"People ask me why I focus on this and not the pretty stuff ... Til my people not dying anymore, my heart is with them" / An interview with Akintola Hanif

{liberatormagazine.com exclusive feature}

{images via Akintola Hanif}

We first talked with Akintola "Hyze" Hanif in 2006 (Liberatormag 5.2). We recently caught up with him again and he's still handling business.

"I am always chasing that divine and insightful image" says Hanif, the brainchild behind Hycide magazine. Admirers of Hanif know that his images carry a divine energy. The subjects of his photographs, society's outcasts -- gang bangers, young lesbians, former crack addicts, shed the traditional layers of depravity and assume an almost regal presence in his photographs. A visual blessing of sorts, his photographs dance between a celebration of oft-ignored greatness and a litany for understanding. "Understanding is necessary for progression" he says. "I just wanted to do my part to share the hearts and intentions of the dispossessed, marginalized, the have-nots who I just see as beautiful at their core" Hanif humbly comments.

As such, it is of no surprise that this past June, Hanif and his team launched Hycide magazine. Hycide, derived from the Hebrew "Hyram" meaning "noble" or "exalted and -cide from the Latin "cida", for killing, Hycide is founded on the practice of "killing or negating elitist ideals to create empathy and understanding for the disenfranchised or dispossessed." Conceptually born in 2005 and physically manifested in 2011, Hycide magazine is blossoming and planting seeds for international collaboration.

Before Hycide magazine took form, Hanif was airbrushing and painting murals on the walls and storefronts in New York City. Born to an herbalist and "renaissance man" in Brooklyn Heights, Hanif was introduced to the world of graffiti at age 9 in 1981. Within a few short years, Hanif went on to have one of his murals is featured in Henry Chalfant’s 1985 book "Spraycan Art" garnering him the position as a young and talented artist. "I ran into a graffiti writing dude who happened to be a criminal but turned out to be my best friend named Wolf. He gave me the name Hyze, H-Y-Z-E which later turned into Hycide" he reminisces. As the interview continues, Hanif sketches a few graffiti tags on his yellow legal pad. "When I was 28, I went back and got my degree in Visual Communication. I took a photography class and rediscovered my passion for photography" he remembers. Even though he had stacks of photo albums in his home and always carried a camera around, he never imagined photography as an actual career. That all changed, "when I started playing with depth of field and aperture and how to freeze action, I was just in love." This love was translated into the inaugural edition of Hycide.

The 52-page perfect bound magazine features several stories including Black Hiroshima, a commentary on lingering effects of the 1980s crack epidemic; That Wave, a single portrait of mysterious Ghost aka G-Man who asserts, "I'm Muslim but I'm also a gangbanger"; Lou Grab, a memorial for Hanif's friend Luis Rivera Jr; and Steel & Velvet, iconic photographs from Jamel Shabazz. One story in particular grabbed my attention. Hycide's first issue features a photo essay on urban lesbians who call themselves Aggressives, an emerging subculture of mainly lesbians of color who may otherwise be considered "studs" or "butch". Hanif's closely cropped portraits delicately illustrate both strength and vulnerability all while disrupting the parameters of normative gender. These images not only tell us about the young women -- Kirah, Mikyah, and Chink Hef; they also tell us about ourselves. "We usually see each other through the flaws in our own egos and insecurities, rather than for what's in our hearts and intention," Hanif asserts. As such, Hycide's mission goes beyond a platform for the "neglected and misunderstood"; Hycide magazine is also a mirror. A mid-section shot displaying sagged jeans, tattooed arms, a studded belt, and a large jewel encrusted necklace that reads "Brick Squad", forces the viewer to confront that which they see versus that which they expect to see.



Intrigued by his conversations and Dee Ree's film Pariah, he excitedly shares that "this is turning into a whole book and film project" documenting the entire spectrum of urban lesbian identities. Given Hanif's desire to build Hycide as an international publication, a collaboration with photographer Zanele Muholi of South Africa seems apropos. Describing her work as "mapping and archiving a visual history of Black lesbians in post-Apartheid South Africa", Muholi's shots are intimate and private portraits of Black lesbians in love. Hanif's images, while intimate in a more public way still illustrate his ability to quickly build relationships with the people he photographs.

Maybe there is something in his demeanor and physical presence that naturally calms those around him. When he speaks, he is gentle, but deliberate. Standing at over six feet tall, his presence is not overbearing but protective. He makes an effort to maintain steady eye contact and nothing is entangled in subtext as he speaks. These elements are all essential. However, Hanif's ability to effortlessly travel through different communities, communities that have legitimate reason to distrust the media is rooted in one core principle: no judgment.

"I want to tell the stories in objective way because most people are overly judgmental due to lack of understanding" Hanif says. I push him a bit on this. "How is it possible not to be judgmental?" "Is objectivity elusive and illusory?" I wonder. "Honestly," he responds, "I may be guilty of that at times but when I am really thinking clearly and not reactionary, I don't do that because I know I am not that much different." "I am only a check away from being in the same situation" he continues. He finds that people hasten to judgment because they imagine infinite degrees of separation between them self and the person they are interacting with. Let Hanif tell it, "those degrees of separation are basically non-existent". Hycide's mission is to help people see those "common denominators" and "common threads". One common thread is the pursuit of freedom.

In a 2005 mixed-media piece "Freedom of Everybody Dies", Hanif blended 500 still photographs and 3 minutes of video footage of the now defunct Arcadian Gardens or "The Bity", a housing project in East Orange, New Jersey. The title left nothing to the imagination. Very bluntly, Hanif warns, "if we don't do something to help everybody have the same level of freedom, it's going to come back to kill us or our children". He leans in a bit and with a delicate but urgent tone says, "if we are not given the equal opportunity to do something different and ride the same wave that the more fortunate are allowed to ride then the less fortunate will kill themselves, literally or figuratively and in turn kill those closest to them, literally or figuratively". We stand at a crossroads.

Back in my Bay Area hometown of East Palo Alto, a town of 30,000 people, young men are being gunned down everyday. My cousin was shot and killed in Los Angeles a year ago. My old students lost a family member almost every month. Hycide is a magazine, but it has the power to be more than just a magazine. In the same way that Jamel Shabazz's photographs are a "visual medicine", Hycide has the potential to give voice to not only the suffering that goes unnoticed, but potential solutions. Right now, Hycide is solely a magazine however, in ten years, Hanif imagines, "Hycide everything -- Hycide books, Hycide films. The empire will be complete."

Before leaving his Newark studio, Hanif leaves me with a final thought. "I think I've said this before, but I am really passionate about this", he reminds me. He continues "You know, people ask me why I focus on this and not the pretty stuff." Hanif's cadence intensifies. "I always say because our children and my people are dying. While we're running around being fancy, you know, and fly, and trying to be all sophisticated and cute, my people are dying. That's what I am seeing around me." He slows his cadence, ending with the commitment, "so until I don't see that anymore, my focus is right here. Til my people not dying anymore, my heart is with them."