Kachiside Madu

My name is Kachiside Madu and I am a freelancing photographer born, raised and based out of Sacramento.

Understanding where we fall in the battle for social justice is an instrumental piece to the fight. In that very moment, one can identify areas in which they need more insight or education, one can see how they can contribute to the fight for social justice or unfortunately, one can join in on the systemic oppression. For myself, I chose to use my camera as a vessel to stand in solidarity with fellow activists. My images are designed to story tell, provoke deep thoughts while also bringing attention to inequities and racial discrimination particular demographics have historically faced. The images submitted accomplish just that while also honoring those lost too soon due to unjust laws, capitalism and systemic oppression.

https://www.maduimages.com

IG: @make_it_madu

Madu Kachiside...Breathe, May 30, 2020

Madu Kachiside, Black & Brown, May 30, 2020

Madu Kachiside, No Apologies, May 30, 2020

Madu Kachiside, Stephon Clark, March 24, 2018

Madu Kachiside, All In, May 30, 2020

Madu Kachiside, Capitol Run, March 24, 2018

Madu Kachiside, It Isn’t Everything, October 20, 2019

Madu Kachiside, Panther Party, March 12, 2021

Madu Kachiside, To My Queens, June 9, 2018

Madu Kachiside, Be Mad, May 30, 2020

Madu Kachiside, I’m Out, October 20, 2019

Madu Kachiside, Speak Up, May 26, 2020

Madu Kachiside, Which Side May 30, 2020

Our Streets! by John Johnson, Sacramento State

Content Warning: Police violence and racial trauma

On March 18, 2018, while canvassing for someone who had been breaking windows, and after allegedly mistaking his cell phone for a weapon, Sacramento police fired 20 rounds at Stephon Clark who was shot several times, including multiple times in the back, and subsequently died on the ground in his grandparents' backyard. The community response to this tragedy was almost immediate. Protesters took to the streets and shut down Interstate 5. People gathered in front of the Golden 1 Arena and delayed the start of a Sacramento Kings game. The incident quickly became national news. 

The shooting of Stephon Clark was captured by the officer’s body-worn camera and became part of a growing collection of documented incidents that increased the visibility of police violence against Black people. The viral video recording of the killing of Eric Garner by New York police in 2014 was almost immediately followed by video of John Crawford, III getting gunned down by police for shopping at Walmart while Black. The killing of Philando Castille was fresh in our minds back in 2016 and Sacramento Police had recently killed Joseph Mann. The Sacramento Chapter of Black Lives Matter was actively pushing back against these repeated incidents of State violence and calling for action at that time. 

Data from a 2016 city audit indicated that approximately 75% of the sworn officers in Sacramento were White, with only 3% identified as Black/African-American. But it wasn’t just the fact that there were too few Black police, it was that too many in the Sacramento Black community felt like they were being violated and harmed by local policing practices. All of these tragedies, in terms of both the blatant disregard for Black humanity and the ever-present threat of humiliation, degradation, or violence by State actors, contribute to collective trauma and foment community discord. The 2017 installation of Daniel Hahn, the city’s first Black Chief of Police, generated hope for more transparency, accountability, and representation, as well as a reduction in violence against Black people. But spring of 2018 jolted us back to reality and the subsequent refusal of DA Schubert in 2019 to file charges against the officers who killed Stephon, sparked a second wave of civic engagement that resulted in the passing of AB392, changing the conditions in which law enforcement officers in California can use deadly force.

On the heels of that victory, we were confronted last year with a deluge of incidents that communicated how deeply rooted anti-Blackness is in American culture. It also confirmed that an exploitive capitalist economy grounded in White cis-heteropatriarchy and wealth accumulation does not create conditions that promote community, nor does it contribute to our collective humanity. Reminiscent of the inspiring words penned by Assata Shakur, Madu’s extraordinary photos remind us that it is our duty to fight for our freedom and that we have nothing to lose but our chains.

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