I get a lot of emails asking permission to use my photos. And then there are people who don’t email and ask, and just go ahead and use them. I alternate between feeling angry about this, accepting it, and realizing that it occasionally benefits me as well.

Most photographers won’t work for free (check some of the angrier threads here), nor would most people ask a plumber to do his job for free. Photography is my job – it’s how I make my living. Intellectual property isn’t always straightforward, but here are my thoughts on a few scenarios.

Usage example #1: blogging about my work, using my images
A lot of bloggers linked to my Liberian Girls posts and some reposted the images. This is fine – they aren’t profiting from my work and are actually promoting my work by writing about it.

Usage example #2: blogging about relevant topics using my images
Some of the change.org bloggers have emailed with me about image usage. That’s great – they always link to my work and I’m happy to support their work.

Usage example #3: running a for profit company using my images without permission
I used to have a Flickr stream, but I took that down when a tourism website in Uganda had basically made an entire website using my photos. That company is using my work to try and profit without reimbursing me. A Flickr stream made it too easy for people to do this, and that’s why I stopped using Flickr.

Usage example #4: an institution with a large budget (regardless of how tight things are right now) using my images to promote their work
I did photos for a news story that focused on an American academic institution’s project here in Liberia. They wanted to use some of the photos in lectures and general promotion of their project. I know my images can help do this more than images taken on a small point and shoot digital camera.

I put them up on glennagordon.com to show the institution. It’s a flash website where it’s not quite as easy to just rip the images off. But, then a computer science friend told me that for anyone with a basic knowledge these things can rip them off just as easily.

To me, this institution has a budget that they spend on many other things, and would use my images to promote their work and have more budget to spend on other things. Even if they are currently strapped for cash, everyone (including me) is currently strapped for cash. If they want the images, they should pony up.

We emailed a bit, and then the conversation dropped off on their side before any decisions were made. I’m told they didn’t use the images in the end, but really, I have no way of knowing once the images go offline.

Usage example #5: a not for profit using my images without paying me
A few times, missionary groups or start up NGOs have asked to use my images. I always say that I’m happy to provide images at a reasonable price within their budget. Often, they seem upset that I’m asking for anything since they are nonprofit. They want me to just donate the images.

I have no problem donating images to causes I believe in, or groups that I think are doing good work. But, if I don’t know your group, how you work, or that you’re actually benefiting people, I have no motivation to donate images. I don’t believe that good intentions are all it takes. Oppositely, I often think groups can do harm. I’m not willing to give my images to a group that I haven’t vetted as doing no harm.

So no, I’m probably not going to donate an image unless I know more about the group and their work or have a personal connection to them.

In conclusion:
Want an image? Email me. Almost all of the time, I’m happy to work something out with you that both of us will be happy about.

I am considering watermarking my images. I haven’t fully decided yet, and I’m hoping that a post like this will make people realize they shouldn’t take my images without crediting my site, asking permission or offering remuneration.

Most people wouldn’t steal my wallet, so please don’t steal my images. Online, I can tell when and where you’ve done that.

My images take time, skill, investment in equipment, experience and expense to create.

Please respect that.

A sea of white cars. Oh, and behind the concrete wall and barbed wire, the sea.

Before I came to Liberia, friends and colleagues warned me that it wouldn’t be easy. It isn’t. But in was that are different than I expected.

But, I’m enjoying a new color palette to play with photographically, a palava hut with view of the ocean, new friends and colleagues, and frankly, I was tired of complaining about MTN, so here’s a whole new set of laugh-so-you-don’t-cry challenges.

FOOD

Thomas is a nice young man who comes to our house about once a week to wash clothes. On Tuesday, I asked him if he wouldn’t mind picking up a few things for us at the vegetable market. I don’t have time to go and haggle over the price of an avocado every week, and it’s a way for him to earn a little extra money.

He brought three moldy heads of cabbage, tiny onions (not the shallot kind, the picked-before-they-were-fully-mature kind), mushy potatoes already gone bad, instead of a pound of fresh tomatoes about a dozen small jars of tomato paste, and four avocados that won’t be ripe for at least a few weeks.

The best part was when I asked Thomas why he didn’t bring fresh tomatoes, he looked confused, and then asked me if I was referring to the “bush fruit.”

