One day, as I was walking down the street, I saw two different houses. One was a large golden house that was clearly owned by a well-off family. The second house was a small dingy shack. The house had fewer amenities and furnishings, but you could clearly see that it was full of love; the people at the house were cheerful and happy.
The owner of the large house decided one day that all his riches were not enough, so he set his sight on his neighbour’s property. He gradually moved his fence closer to the small shack next door. As he moved closer and closer in, the owner of the smaller house demanded that he stop. The owner of the larger house became enraged and took control of his neighbour’s property.
Later that year, many other owners of rich and fancy houses in that part of the world began to take smaller houses over. Owners of the rich houses had more and more disputes as to who could own the houses. The occupants of the smaller houses began to resist more and more. They became angry and sad that people would commit such terrible acts. The rich owners eventually came to an agreement that they would divide the houses among themselves. Families were separated because their homes were owned by different people.
Photo by Ciprian Bota
The rich owners also came to the conclusion that they did not want to work for themselves. They realized that, if they inflicted enough fear on the poor homeowners, those less fortunate ones would work for them for free. As more and more pain was inflicted, the poor owners began to work harder and harder, for no pay. They were forced to garden, clean, and cook for the rich owners. This happened for years and years. The rich owners also established laws for the poor owners as to what they could and could not do. This was the never-ending cycle of torture.
As years went on, the rich people decided that they were tired of ruling over the poor houses, so they just left the smaller houses. The people from the poor houses now had no houses, no jobs, no leader. They were left alone. Although the rich owners were gone, their ideals were still left with them. Poor people from all over had come to believe that the rich were better and that hey had more power than the poor.
The less fortunate people eventually rebuilt their lives and began to live normally. They would try to live as they once had, but people would should insults at them, and they were viewed as bad people. As time went on, things did improve, but the scars were still there. Their land was still not their own. They lived in bravery with these scars until one day their houses were set on fire by another person. Nobody came to save them. They eventually began to protest and were telling people that their houses mattered. The rich people looked down at them and said that all houses matter and did not do anything about it. This continued for many years as more and more houses were set on fire. The rich still looked down at them and said that that all houses matter. They never had their own houses set on fire. They were the ones causing the fires, and yet they still found a way to act like victims.
Both kinds of houses were viewed as being equal until the rich decided that they were superior to the poor. Now, humanity was divided because of greed.
Broken Clocks :: " Each image constitutes an aesthetic sensitivity approach that is both, time intimate and social. In this work, I’m trying to come to terms with how I honestly see and depict women's identity.
In the Broken Clocks series, colours and lights are woven into our minds for a self-examination of what we consider to be essential and true. Are my pictures romanticized? Sexualized? Why do I see women in this way?
For me, photography is as much about the way I respond to the subject as it is about the subject itself. I feel that my background in fine art photography serves me to creating portraits that are rich in detail and texture, without losing interest in the subject. "
Bio: ThierryJ.Benson was born in Haiti, but raised in Canada. Finding his passion in the arts, he studied in fine art photography at Concordia University as well commercial photography at Dawson College in Montreal. His focus is on shooting intimate life moments - depicting an entire story with only one picture. Currently living in Montreal, he often travels to meet new people and discover places for inspiration.
Instagram: www.instagram.com/thierryj.benson/
What is in a name?
That is a question I have been struggling with my entire life. When someone asks me my name, why do I always answer “Moh”? That is not the name my parents gave me. They named me Mohammad.
Identity is a funny thing. It’s a concept I have wrestled with for years, growing up as the born product of refugees from a land I’m told is no longer mine. Growing up in white schools and white neighbourhoods, I tried to be more like everyone else, but some things can’t just be shaken. I’m brown.
When I go through airport security, I’m a young brown man with an Arab name. When I click submit on that online job posting, I’m a young brown man with an Arab name. When I check off the ‘visible minority’ box on every form I fill out, I’m a young brown man with an Arab name.
And when I walk the streets of Palestine, I’m a young brown man with an Arab name, only this time, I’m the norm.
So what about here? Canada? My place of birth? One of my homes?
The truth is, I’m still a young brown man with an Arab name, and that’s not going to change no matter how much I travel or where I go.
So, for the kids in Canada named Mohammad that bring weird lunches to school, I guess what I’m trying to say is: be you. Embrace it, because that doesn’t change.
And when the time comes when they ask you your name, tell them what makes you comfortable. But if you shorten it like I did, make sure it’s because you want to, don’t do it for others. Your name, your identity, that’s your home, no matter where you are.
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Biography:
Mohammad Mousa is a 23 year old Palestinian-Canadian, born and raised in Ottawa, Ontario. He graduated from the University of Ottawa in 2015 with a major in Conflict Studies and Human Rights, lived and worked in the West Bank, and plans to continue on to graduate studies in a related field within the next year.
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