"Vulnerability is not over-sharing, it's sharing with people who have earned the right to hear our stories and our experiences." brene brown
This post is a collaboration between me and another creative, Taylor Jordan. We align in how we think about our roles as creatives, and I often seek his input, so I'm grateful he wanted to be part of this blog post. While this is how we feel, I also want to note that it does not represent CrossFit's feelings on the topic. Furthermore, I understand others have done things differently, and that's okay. Still, I hope this encourages a deeper look into motivations about our role as storytellers and how our subjects deserve our best work and work that reflects our respect for them as people first.
I recently watched Civil War, a movie about journalists racing to DC. One very poignant scene in the film was after a colleague was killed, and the main photographer, despite initially doing her job and photographing the scene with him in the car, chose to delete the image.
The role of a creative is a complex one. Our so-called seat at the table allows us to be a part of lives in a way that most people witness from a peripheral view. It needs to be taken seriously with honest and trustworthy intent. Our role requires connection and presence in a way that respects those subjects in all their forms. Our job is not to make a decision that comprises our subject. Respect is paramount, regardless of the situation you are in.
First and foremost, our role is to tell a story that the world will see as honest and authentic. An award-winning journalist's foundation is vulnerability and awareness of how to tell a compassionate and connective story. Additionally, a level of professionalism should be inherently expected of a creative person.
At the CrossFit Games® this year, many experienced tragedy as bystanders, creators, and leaders. Some creators witnessed moments of vulnerability on and off the field involving athletes, community members, and staff. However, none of us can compare the magnitude of our experience to the family who experienced it.
I know this because I've done the session that no one aspires to do. Three years ago in October, I was asked to photograph the visitation and funeral of a young man who tragically died. I’ve come to know them through years of photographing their three children in various athletics and activities. This was a devastating shock, but in no way do I have the right even to compare what I was feeling to what this family went and continues to go through to this day. I prayed and prayed and prayed that I would capture those final moments with profound love, compassion, caring, intimacy, and the respect that his family, friends, and all those around deserved. This job was the most challenging photography I've ever done. It was also the most beautiful work I've captured, and knowing I could give a gift to that family during their deepest despair is an honor I cherish.
I'm sharing this because I've never asked, nor is it my right, to share those images. Those moments of vulnerability belong to THEM. The right to their story is theirs and theirs alone.
Because of this experience and witnessing such sorrow and vulnerability from those in attendance, you've not seen any images of mine.
Although the moments I captured from a discrete distance were done so reverently and respectfully, I am honoring them by ensuring that they are the ones to tell that story.
CrossFit shared images from that week with athletes. Still, I'm incredibly grateful that the CrossFit Games honored the athletes by allowing them to choose when they were ready to share their vulnerability.
We continued a job, but it was different. Nothing was the same. It was evident with the others on our team, with leadership, and with the spectators. Grief does not have a universal definition, and I want it known that, first and foremost, consideration for all of those around us was, as it always has been, paramount in how we conduct ourselves and how we represent the athletes in this sport we all love.
Something was different as I went through the images during my final edits. There were moments of happiness and celebration, but when I looked closely, there was something in the eyes. The eyes always tell the truth. They show the pain, the sorrow, the anger, and the heartbreak.
Those photographed deserve to be able to distribute and display their images when the time is right and when they are ready. When we make their choices, we distort their internal grief or emotions and misrepresent the moment.
So, friends, no, you won’t ever see me post any photos from this year's games because I don't feel I have the right to share them.
If you take anything from this, creatives, it will be a simple reminder that sometimes parts of the story don't need to be shared. Regardless of the work we do, there are times when discretion is paramount. There is a time when we forgo the sense of responsibility in the story and align with the sense of responsibility for the soul.
Much Love,
Ginnie and Taylor