Fifteen dollars later, I plan to give all guests who visit my house over the next few weeks a small jar of tomato paste as a parting gift.

MONEY

There are no ATMs or banks linked to the international banking system in Liberia. That means no Visas, Master Card, Barclays, or any other bank card will get you cash if you stick the piece of plastic in a Liberian ATM. It’s all EcoBank, all the time.

I’ve been trying to get my bank at home to wire money to my EcoBank account. This isn’t easy. I have to fax them a form. There aren’t a lot of working fax machines in Liberia. Since that technology is based on land lines (which there aren’t) and became vogue in a tech era of yore (when Liberia was at war), this is difficult. My boyfriend found one, and faxed the form. The bank won’t accept it because it was a scan, and not a fax. I’m not sure how that happened.

Finally, through only slightly duplicitous means, we got money into our EcoBank account here. I went to the bank yesterday to withdraw. The bank’s computer system was down.

TRANSPORTATION

There isn’t really public transportation in Liberia in any sort of organized way. You can flag down a yellow taxi (literally a falling apart four door small vehicle), squeeze in the back where four people always sit, or in the front, where two people sit next to the driver, and pay about 5 LD for a ride (that’s Liberian Dollars equivalent to about eight American pennies). But, there aren’t enough taxis in town and you might wait up to an hour to catch a ride which may or may not take you where you need to go, since there are also no set taxi routes.

A ride in a private taxi costs $5. That’s about 71 times as much money. There are only a handful of guys who I call regularly for rides, and if they aren’t around, I’m out of luck.

I looked into renting a car for the time I’ll be here. I told a guy who knows a guy that I wanted to spend $400 – 600 per month. He seemed outraged that I was offering only $13 or $20 a day! I told him that I didn’t want to rent it by the day, I wanted to rent it by the month, and I would rent it for several months.

He said that price was too low per day. Right.

I had such a great time doing the UNICEF project, that it’s almost hard to go back to regular work that doesn’t involve just hanging out with awesome young women.

But, such is life. I’ve got some Reuters and IRIN stories in the pipeline, a bit of commentary on Liberia living coming up as my next post, and then I’ll be offline early next week doing another photo contract, this time for Merlin.

And readers and other bloggers, thanks to all of your for such positive feedback on the Liberian Girls project. Here’s hoping for a critical mass demanding more even handed stories from Africa.

I worked with UNICEF on a project about Liberian girls for several weeks. I’ve already posted about Ruth, Janice, Joseta and some portraits, and this is the final piece about the workshops. You can also see all of the photoson www.glennagordon.com.

Read more about UNICEF’s project “I have something to tell you.”

All of the young women who participated in the workshop were identified by schools and other organizations as leaders in their communities. Putting them all in one room meant they had the opportunity to learn on each other and reflect on their dreams, challenges and past.

I’ve been working with UNICEF on a project about Liberian girls for the past few weeks. Last week, I posted about Ruth, Janice, and some portraits, and later this week, I’ll post the final piece about the workshop. All of the photos are already up on www.glennagordon.com.

Read more about UNICEF’s project “I have something to tell you.”

Joseta Neufville is one of the top students in her class. She is best friends with Janice.

She credits her success to her supportive family. She’s the youngest of four brothers and two sisters, all of whom were encouraged by their father to study hard and work harder.
She carries a purple Ipod Nano and wears red satin heals even on the most pot-holed of roads. Her determination and flair light up a room and sometimes she smiles even when she’s supposed to be serious.

Her room is filled with dozen of tshirts, tens of shoes, and innumerable hair clips. She is never under dressed, but she’s also got more than fashion going for her.

Here, with her sister, a nurse, Joseta discusses how she wants to be a lawyer. Law, she says, is the best way to bring justice to a country desperately in need of the rule of law.

Joseta’s mother runs her own catering company in town.

She’s not ready to grow up, but almost.

I’ve been working with UNICEF on a project about Liberian girls for the past few weeks. On Tuesday, I posted about Ruth, and yesterday some portraits, and over the next view days, I’ll put up photos and text about Joseta and the workshop. All of the photos are already up on www.glennagordon.com.

Read more about UNICEF’s project “I have something to tell you.”

