A Choice of Weapons: Honoring the Legendary Gordon Parks Through My Lens
It is not every day that your work is chosen to honor a legend. And it is certainly not every day that your photograph greets visitors at the entrance of an exhibition dedicated to one of the most important photographers of the 20th century.
In 2012, two pieces from my body of work were selected for A Choice of Weapons: The New Renaissance Artists, a centennial tribute to Gordon Parks, curated by SAVAE Inc. and African Voices, and hosted by the 1199SEIU Bread & Roses Cultural Project in New York City. The exhibition marked what would have been Gordon Parks’ 100th birthday and brought together the work of 30 visual artists and photographers whose practices engage social justice, identity, and truth-telling.
What made the moment even more surreal was this: my photograph Crown of Locs was one of the first works viewers encountered upon entering the gallery—placed directly next to the main portrait of Gordon Parks himself.
Petula Payne, Mireille Liong, Patrice Payne, Carolyn A Butts
A Choice of Weapons
The title of the exhibition struck me instantly. A Choice of Weapons was not just Gordon Parks’ memoir—it was his philosophy. Parks used his camera as a weapon against racism, poverty, and injustice. He showed America itself, often when it didn’t want to be seen.
That is exactly what I have been doing with natural hair: I've been shooting for justice, aiming for equal hair rights one head shot at the time.
Crown of Locs is the cover of my book - Click to Download
Crown of Locs & Top Locs
The two works selected—Crown of Locs and Top Locs—are part of my exhibition collection BAD Hair Uprooted.
Crown of Locs was photographed at the International African Arts Festival in 2011. The model is Shakilla, a woman I had photographed before and who continues to inspire me endlessly. She is not only the owner of waist-length locs; she is a sculptor of her own crown. She transforms her locs into architectural art and then wears them with a quiet authority that cannot be ignored.
Shakilla does not “style” her hair to fit in.
She wears it as a declaration.
Top Locs continues that same narrative—locs not as rebellion, not as trend, but as mastery. As culture. As presence.
To see these images framed within an exhibition honoring Gordon Parks felt deeply humbling. Parks documented the dignity of Black life at a time when that dignity was routinely denied. To be included in that lineage—even briefly—was a profound honor.
Top Locs
Just like Gordon Parks, I believe images can shift consciousness without violence. Through my lens, I want Black women, children, and teenagers to see themselves reflected with pride—to understand that they already have good hair, and that no chemical, wig, or weave is required to make them worthy.
Community, Conversation, Legacy
The exhibition was accompanied by artist talks, musical performances by the KAPE Band, and rich dialogue among creatives and viewers. The final viewing received powerful feedback, including from colleagues at UBS who were deeply moved by the artistic vision and social relevance of the work.
Standing in that room—surrounded by artists, elders, and peers—I felt both small and affirmed. Small in the presence of history. Affirmed in the knowledge that this work matters.
Full Circle
More than a decade later, BAD Hair Uprooted has evolved into a living archive, a traveling exhibition, and a documentary in progress. But the roots of that work—quite literally—were became more visible in 2012.
Being invited to honor Gordon Parks was not just recognition.
It was confirmation.
My camera is my weapon.
And I am still using it.
With gratitude to SAVAE Inc., African Voices, the 1199SEIU Bread & Roses Cultural Project, and everyone who supported this historic tribute—and with deep respect to Gordon Parks, whose legacy continues to light the way.
