Words by: Tess Hardy (she/her)
The scale of the challenge and the persistent threat is clear in each image – yet so is the resistance.
‘You think you just fell out of a coconut tree? You exist in the context of all in which you live and what came before you…’ – Kamala Harris
Everything we have – from university, to snogging a fellow lady, from clubbing in Stereo to contraception – we have because people fought for it, together. As a queer woman from the North East of England, I am very conscious of my debt to resistance. Our lives are enriched with liberties fought for across a multitude of groups in the UK in unfathomable ways.
It often feels as though the world is on fire – from the ongoing genocide of the Palestinian people, to the return of authoritarian politics across the globe. Suddenly, these liberties feel utterly menial and unhelpful against what seems like the omnipotence of evil.
This, my friend, the feeling of demoralised imagination, is one I know all too well. I look at photos of my fore-mothers; my great-grandad Norman, a miner of Thorne Colliery; then, with a blink, the state of our strange society. I spent the last year attempting not to feel so small and helpless – joining political action groups, fighting for “bread and roses”. These freedoms are not to be held ideally in our hearts; they can slip away in a moment’s notice. As a community, we have the responsibility to resist their absence. We must actively intertwine ourselves to the liberation of all people.
All the power to all the people.
While entrenched in my political side hustle – megaphone and keffiyeh at the ready – the news of Steve McQueen’s new exhibition broke through my cacophony of chanting. McQueen illustrates the interconnectedness of struggles and how resistance has shaped life in the UK, and the powerful role of photography in documenting and driving change. So, in my Fiat Panda, to Edinburgh’s Modern Two we set off.
Protest is woven into the fabric of Britain’s progress, and photography has always been the eyes to the window of the revolution’s soul. Here, the soul of revolution is masterfully laid out by McQueen. Photography presents you with a truth – not always pretty, but a truth we must reckon with.
Behind the scenes of storming marches, rallies, and riots, these stills of social history were taken in a period of significant political progress. We are presumptuous to the simplicity of life – from paid holidays, sick pay, maternity leave, and voting, to the right to love. This progress is not an autonomous or spontaneous process. McQueen gives us faces to thank and honour, inviting us to be the face in the next image snapped. Whether man or woman, Black or Brown, from mothers to miners – livelihoods, liberty, and lives were risked with no guarantee of success. One certainty is true: there is no winning without fighting. That fight never ends.
The endless struggle for suffrage is a frightening one, it seems there is always a blasphemous bill being passed, a ruthless regime falling, or a woeful war starting. The photography of the exhibition is an antidote to our hopelessness, demanding we improve our imaginations. The scale of the challenge and the persistent threat is clear in each image – yet so is the resistance. Words fall on deaf ears, yet when faced with a picture of passion burned in time, it is hard to forget what we see.
We’re suspended in a state of learned helplessness – doomscrolling, ceasing to watch the news. It only seems to get worse, our inaction begs others’ action, waiting for the tiresome trajectory to turn. In each image you see a face, not too dissimilar to yours – bar an ‘80s perm or a ‘70s shirt – resisting this passivity. McQueen tells us frankly, and to the bloody point: if we do not struggle, we do not progress.
So, while the world wages on around us, the clock keeps ticking, and the sun spinning, now is as good a time as any to get your head on, pet! We desire so greatly to look beyond our borders that we forget how greatly we can help the world at home. Do you see your friends as they are? Start with that – love is as radical an act of resistance as any. We must look to the people, left and right, and build community. That’s what struck me, standing arm in arm with my best friend, looking at two women helping each other climb a fence of a US army base. Oh! How that could be Frannie, Martha, and me running to the Greenham Common Women’s Camp! Progress starts on our doorstep, our streets, and in our lives. It takes a village; change cannot occur alone. The people united will never be defeated.
Lest we forget – with our brothers and our sisters, there is power in a union.
GO NOW!
