I've made many conclusions and inferences from this book. Some make me question the line of work I wish to pursue and if I'm suited for it. Other parts of the book are relatable and situations I know are unavoidable for any kind of journalist.
Throughout the book, Lynsey Addario clearly paints herself as a dedicated patron to her work. Sacrificing many relationships both romantically and platonically while also sacrificing her comfort and safety. Those are the situations I see every person who pursues a career in media should expect to experience. However, the contrast from who she was at the start of the book in regards to photography and who she has developed into thought chapter seven are two vastly different people.
I don't ever want to let my work change me. I look for growth through my career, but I refuse to let it alter my fundamentals of human compassion. The first mention of Addario witnessing death in her book was early on in her journey. I believe she was in Afghanistan and her driver was shot. She briefly mentioned it and seemed hardly affected by it. As time went on and she traveled to other countries, she started to put other people's life before her work. I got the sense that she was exploiting other peoples suffering for a better feature. That's where I wonder if I'm capable of witnessing the famine, the rape, the suppression of these people, and not step into the frame to help. I don't know if I'm mentally strong enough to witness those traumas and walk away only to then enter my own world to click and drag my photos to my editor. The ability to be so aware of the tragedy in the world, and then consciously choosing to put blinders on to the suffering people is a skill I do not have, nor will I ever have. It is one of the most selfish traits to have as a human. Valuing success and money over people's dignity and lives is a fundamental I refuse to work for.
Addario address this concern of mine in chapter seven. She claims that by publishing these authentic photos of human suffering to the New York Times will cause awareness to poverty in first world countries where we know no such struggle. I understand that concept, and I recognize press and media is the main word of mouth, but just for me personally, I wouldn't be able to get any rest in the environment she's in. Maybe that's something a photographer or a journalist has to learn, to humble yourself in order to comprehend others' quality of life and traditions. But I cannot simply hop on a plane after being among suppressed women seen as objects or as "a casualty" to society, starving children, or suffering families.
One other thing I took note of was her family's reaction to when she called. Specifically when she called her fathers work and she mentioned that the receptionist responded in a "squeaky" and eager voice. Addario thought the receptionist might not even know who she is. The receptionist clearly did based on the reaction over the phone. Her father must have been boasting about her to everyone at work. He must have not stopped talking about her work and his worries for her safety. "I felt his love thought and the absence of words." (pg 130) I know my mother does the exact same thing. It struck a personal chord of sympathy. This is another personal sacrifice any traveling journalist has to make. A sacrifice of loved one's concerns. However, I know while my own mother will worry about me regardless, nothing beats the feeling of pride she feels for me. But the thought of her hurting for her children, due to my own intentional action, hurts me. The face Addario's father couldn't even talk to her due to an overwhelming sense of emotion concerned me for my own family. Even though she expected her father to not pick up, or his receptionist to not recognize her, her father had clearly been bragging on her while she was always the first thing on his mind.
This book has helped me to (on a much minor scale) take the opportunity whenever it presents itself. I'll rarely go anywhere on campus without my camera, despite the inconvenience of adding another five to ten pounds on my shoulder. The other day I captured (not very well) a herd of wild elk as I was driving back from the countryside. My camera was sitting passenger seat, and I knew I'd regret missing this opportunity if I kept driving. I pulled to the side of the road, put my hazards on, and tried to adjust the settings to accommodate the post dusk lighting. I switched out lenses to shoot the wild herd of no less than 100 elk settling into the rolling acres of farm territory. Needless to say, I had little to no idea what I was doing.
That's not the point though!
My favorite series of photos Addario has on her website is the "Women at War". Wow. The whole series captures the underestimated strength and empathy women experience when it comes to "masculine" stereotypes. This is just one of the many photos that I stopped to admire throughout this series. Women have always had to fight. They've had to fight to vote, they've had to fight for equal rights, they've had to fight against discrimination. It would make sense that women can fight in war. Women are not a casualty, women are not a burden, and women refuse to be subjected to their gender.
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