photography is not a crime
The below reminds me of an incident a couple of weekends ago that I’d meant to blog about. Now that I live in Gowanus, I spend a lot of time taking photos of my surroundings. Brownstone Brooklyn is all very beautiful, of course, but my camera finds something more compelling in these strange, half-industrial streets around the canal. Anyway, the other weekend I was wandering around the vicinity of the Smith and 9th Street subway station with my camera, shooting derelict factory chimneys and canalside lots and the studded black tangle of the scaffolding beneath the subway (for non-New Yorkers: the F train in Brooklyn runs briefly on an elevated track, rising out of Carroll Gardens to pass above the canal before descending again into Park Slope).
The Smith and 9th stop is the highest point in the whole subway system, and itself an excellent vantage point for photography. But there’s also something beautiful about the structure of the tracks and their buttresses, seen from below. (Once, walking in the vicinity, Teju proclaimed it the architectural equivalent of a Jean-Paul Gaultier design.) So anyway, after snapping away at a bent Stop sign and a rusty chain-link fence, I lowered my camera to cross the street, and that’s when the patrol car pulled up and the cop in the passenger seat yelled at me to come over.
He asks, in what I can only describe as a confrontational tone, what I'm doing. Taking pictures, I tell him. Of the neighborhood, the buildings, the station, stuff. I live here, in Gowanus; I like photography.
You can’t do that, he says. It’s not allowed.
Why not, I asked. By this time, I knew perfectly well what was going on, but I wanted to hear him say it, to get the full measure of the absurdity of this exchange.
He says: “Terrarists.” Full stop.
And then he glares at me, and demands my ID. “Terrarists” would do that, he elaborates. The bizarre episode of security theatre lasted another five minutes or so, during which he threatened me with a summons (!) and harassed me for not having a NY state ID.*
It took every bit of my self control to not resort to what my granny would call “backtalk”, especially as I knew he was bullshitting me about the ID (there’s no requirement to have or carry one) and suspected, correctly, he was lying about the photography issue as well. My anger was exacerbated by the strong suspicion that were my gender and skin tone other than they are, I might have been in cuffs in the back of that car already. If he’d tried to take the camera or erase photos, I’d have insisted upon going to the station. But after taking down all the info on my ID, and bullying me a bit more, they drove off.
In retrospect, I’m furious with myself for not getting their badge numbers, so I could file a complaint. The cop lied to me about the law: despite initial efforts to ban photography in the subway system, it remains perfectly legal. Googling in the aftermath, I found this photographer’s rights flyer; I have printed it out and will be carrying it with me in case of future encounters with powertripping assholes and/or confused MTA staff.
In a silly sense, it feels like I’ve just earned some amateur photography merit badge, given the number of people I know who’ve been stopped, hassled, and even arrested for taking photos in public places. (like Nura, for being in the tunnels to shoot this amazing series; or Anand, who got hauled in by the Delhi police once for taking photos in Connaught Place). In a number of places I’ve traveled, it’s illegal to photograph bridges, railway stations, etc (this is true in India, for example—another charming hangover of the colonial legal code, I believe!—as well as in much more undemocratic places). I’m used to exercising caution about what I’d photograph in Burma or Syria, and even Thailand or Turkey. But it annoys the hell out of me that it's so common here, where the law is on our side--in theory.
*I handed them my old, just-expired Washington one; I don’t have a drivers license, and usually use my passport when needed. In retrospect, it’s lucky I wasn't carrying that, though, ‘cause it no doubt screams “terrarist”: there are about four pages of Syrian visas, re-entry permits, and extensions, six or seven Turkish visas, additional Lebanese and Jordan entry and exit stamps, and a Myanmar visa to boot. Also, some helpful border guard at a Turkey-Syria crossing once took it upon himself to make a bunch of notes in ball-point pen on the back page—in Arabic. My passport and I get occasional cameos in Security Theatre; most recently we got pulled aside and questioned for several minutes by a Homeland Security dude at the border when returning from Vancouver to Seattle. Interestingly, it never seems to happen to me at JFK airport; maybe the immigration officers there are just a bit more cosmopolitan?)
The Smith and 9th stop is the highest point in the whole subway system, and itself an excellent vantage point for photography. But there’s also something beautiful about the structure of the tracks and their buttresses, seen from below. (Once, walking in the vicinity, Teju proclaimed it the architectural equivalent of a Jean-Paul Gaultier design.) So anyway, after snapping away at a bent Stop sign and a rusty chain-link fence, I lowered my camera to cross the street, and that’s when the patrol car pulled up and the cop in the passenger seat yelled at me to come over.
