The DIRTY

Words and Images by Akintola Hanif

When I first touched down in the A, I was expecting the usual: pretty college girls, strippers, great weather, and fun. But on my way to the hotel I found another reality. Right in the middle of downtown Atlanta was a place that looked just like “The Carter,” the crack complex from New Jack City. Except it wasn’t a complex, it was a homeless shelter/warehouse filled with crackheads and dope fiends. I hadn’t seen this many crackheads in one place since the late 80’s, and what was even more surprising was that the hustlers sold that shit hand to hand, breaking little pieces of crack off lager slabs while the police circled the block. (They do this so that if the police approach them they can just swallow the crack)

I was in Atlanta to shoot my 103 year-old aunt for the upcoming book, (1)NE DROP: Conversations on Skin Color, Race and Identity by my good friend, Dr. Yaba Blay. But once I saw the hopelessness that existed right down the street from the Hilton, I knew I had to document it. Yaba was driving and agreed to take me back.

When I got out of the car I approached an OG fiend named Eyes. You could look at Eyes and tell in his heyday he was a G. I introduced myself, told him I was a photographer (what I do and why I do it) and it was on from there. He let me shoot him and invited me back the next day--the first of the month. That’s the day when the crackheads get their welfare checks and binge smoke until they’re broke again. I couldn’t have arrived at a more active time.

When I went back, another cat named BG, who was heavy in the hood in Atlanta was, my tour guide. There were like150 addicts up and down the block all being served by four coke boys. First we circled "The Carter,'' taking photos of as many people as would agree, and then we mobbed through his hood, The Fourth Ward.

BG was a star there and everybody knew him, so I shot almost everybody we passed. From there we went to the trap, where I was formally introduced to the homies, the product, and the process.

On my way to Atlanta, all I could think about was how fun it would be. But on my way back, all I could think about was how many of us have lost the fight. And how even though this is the case, our strength and courage is unparalleled. I was sincerely grateful for the access that Eyes and BG provided me, so on our way to the airport I took Eyes a lil' goodie bag filled with all our leftover drinks and some bali (not molly) that BG gave me. (I hit BG earlier and thanked him).

While I was flying through the sky, hopping cities and taking flicks, some of our finest people were on the street, living in hell. Still, these people were more sincere, open, and giving than most of the successful people I meet on a daily. I love them for that.

HYCIDE 150: SEE THE BEAUTY IN ALL HUMANITY