Why must black pain be seen to be believed?

We have all seen images of dead brown bodies. Be it lynchings, police shootings, war scenes or Oxfam ads, we seem to be inundated with them at every opportunity. When I was first made aware of last week’s Kenyan massacre, my heart sank. As is sadly customary, I was able to find more information trawling through social media than on TV or in the newspapers. Most distressingly, the only articles I could find came complete with graphic images of the scene at Garissa. Why is it that the Western media – social or otherwise –  needs to see black pain for it to be believed?

There are several disturbing images of the Kenyan massacre circulating social media. 147 people are dead. Sharing images of their bodies like this is disrespectful and dehumanising. For some reason, we have become desensitised to seeing black and brown bodies in this way. We  should be able to recognise the innocence, vulnerability and humanity of these people, as well as the atrocity of the situation, without the need for shock value. We did not see such images after Sandy Hook, Charlie Hebdo or Lee Rigby. Black and brown bodies deserve the same amount of respect.

This is not an issue of censorship or a lack of Trigger Warnings. It is that black and brown bodies are being commodified and dehumanised in their death and are denied any respect or reverence that normally surrounds such sadness.

Black bodies have a history of being degraded and scrutinised. Victims of lynching were left out in the open for the public to see as a final act of disrespect, many with their genitals cut off and left in their mouths. In 19th Century America, enslaved black women’s bodies were experimented on, often without the help of anaesthetic. Human Zoos were popularised in 19th Century Europe involving exhibitions of Africans and Native Americans as entertainment. These were still frequented well into the 1950s.  That context cannot be ignored, particularly when there is a distinct difference in how the media handles events such as these when they involve a majority of white,Western victims.

I have been asked whether I feel that this supersedes the importance of potentially raising awareness about these issues. To that I say unequivocally: YES. It does.

Should images of the Germanwings plane crash last month have been shared to spread awareness about depression ? Of course not. It’s not even a thought. We did not need pictures when Lee Rigby was beheaded, as sensationalised as that tragedy was. Yet articles were still written and shared, people were still interested in following up the stories, and in the case of the plane crash there has been some “attempt” at addressing the taboo of mental health.

These images of course have some value in terms of archiving and education, just like the iconic images of the Holocaust and Phan Thi Kim Phuc. Without images of lynchings I am sure that the horrors of the Jim Crow South would be forever downplayed. However, Western media is not the place for this.

Had the Garissa University massacre happened at a British institution, we would not be shown ghastly images of piles of bodies. Instead, as with Sandy Hook, Hebdo etc. the bodies would have been removed to preserve the victims’ dignity before any cameras rolled in.

Such images only serve as a distraction. When images of the January Boko Haram massacre surfaced, people were talking more about the pictures than the actual event, not bothering to read the accompanying articles or do any of their own research. The only discussion being had was ‘did you see those horrible photos?’, rather than  ‘what can I do to help?’, or,  ‘how can I educate myself about how such horrors occurred?’  Yes, people were reacting and sharing and feeling. But as soon as the news cycle changed so did any thoughts about the victims.

It is actually dangerous and damaging for apathetic people to view these photographs. When images like this are shown, it subliminally reinforces the colonial garbage that Africans are either savages or victims. In this way, we continue to view them as ‘other’. The whole reason it seems to be ‘ok’ to view such images is because they’re happening to ‘somebody else’ and somewhere else. There is a distinct dichotomy between the images and one’s reality.

White People: if you see no problem with these images being shown, you need to check your privilege. You are able to mentally disconnect from what you are seeing. For many people of colour not only is it distressing to see people who look like you in that state, but it also reminds you of how little dignity people of colour are awarded both in life and with their death. When the video of Eric Garner surfaced my African American grandmother was distraught. As she watched the news, she kept repeating, “that could have been my son.” Eric Garner’s death was seen and shared by millions. Yet the video was still not enough evidence to bring him justice. This year, a spotlight has been shone on the institutional racism in the police force, yet every day I wake up to news stories like this. Everyone has seen Mike Brown lying in the middle of the street (against his family’s wishes might I add), and witnessed Tamir Rice’s last ten seconds, but nothing is changing. Despite all of the images we have liked and shared and cried over, they alone do not create change. Action does.

It cannot be denied that photographs are immeasurably more powerful than text. Regardless, images like these are more than likely shared for the number of ‘likes’ they receive than any desire to viscerally educate. The unfortunate reality is that we now live in a time where the majority of people are aware of what constitutes an act of terrorism. If people are unable to feel sorrow when they hear of such events without the aid of graphic images of dead brown bodies, we have a whole different problem on our hands.

An open source social media campaign has been started in an attempt to humanise the victims of the Garissa attack. This is how the victims should be remembered and honoured.  #147notjustanumber.