He asks, in what I can only describe as a confrontational tone, what I'm doing. Taking pictures, I tell him. Of the neighborhood, the buildings, the station, stuff. I live here, in Gowanus; I like photography.
You can’t do that, he says. It’s not allowed.
Why not, I asked. By this time, I knew perfectly well what was going on, but I wanted to hear him say it, to get the full measure of the absurdity of this exchange.
He says: “Terrarists.” Full stop.
And then he glares at me, and demands my ID. “Terrarists” would do that, he elaborates. The bizarre episode of security theatre lasted another five minutes or so, during which he threatened me with a summons (!) and harassed me for not having a NY state ID.*
It took every bit of my self control to not resort to what my granny would call “backtalk”, especially as I knew he was bullshitting me about the ID (there’s no requirement to have or carry one) and suspected, correctly, he was lying about the photography issue as well. My anger was exacerbated by the strong suspicion that were my gender and skin tone other than they are, I might have been in cuffs in the back of that car already. If he’d tried to take the camera or erase photos, I’d have insisted upon going to the station. But after taking down all the info on my ID, and bullying me a bit more, they drove off.
In retrospect, I’m furious with myself for not getting their badge numbers, so I could file a complaint. The cop lied to me about the law: despite initial efforts to ban photography in the subway system, it remains perfectly legal. Googling in the aftermath, I found this photographer’s rights flyer; I have printed it out and will be carrying it with me in case of future encounters with powertripping assholes and/or confused MTA staff.
In a silly sense, it feels like I’ve just earned some amateur photography merit badge, given the number of people I know who’ve been stopped, hassled, and even arrested for taking photos in public places. (like Nura, for being in the tunnels to shoot this amazing series; or Anand, who got hauled in by the Delhi police once for taking photos in Connaught Place). In a number of places I’ve traveled, it’s illegal to photograph bridges, railway stations, etc (this is true in India, for example—another charming hangover of the colonial legal code, I believe!—as well as in much more undemocratic places). I’m used to exercising caution about what I’d photograph in Burma or Syria, and even Thailand or Turkey. But it annoys the hell out of me that it's so common here, where the law is on our side--in theory.
*I handed them my old, just-expired Washington one; I don’t have a drivers license, and usually use my passport when needed. In retrospect, it’s lucky I wasn't carrying that, though, ‘cause it no doubt screams “terrarist”: there are about four pages of Syrian visas, re-entry permits, and extensions, six or seven Turkish visas, additional Lebanese and Jordan entry and exit stamps, and a Myanmar visa to boot. Also, some helpful border guard at a Turkey-Syria crossing once took it upon himself to make a bunch of notes in ball-point pen on the back page—in Arabic. My passport and I get occasional cameos in Security Theatre; most recently we got pulled aside and questioned for several minutes by a Homeland Security dude at the border when returning from Vancouver to Seattle. Interestingly, it never seems to happen to me at JFK airport; maybe the immigration officers there are just a bit more cosmopolitan?)
posted by kitabet at 12:56 PM
4 Comments:
goddamn "terrarist". i should interview you. :)
Ha! I've been told of for taking pictures too...it was in Kashmir. A while back they didn't even allow you to take pictures from the plane - I was once told to delete the ones I'd taken - but I think now its ok to.
And terrarists - sigh, that has to be so frustrating. Like someone I know who asked my why I was interested in learning Arabic in the future and why I am learning Turkish now - such an unstable region, full of suicide bombers, Islamists taking over. Sigh.
Also, iyi bayramlar!
this was my old neighborhood when i first moved to brooklyn in 2001. i lived in the townhouses of the converted chocolate factory at court and 9th, and our windows and courtyard faced the gorgeous smith/9th stop. it's a really beautiful station, perched as high as it is, and a very urban contrast to the sky.
sorry that this happened to you. police in that area were always jerks, full of the useless machismo most cops are. and next time, of course, get their badge numbers and file complaints. that's the only thing that'll make these idiots learn.
Sigh. This is the story of my life.
I have been searched 6-7 times (I've lost count) in subway stations, and the most recent time (a couple of weeks ago) I was asked for my ID. I said no, asked why, etc, but eventually I gave in because I was going to be late for work.
I'm pretty sure that's not legit.
Post a Comment
<< Home