I am one of maybe four Black people/families that live in my gated community. The way it’s set up, there are grassy knolls where people run or walk themselves and their dogs. Each knoll slopes down into our back gates and decks, so, stop long enough – to chat or watch the dog poop – and see right into the neighbors’ homes. I feel especially ‘glanced’ at because I’m Black. Hyper-visible.
For one month on even days from 7:30P to 8:00P (prime dog walking time), I’ll give my neighbors something to look at. Through translucent vertical blinds, I project a looped scene from a mainstream film about voyeurism/surveillance images of an idyllic Black family waving at their neighbor. These ‘screenings’ are my protest, a response to the bass note of dread that accompanies my every act in my neighborhood.