Gallows and a Souvenir Stand
or
Wish you were here...
There is a frightening conformity to lynchings, in the position of the arms tied up, the white shirt pulled down to expose the chest and back, the way the head hangs in the noose, cocked to the side, mouth slightly open. Time and place are irrelevant; each picture represents any time and every place. The sameness in images serves as an example of how engrained lynchings are in the psyches of certain communities, ordinary as washing the clothes or milking the cows. Of course a lynching doesn't happen everyday, it is a special event like weddings and birthdays and celebrated with as much pomp and vigor. The town gathers, the men put on their best suits and the women their best hats. The children come out to laugh and play and they always bring their cameras. Self-designated photojournalists, there just in case someone misses the expression on the victim's face as he (or she or they) may or may not beg for mercy, as the cord is pulled, his neck perhaps snapping quickly and if not, he slowly chokes to death. Either way, it is over quickly, and the crowds gather for their photo opportunities, standing next to the limp body while their brother or sister takes a picture. They immortalize the moment on paper, they postmark it, sending it to cousins and aunts and mothers far away, wishing them well and wishing for the most part, that they could have seen it too.