and their justification, a cell phone.”  Immediately I was with them, I understood what they were talking about.  When Eric Garner died at the hands of Staten Island police in 2014 you can hear him on the video telling them, “I can’t breathe,” I can still hear that voice.  Then the story of Sandra Bland, pulled over for a traffic stop in Texas in 2015, only 28 years old and died in jail, has been burrowing in my brain ever since.  And of course, here in Chicago, the Laquan McDonald case where our own city played hot potato, passing the blame from one person to the next, while we all watched the video of a teenager being shot to death while trying to walk away.

When the news of George Floyd’s death at the hand of the Minneapolis Police Department broke on May 25th, all I could think about were the students from Kenwood Academy.  This group of bright and shinning poets, many who just graduated and are preparing for college in the fall, should be able to feel the way I felt when I graduated high school, that feeling that the world is wide open with possibilities. As a woman, there’s always an additional layer of fear that we carry vs our male counterparts, but it doesn’t compare to carrying around a fear of those who are supposed to protect and serve. Almost thirty years after Rodney King and nothing in this arena has changed.

Due to the outbreak of COVID-19, Louder Than a Bomb had to suspend their competition and take the rest of the bouts online through YouTube Live. Kenwood emerged as the winner of Louder Than a Bomb and will go on to compete in Brave New Voices, a youth poetry festival open to the entire nation that is typically held in different major US cities every year, but this year will be taking place virtually in mid-July. Recently I reached out to Kenwood Academy’s head spoken word team coach to get the link to their group piece (click here) and I encourage everyone to watch the Kenwood spoken word team in action.  If you are moved, please share this with your community, there is nothing more powerful than hearing about police brutality through the voices of those who are directly affected.  On March 4th, the last day they performed in front of a live audience, this poem was extremely powerful and relevant.  Today, well, this poem is everything.