Southern Rites • A conversation with Gillian Laub

One of the most recurring questions related to the photographic medium is: can photography really change the world and bring about a shift in the political and social realm? Well, there are cases when this happened, and photography served as a real catalyst of change. One of them is the project Southern Rites by American photographer Gillian Laub, who has spent the last two decades investigating political conflicts, exploring family relationships, and challenging assumptions about cultural identity.

In 2009, a few months after Barack Obama’s first inauguration, Laub’s photographs of segregated proms in Mount Vernon, Georgia, were published in The New York Times Magazine. The story brought national attention to the town and the following year the proms were finally integrated, starting a process of inclusion and awareness.

But let's take a step back. Laub arrived at Mount Vernon in 2002, for a magazine assignment. She had been commissioned to document the lives of teenagers in the American South. The town, nestled among fields of Vidalia onions, symbolized the archetype of pastoral, small town American life. During her stay, she met warm, polite and protective neighbors, but at the same time she learned that the joyful adolescent rites of passage celebrated in this rural countryside — high school homecomings and proms — were still racially segregated.

Over the following decade, Laub kept on photographing Mount Vernon, despite the growing — and eventually violent — resistance from community members and local law enforcement. Her photographs documented a town held hostage by the racial tensions and inequities that scar much of the nation's history.
After the publication of her photo essay in The New York Times Magazine, things seemed to be getting better until, in early 2011, tragedy struck the town. Justin Patterson, a twenty-two-year-old unarmed African American man was shot and killed by a sixty-two-year-old white man.
Since then, Laub’s project, which began as an exploration of segregated high school rituals, evolved into an urgent mandate to confront the painful realities of discrimination and structural racism.

Photographs shot by Laub uncover a complex story about adolescence, race, the legacy of slavery, and now, in the light of the Black Lives Matter movement unfolding across the United States, are even more powerful and touching, underlining the deeply rooted practice of segregation in the American South.

Until December 12, this rich and multi-layered project is on show at The Center for Art, Design and Visual Culture, Baltimore. In the exhibition curated by Chief Curator and Research Professor Maurice Berger — who tragically passed away in March — the moving imagery and multiple voices documenting the ongoing legacy of racism and bigotry found in Southern Rites underscore how much work still needs to be accomplished to bring the American citizens and country together.

We talked with the photographer and visual activist Gillian Laub to learn more.


Let's start from the beginning. After your first experience there, why did you continue to photograph Montgomery County? What prompted you to do so?
I was haunted by what I witnessed in 2002. I couldn’t sleep at night knowing there was such injustice happening in America. I couldn’t not do something. That is why I kept returning over and over, year after year I needed to investigate, understand, and spend time in the community. I think the deepest understanding comes out of long-time commitments to the work. I don't feel comfortable doing it any other way. Most of my projects take several years to unfold.

Proms are a unique feature of American culture, they’re a specific point of view to investigate American society and this is very interesting. What have you learned by observing this phenomenon?
Prom is such a major American rite of passage. It is a critical turning point in young adult lives where they are forging their own paths. I love the pageantry and ritual of prom. I love that no matter where you go in the country, there is a universality to the teenage experience. That is why it was so deeply disturbing to me that a community was fighting so hard to separate friends on this auspicious night by race. These kids all grew up together since the kindergarten and on this one-night students who are graduating together can’t dance and celebrate together? As I learned, Montgomery County wasn’t an anomaly. There were many other schools in the American south that were practicing this.

Which are the differences between the teenagers you photographed in 2002 and today’s generation? Have you met any of them again?
I think the biggest difference between photographing teenagers in 2002 and today is the impact social media has played on their lives. In 2002 nobody had smartphones. The students weren’t as conscious of the camera because they didn’t all have them back then.
Now the students in general feel more aware and maybe that is due to social media and the self-consciousness of every teenager now curating their own image and profiles. Racially mixed couples and queer teenagers seem much prouder and more open with how they identify which is wonderful and gives me a lot of hope for this generation. There isn’t as much hiding and shame. 
I’ve kept in touch with a lot of the students I photographed back in 2002. I just attended Keyke’s wedding who I met in 2002 and whose prom I photographed in 2008.

What has changed in Montgomery County compared to the first time you’ve been there?
When I first visited Montgomery County it was rare to see a biracial couple walking in the street. If you were a bi-racial couple you were mostly scared to be together in public. Now there are mixed couples and families everywhere. It seems like a superficial observation, but I do think it reflects some progress.

How did the murder of Justin Patterson shift the perspective of your project?
Justin’s death changed everything. The issues became a matter of life and death, but you realize that this death is very connected to the set of circumstances that would allow a segregated prom to happen. The community became once again divided and the systemic racism really played out through this case.

Given your experience, can photography properly illustrate such a vast and complicated issue as racism?
I think with anything, it’s all about how you do it. Although I do wholeheartedly believe in the power of storytelling through photographs in this case it’s clear that the photographs alone couldn't convey this complicated story of systemic racism. I had no idea how to make a film, but out of necessity to do justice to this story, I had to make the film. The photographs in the exhibition and book are intended to be viewed together with the oral stories. Each person gives their own testimony and that is just as important to this work as the photographs. The exhibition stays current as I have new interviews with all the subjects as time passes.

The visual narrative of racism has undergone many changes over time: from news reports to long-term projects. Today, however, most of the documentation takes place on social media. What do you think about it? 
Thank goodness for smartphones and social media. There have been atrocities happening forever, but they weren’t so easily recorded, so we didn’t have evidence. We will never ever be able to unsee the video of George Floyd. And that is all due to citizen journalism and social media.  People are now being held accountable in ways that weren’t possible before and that is because these images are accessible to the public.

In your opinion, what can documentary photographers learn from social media and citizen journalism?
I think the immediacy and the rawness of citizen journalism is very powerful. It also reinforces the importance of visual documentation and evidence in general. Social media and citizen journalism have become the new spot news. But you can’t compare spot news to in-depth nuanced storytelling. They serve two different purposes. Both important. 

The traveling exhibition, organized by the International Center for Photography (ICP), will continue to travel for the next five years. How has it been so far?
It’s been amazing to see how it has created opportunities in each city to have conversations and examine how racism operates in their own communities.
It’s more important than ever for us to really be conscious about how racism operates all over our country if we want change to happen. It’s been so fulfilling to see how the exhibition becomes part of school curriculum while it’s being shown at the different institutions. That reaffirms how art has the ability to educate. 

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