Photographing in the Philippines

While in the Philippines, I struggled with the ethics of photographing people who are suffering. How can I justify my yearning to capture the painful eyes of a hungry child when what she needs is a meal? What gives me the right to invade a community with my camera? My presence alters the balance. How much will exposing my camera from my backpack distance me from the very people I desire to know?

In Iloilo City on the island of Panay, there are hidden urban areas whose residents are still called "squatters," even after living on the same land for generations. When the landowner decides it is time to develop the land, communities of these "possessors" are broken up, residents are relocated, and the land is then used for new subdivisions, beach resorts, or other lucrative ventures.

On a morning in mid July, my two companions and I went to a community facing relocation. Community leaders showed us around, proudly detailing their relationship with the ocean for food and with one another for strength. While walking, we came across two men mending their fishing net. I wanted to photograph this scene, but a gentleman with us thought I was asking to photograph the children. He ordered the children away from their play and arranged them into a posed picture. I felt guilty taking the photo. Yet now, when I look at my photographs, I remember the stories behind them. Showing and telling those stories is a way to recall and report the injustices I saw.