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When I was in middle school, Donald Trump was elected for his first term in office. I remember the morning after election day; my dad was talking about his upset over the results. As a twelve-year-old, I was fed up with the discourse already. I turned to my dad and said, “I know we don’t like him, but he’s the president now. There’s nothing we can do. Why can’t we just all accept it and move on?” I credit my parents for a lot of my formative experiences, but this moment shaped how I see the world so deeply that I believe it is the reason I am who I am. My dad explained that we can accept, but moving on is not something a lot of people can afford. If we do not continue to express our disagreement, we facilitate the weaponization of prejudice and ignorance that the Trump administration stands for.
This project is a photographic essay on free speech in America. In this country, we take great pride in our personal liberties as protected by the constitution, including the freedom of speech. Over the past four months, I have been documenting the different ways people exercise such rights here in New York City and Washington DC. I attended national protests, weekly gatherings, and found people standing solitary on street corners. This project explores a society that is grasping for any sense of control they can find in a tumultuous political climate as we navigate through unprecedented times.