The Most Powerful, Least Used Narrative Tool: Humanizing Photos of Immigrants
Zeroing in on a point I made in an earlier Medium article, “Immigration Policy and Media Narratives are not a Blood Sport.”
To drive a more robust and accurate story about immigrants, pro-immigrant organizations need to “understand the impact of images on the media narrative. Reporters had free reign to run down to the southern border or into Mexico and take pictures of human misery. We didn’t provide enough visual alternatives, consistently, that show the humanity, heroism, dignity, intelligence, and bravery that exists among people who have been forced to move.”
In today’s news, primarily delivered via social media, many people barely read past a story’s headline and featured image. It is true that a picture tells 1,000 words. Images set a narrative equally, or sometimes more effectively, than written content.
Currently, members of the press and even some organizations primarily use images of law enforcement, immigrant arrests, and human misery to accompany immigration stories. DHS itself makes images and b-roll available for free on their website, and media organizations have made their own through trips to the border to capture migrants at some of the most difficult moments of their lives, rather than depicting their full humanity.
Those images, typically captured without the subjects’ consent, are reused in other media, even stories that have nothing to do with border policy, via internal and image licensing sites.
Who can forget the photograph of Mirard Joseph, a Haitian man being attacked by Border Patrol agents on horses while bringing bags of food back to his camp in Del Rio, Texas?
This photo went viral because it was disturbing, heartbreaking, and an exact summary of U.S. immigration policy in visual form. Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas called the image “horrifying” and said it does not “reflect who we are, who we aspire to be, or the integrity and values of our truly heroic personnel in the Department of Homeland Security.” But the photo didn’t lie, and that image is imprinted in more people’s brains than Mayorkas’ bureaucratic response.
The thing is, Mr. Joseph had no idea the photo was taken. The first time he saw it was back in Haiti, after he was deported in shackles alongside his partner and their child. When he saw the photo, he said, “I had tears in my eyes. It’s the worst humiliation I have endured in my life. The horse humiliation and the cuffs.”
Different minds can disagree on the ethics of capturing this image. But it’s clear it was effective in communicating the inhumanity of U.S. laws and agencies.
As we detail in this Ohio Immigrant Alliance video, the images that most frequently accompany immigration news stories often feed an “invasion” and “they’re all criminals” narrative, instead of depicting migrants as human beings.
Pro-immigrant organizations have access to far richer content about migrants’ experiences, including images of them living and working in community. If we truly want to change the narrative about immigration, we need to take visual content far more seriously, and provide high-quality alternatives to the images shown in the media today.
Some organizations, like CASA and CASA In Action, are leading the way. CASA and CASA In Action consistently hire photographers to cover their work in Maryland, Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Georgia. Their compelling photographs, available on Flickr, have been used in humanizing stories by the Washington Blade and Newsweek.
Here is an example of how OHIA used photos to successfully drive a narrative in an anti-deportation campaign.
Jesus Lara is the father of four U.S. citizen children from Willard, Ohio. After being stopped by the police due to a broken taillight, Jesus found himself facing deportation — permanent banishment from the family he loved, home he owned, and life he had built over two decades.
Ohio Immigrant Alliance designed a publicity campaign with a combination of national and local media pressure. Jesus’ children accompanied him on the public journey. We broke the story with a New York Times exclusive, and then fed the local media with a steady stream of content.
Our content showed Jesus as a father from Willard, Ohio, who does everyday, important things like taking care of his kids after school, working at the Pepperidge Farm factory, and going to church. The only thing that had changed in his life was that the United States got a new president, who decided to prioritize deporting people like Jesus, while previous administrations had allowed him to stay.
Photos were very important in our campaign. We shared images of Jesus with his children and hugging his brother, which were used by some media outlets. The Cleveland Plain Dealer published its own powerful images of the family playing basketball and sitting in front of their Willard home. These images made Jesus relatable to people he had not yet met.
In fact, while canvassing Jesus’ small town to gather signatures on a petition to stop his deportation, this Willard dad was on the cover of the local paper, lending credibility and energy to the petition drive.
The evening before Jesus Lara was deported, OHIA observed a focus group on immigration in a Cleveland, Ohio suburb. No one prompted the participants to talk about any individual person or immigration case. But multiple members of the focus group audience brought up Jesus’ story, which they heard about on the news. They referred to him as an “Ohio father.” These were core components of our strategy. Participants showed a desire for the situation to work out for Jesus and his children. That part, we had “won.”
But the next day, Jesus had to leave. A group of supporters rallied for him inside the Cleveland-Hopkins International Airport. His wife and four children were there, as were TV cameras. But no emergency “stay of deportation” came from the U.S. government.
Somehow, Jesus summoned the strength to walk away from his family and through that airport security line, an ankle monitor still strapped to his leg. It would only be removed when he arrived at the gate, to make sure he went through with the deportation. Jesus carried no luggage, just a folder of his most important physical possessions — his immigration paperwork — as he walked to the plane. “I came to this country with nothing, and that’s how I’m going to leave,” he said.
Jesus’ journey to Mexico was covered by Spanish language TV, which even sent a reporter to interview his mother in advance, and traveled with him on the plane. His was quite literally an international story. We didn’t stop Jesus’ deportation, but we did change some minds. And we raised $30,000 for his family, so they could pay their mortgage in Jesus’ absence.
For other examples of powerful imagery in action, see work by Greg Constantine and the Interfaith Immigration Coalition.
Constantine’s “7 DOORS” photo series offers a window into the detention and deportation experience that the media often ignores. It’s one of inhuman bars, barriers to staying connected with lawyers and loved ones. “They took one of my friends,” said Amber, an apartment complex manager interviewed by Constantine. View some of his work in OHIA’s sensory summary of “Broken Hope: Deportation and the Road Home,” as well as the project website.
In 2020, the Interfaith Immigration Coalition (IIC) organized an action protesting family separations. Photos captured by Getty Images have since been used in high-profile stories, such a Washington Post editorial on the need to release immigrants from detention during COVID-19; an article from ProPublica; three articles in DailyKos; and a story on MSNBC’s “All In With Chris Hayes.” Photos from another IIC action, celebrating DACA, were used in b-roll by MSNBC, as well as articles in the New Yorker and WNYC.
It’s clear that images are powerful carriers of message, and the constant stream of photos and b-roll depicting law enforcement actions in the media do not tell the whole story about the “immigrant experience.” Let’s challenge ourselves — as advocates, content-creators, and members of the press — to show a broader picture.
Watch this Ohio Immigrant Alliance video for more examples of the images we need to see less, and the humanizing portrayals we need more.
What iconic photo is seared in your brain? What message do you take from it? Let’s start a conversation in the comments.
