“It would be interesting to know what it is that (people) are most afraid of.” —Fyodor Dostoevsky

FACING FEAR - PHOTOGRAPHS BY JULES GREENBERG

Bertrand Russell identified fear as one of the main sources of cruelty in the world and Anwar al-Sadat warned that fear can destroy not only the soul of an individual but the soul of a people. Meanwhile, Benjamin Disraeli claimed that fear makes us feel our humanity and Hannah Arendt insisted that fear is indispensable to survival. Indeed, fear’s place in human thought and history is complex and contradictory. Perhaps no sentiment more closely maps the twisted topographies of both nations and souls. From the color lines of the Jim Crow laws and the borderlines of Mexico, to the long list of Japanese internees and the black lists of McCarthyism, to panics surrounding AIDS and SARS, to the detainment of prisoners without due process at Guantanamo Bay and a Patriot Act that overturns cherished civil liberties, fear continues to cut deeply and divisively into our lives, both personal and political.

Our fears are large and small, irrational and well founded. Quotidian fears of spiders, elevators and lightning intermingle with and ironically often overshadow serious threats of war and poverty.   Whether real or imagined, minimized or exaggerated, our fears shape the paths we walk on as well as the ones on which we dare not tread. Sometimes we confront fear, call it by name and weaken its grip; too often, as individuals and a nation, we remain silent and watch as it tightens the air around and within us, filling it with anger and aggression.

In this moment of heightened international tension and violence, when US President George W. Bush has ironically proclaimed that we must choose between “a world of fear” and “a world of progress,” I invite people to take a closer look at fear and to question not only at the many ways in which these worlds continue to be entangled, but also the ways in which we may participate in that entanglement.

In Facing Fear , a portrait project grounded in social documentary traditions, people from all regions and walks of life stop for a moment to admit, in image and text, what they fear most. African American teenager Chantel Brooker is afraid of “being poor.” Her friends Jenita Towns and Daisha Spires fear “mom,” “STDs,” “AIDS” and perhaps most sadly, “life.” David Wright, Neil Rogers and Man Chun Chung, all still young and vibrant, fear “death.” Warren Jackson, a transvestite who goes by the name Rosie, fears “conforming.” Lawrence Harley Shane, who is homeless and has been for quite some time, fears “situations.” Meanwhile, Amanda Hughes fears a ‘bad hair day’ and Mike Hogan, whose hair is dyed a wild electric blue, agrees with FDR that the only thing to fear is “fear” itself. Alfred Fontenot, who works with the mentally disabled, avoids revealing his own fears but offers the following bit of wisdom: “If we face our fear, it may just disappear.”

It is a comforting thought, and one with which Eleanor Roosevelt agreed.   “You gain strength, courage and confidence,” she said, “by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.” But is this really so, or do we tend, no sooner than we “conquer” one fear, to adopt another? By looking into the faces of those bold enough to admit their deepest fears, will we be more inclined to consider such questions, to look more carefully and critically at our own fears and the fears of others? Will we be better primed to discern whether our fears are based on real threats or rather on inventions of our own private or cultural imaginations? Will we be more apt to reconsider when we would do well to pay our fears more heed and we would do better to diminish them, lest they diminish us?

Maybe, or maybe not. But we cannot hope to grapple with that which we cannot see. As Dorothy Thompson, a leading opponent of Hitler and 1930’s fascism, counseled: “Fear grows in darkness; if you think there’s a bogeyman, turn on the light.” Facing Fear seeks to shed such light —in exhibits, magazines and hopefully a book.

Note: 50 archival prints are currently available in 2 sizes: 7” x 7” image on 8.5” x 11” paper (edition of 20) and 10” x 10” image on 11.7” x 16.5” paper (edition of 10). All images and text Copyright 2004, Jules Greenberg. Do not distribute or reproduce without prior written permission.