I try to capture images expressing transition–a wrinkled hand that soothes a crying baby, a leap out of danger from waves crashing against rock, the taste of summer’s first apricots on the tongue, a counter-protester being embraced by protesters. When I saw this pillar, it was awestruck because people who, like me, drove down to the edge of the Cacapon River chose this pillar on which to make a statement. And it wasn’t a simple point, counterpoint. There was a real back and forth between those who considered Martin Luther King their hero, remembering “I have a dream,” and those who looked hatefully toward them, claiming “Niggars was here,” who even decorated their response with a yellow swastika. Since I took this photo, racism has become even more palpable nearly everywhere. Punches are no longer pulled. Wherever we can, it’s essential to use our words and images to document the emergence of racism as well as efforts to be inclusive and mutually accepting.