It’s hard to believe, but last week I was in Rouyn-Noranda, QC to cover the 22nd edition of FME. Sunday night was the annual delegate dinner, at Centre de Musique en Sol Mineur. The weather was gorgeous. The company was delightful: At one point, a fellow photographer introduced me to a journalist, who also up from NYC. As it turned out, she grew up in Jackson Heights — not too far from me. We quickly became friends.
The food was amazing. Steak and chicken raised, slaughtered and butchered by local famers and cooks. I wound up having a conversation with one man, a fairly stereotypical yet absolutely charming Québécois farming/hunting type. At one point, he told me that he thought I was cool walking around town with my camera gear. We then had a brief conversation about US politics. He asked me if I thought Harris was going to win. “I’m not sure,” I said to him. “I don’t trust the white electorate.”
He went on to ask me, “because of the racism and sexism, huh?”
“Yep,” I said. He asked me, who I was voting for, unsure of what I’d say. I had this look on my face that clearly read “Motherfucker, I’m a Black man, who do you think?” Then I said “Kamala.”
The conversation ended with him telling me that I must try the chicken. He had raised them, slaughtered them and butchered them himself. Luckily I did have some earlier. And it was a delicious. I would have had more if I didn’t have to rush off to a set.
Discover more from The Joy of Violent Movement
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.