ruddy roye photography

Revealing the reflections of my eyeball…. Radcliffe Roye is a Brooklyn based documentary photographer specializing in editorial and environmental portraits and photo-journalism photography. A photographer with over thirteen years of experience, Radcliffe is inspired by the raw and gritty lives of grass-roots people, especially those of his homeland of Jamaica. Radcliffe strives to tell the stories of their victories and ills by bringing their voices to matte fibre paper. www.ruddyroye.com

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August 27, 2014
“Who is our Black Leader”

Sometimes I find myself biting my tongue in an attempt not to offend on social media. However, sometimes passion takes over, and I grapple with losing control before all my words come bubbling over. 
I watched this young man walk up to the make shift shrine where Michael Brown was killed, with a portrait of Malcolm X tucked under his arm. In the midst of a dying fire, it suddenly occurred to me that this portrait was the most I had seen of a black leader since I began walking that stretch of road.
My heart has yet to resolve what I saw in Ferguson Missouri. I do not understand why the whole of America did not stop what they were doing and rise up to ensure that another young black youth does not lose their life so easily by the guns of unfeeling police officers. So today I will ask a question instead of my usual conjecture.
Where is the Black leadership of this country? 
Saw a son of one of our great ones at the funeral and the way his body looked I could tell that either he has not not marched a day in his life, or he preferred to run his dad’s foundation from behind a desk. As much as I criticized his father’s non violent methods, at least Sr. was able to harness the interest of a whole world. I can tell you that I left some of Ferguson’s youths with their bright red ember burning in their bellies — others unfortunately had just a flicker.  Nevertheless, both factions are walking around without the help of a guiding wind or hands to push their sticks together and repurposing their fire for good. Instead I watched the Clergy throw water on a movement and now all that flaming cinder and ash sits smoldering in their bellies, waiting for an indictment. (at Ferguson, Missouri)
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