Photos are of Janice at work, school and youth group. Text refers to when she addressed the workshops sponsored by UNICEF.

“My name is Janice and I’m hurting.”

This is how Janice Pratt begins addressing her peers. She’s a slight girl with a strong voice that says to anyone willing to listen: I’m going to be someone.

She continues: “There are ten great girls right in this room with dreams. Will they ever turn into reality or are we just dreaming?”

Janice is 19 going on 25. She’s mature and composed, well spoken and ambitious. Clearly she was endowed with gifts of intellect and curiosity but what’s amazing is that these qualities flourished even in war-torn Liberia. There have been more years of war than years of peace during her brief life. But that hasn’t stopped her.

During the two decades of war in Liberia, more than a million people were displaced, and an unknown number died during the fighting, disease, malnutrition, and other obstacles that aren’t limited to the frontlines.

“My greatest dream of all… is to have a world free of wars, hunger, killing, where everyone is someone.”

In Liberia, it’s especially hard for girls to achieve their dream. Rape is endemic, females are almost always second to men, and the brunt of poverty is borne by women.

That hasn’t stopped Janice. She understands constraints, but has hope anyway.

“Even if we just be right here,” she says, pausing, “And we just dream and it never comes to pass, that’s okay.”

When Janice isn’t in school, or in youth group, she works on a radio show that promotes positive sexual health messages for young men and women throughout Liberia who wouldn’t otherwise have a source of information that’s accessible and targeted. When she isn’t doing that, she dreams of being a filmmaker or a journalist or the second female President of Liberia.

“The world has enough riches to go around for everyone,” she continues. For a girl who has over come financial constraints in a country where school fees cost the good part of most people’s annual income, Janice still has unbridled optimism.

She wrote down a few lines on a sheet of paper she’s gripping tightly, but now she’s not looking at the paper. She’s speaking from her heart. She starts crying, and so do some of the girls listening.

That’s okay too. Janice adds, “There’s nothing wrong in dreaming.”

I’ve been working with UNICEF on a project about Liberian girls for the past few weeks. On Tuesday, I posted about Ruth, and over the next view days, I’ll put up photos and text about Janice, Joseta, and the workshop. All of the photos are already up on www.glennagordon.com.

Read more about UNICEF’s project “I have something to tell you.”

I’ve been working with UNICEF on a project about Liberian girls for the past few weeks. I’ll post a lot of the photos here over the next view days, so check back often. All of them are already up on www.glennagordon.com.

Ruth Dureng wants to be a reverend and a doctor. A Reverend Doctor, Rev Dr. Dureng. She doesn’t feel the limit of choosing among careers – she wants it all. And when she smiles, anyone near by couldn’t help but want to give it to her. Especially because when her smile breaks, you understand how much has been taken away from her.

Ruth was abused and forced out of her house when she refused to become to the second wife to her aunt’s husband. She left home and has the strength to speak out. In a culture where women are shamed for saying no, or shunned when they are the victims of sexual violence, Ruth’s strength and perseverance are an outlier, but also an example of hope and pride for other girls.

“Your ‘no’ can save and protect generation unborn,” she says. “I stood up to protect my pride, you can do the same, no matter what the case is. Stand up. Life is better, live it positively.”

Pink stuffed animals, blond baby dolls and silk flowers seem almost out of place in Ruth’s new bedroom when she slips on heels and a head scarf, and walks out of the house like a force of nature.

“I’m living on my own by the grace of God,” she tells a group of girls who have all had to make their way through similarly challenging circumstances. Some have had it better than others and some worse, but none easy. Liberia’s two decades of civil war, violence and strife left no one in this small country untouched.

The odds are stacked against her and other girls: almost half of Liberian girls marry and bear children before age 18 and few attend school. Ruth has already beat these odds. Three out of five women in Liberia can’t read, and married women often believe that it’s okay for men to beat women.

When Ruth left her house, she left behind illiteracy, domestic abuse, and an end to schooling. She embraced her future and is ready to advocate for other girls.

“I have a dream that one day this great nation, Liberia, will be free of guns, violence, domestic abuse, and sexual exploitation,” she says.

When Ruth sings, along with the other girls, I have overcome, she sings the words to sing, but also to remind herself.

She has overcome.

At a safe house for teenage girls in a Monrovia suburb.