It’s 7am in a trailer park in Clinton, Missouri. Photographer Ingetje Tadros stands amidst the detritus of broken televisions, discarded furniture and rusting cars that are features of the park’s unkempt landscape. Dogs are barking hysterically. Suddenly a trailer door swings open spilling light into the gloom silhouetting a man in his early twenties. “Shut the fuck up!” he screams. Tadros catches his eye. “Who are you?” he snarls. “Who are you?” she replies boldly in English that is heavily laced with her native Dutch accent. She steps forward and introduces herself.
Taking Country away from people is akin to spiritual genocide says photojournalist Ingetje Tadros who spent over six months in Kennedy Hill, a remote Aboriginal community in Western Australia.
It’s a world the rest of Australia would never know existed. Photojournalist Ingetje Tadros spent more than six months in Kennedy Hill, a remote Aboriginal community in Western Australia, documenting the lives of its residents.
When I walked into the room, I did not see a room. It was a cage and in that cage was a human being that had been stripped of her wings, her voice, her humanity. The first feelings that came to me as I entered this room, this cage, this holding pen, was that in the corner was another human—but one who was caged in many ways, mentally and physically.
