When Racism Spoils A Good Photo

Or why white photographers can’t take good photos of Black people

I must have been 12. My mum, who’s always had a love for family group photographs took us to a professional studio in Geneva. It was a significant financial drain on her single breadwinner income. She asked us to dress up in our Sunday best and my brothers, sisters, and I did as we were told. We couldn’t afford to do the shoot over again if something went wrong.

We got to the studio, the white photographer looked professional enough. He gave us direction, asked us to stand in a beautiful constellation — the photo composition looked impeccable. I was relieved, he did know his craft after all. When he was just about to snap the shot, we all said “cheese” and smiled wholeheartedly.

After what seemed like an eternity, the photos arrived in the mail. All five of us children were buzzing with excitement as my mum delicately opened the brown cardboard envelop. We couldn’t wait to finally see the long-awaited photographs.

A few moments later, I could see utter disappointment register on my older brother’s face. He had a lovely dark chocolate hue, but in the professional studio photographs, we could barely see his face. We were all surprised. What had happened? Wasn’t the photographer a professional after all? Wasn’t he supposed to shoot professional, magazine-like quality photos for us? Even with our handheld amateur cameras, we could have done a better job!

Little did we know it at your time, but we’d just come across a case of a white photographer who had no idea of how to take photos of someone with dark skin.

For many black and brown people, this story will sound painfully familiar. The reality is that until the recent onset of digital cameras, more often than not, white photographers in my part of the world did a terrible job photographing black and brown people. We were either underexposed or overexposed — sometimes even unrecognizable.

Even today, some still struggle with providing an accurate rendition of the subject. Taking professional photographs of and filming people with black or brown skin takes knowledge and experience.

When I was getting married, the photographer I hired for the day assured me that she was used to taking photos of black and brown people. She didn’t have any photos to share, and that should have been a “red flag”. Young and trusting as I was at the time, I entrusted her with the important task of recording our special day. Throughout the event, I saw her taking photos here and there. I was excited to see her photos — to get an idea about how our guests had spent the day.

Upon our return from our honeymoon, we had a hard time getting ahold of her. We were keen to finally see the shots. When we did receive them, I was disappointed to see that most of the photographs were too dark. Our saving grace were photos that a very good friend of ours took during the day — they were the most beautiful photographs of our wedding that I treasure to this very day.

A few years ago, I was invited to feature in a film about malaria. I was excited for the opportunity to speak about how the disease affected people — especially babies and young children in Africa. When I arrived at the filming studio, I was surprised to see how poorly lit it was. I mentioned my concern to the producer who politely told me he knew what he was doing and instructed me to relax. The crew turned on the studio lights but I still didn’t feel it was sufficient.

Weeks later when I received the final cut of the film, I wasn’t surprised to see how dark my whole scene was. It was yet another case of how professional white photographers fail at taking good photos of black and brown subjects.

With the increase of video-conferencing during the Covid 19 pandemic, I needed to rely on the webcam on my computer a lot more than before. I realized that whenever I found myself in a poorly lit venue, my colleagues could barely see my expressions. While at times it was convenient, it quickly became a source of stress and frustration for me.

I started looking for a new webcam that could capture light as well as my dark hue considerably well. That of course was not an easy thing to find, reviews hardly ever give you that information.

In the end, I did find an excellent webcam, and my friends and colleagues tell me that with it, my image is so professional, they feel like I am in a well-lit television studio when we speak over video-conferencing.

The thing is, for most of my life, I have had to deal with poor photography and film simply because I am black. At this stage, I have zero tolerance for this given current technological advances that allow even our smartphones to take some of the best photos of black and brown people that I have ever seen. If that’s possible, then there is no reason why a webcam shouldn’t be able to do the same.

But from time to time, I still across situations where a white professional photographer tries to capture an image of me without paying attention to light conditions. While in the past, I was shy about “putting my foot down”, to demand better light, today, I am no longer afraid to do so.

Also, if I need to hire a photographer, I insist on viewing their portfolio beforehand to see their body of work. No pun intended, I no longer have any patience for photographs that don’t show my family, friends, and myself in the best light possible.

Some may wonder why I chose to write a whole article about this topic. It may not seem relevant, but the reality is that it is. As a black person, I feel as if I live in a world that was made for white people only. And this issue around white photographers not knowing how to photograph black or brown faces is like white hairdressers not knowing how to style black hair. It’s unacceptable.

As demographics continue to change, it will become even more important for businesses to not only cater to the needs of white people, but to those of black and brown people as well. The world has no other choice but to evolve.

Thank you for reading my perspective.