Bailey Elizabeth Rogers
Children Of The Movement
A Black Lives Matter Story
"A day of peace, A day of pride,
A day of justice we have been denied,
When a man can live,
And a child can play,
We'll never get to heaven till we reach that day”
Ragtime: The Musical
In the summer of 2020, sparked by both the increasing presence of white supremacist groups, and the police shootings of George Floyd and other black individuals, America faced a reckoning over its ever-present issues with racial inequality and systemic racism. These events enraged much of the nation, and made the country acknowledge the harsh reality of being black in America. With tens of thousands of people calling for an end to this injustice at protests in all 50 states, people saw that change was necessary. That even though it would take nationwide commitment, years of hard work, and major systemic changes, we needed to begin the necessary work to make life for black Americans infinitely better.
As an artist I felt a want to capture this moment in our country’s history, but more so, I felt a need. And while I couldn’t understand the feeling of being black in America, I knew the injustices were real, and more importantly, wrong. I had to find away to raise my voice, fight for what is right, and be an ally. And doing that through my photography was the only way I knew how. I had to take to the streets with my camera and use my photographic eye to create images that told the story of Black Lives Matter, and most importantly, encouraged change and spread hope.
Before I attended my first march in the St. Louis suburb of Chesterfield, I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to tell this story. I didn't want to force anything. I didn't want to try too hard. I wanted it to come about naturally. To organically create raw and honest photos that would really bring the movement to life. Images that shared a unique point of view that spoke to both my eyes, and my heart.
About 30 minutes into that first march, much to my surprise, the story I wanted to tell became crystal clear. It wasn't at all what I had expected to focus on, but it was what grabbed me. What invigorated and excited me. What moved me. It was the story I was meant to tell. It was the story of a new generation of activists who were just beginning to use their voices for good. Who were fighting for justice and change, and spreading the message that it was time to start over. It was time to begin again, and I was watching that new beginning unfold.
This new generation, these fledgling activists, were children. And at the marches I attended there were so many. And I don't mean just preteens and teens, but little kids. They weren't just there, they were actively engaged. And nowhere was the story that captured me more moving than at a children’s march organized by eight year old Nolan Davis in the small town of Kirkwood Missouri. Children were marching, chanting, giving speeches, and carrying signs that they had clearly made themselves. Signs written in crayon and marker, some with backwards letters, spelling errors, and messy drawings. It was inspiring, and for some reason those imperfect signs made their presence even more powerful. To these kids, even those so young they didn't know how to spell, this country’s problem was obvious. And in their innocent eyes, the answer is so clear; "stop hurting black people", "treat everyone the same", "be nice to black friends like friends".
My heart drew me to these kids, and the messages they were spreading. I was moved and inspired by them. And as an artist, I couldn't stop taking their pictures. It was so clear to me that this was the story I wanted to tell about this moment in history. I wanted to tell the story of how racial injustice in our country is so obvious that even the youngest members of our society see it. And more importantly, they want to change it. They are our future. They are our hope. Hope for a new beginning. Hope for a world full of a lot less hate and injustice, and a lot more love. And if they could make me see this, maybe through my photos they could make others see it too. Maybe they could open the eyes of those who don't acknowledge this problem, challenge the thoughts of a racist, or inspire others to speak up and advocate for change. Maybe they will write our new story. And maybe, just maybe, they could help create the nationwide "army" this country needs to start anew, and change what it means to be black in America.
























