SOUTHERN RITES

American photographer Gillian Laub (b. 1975) has spent the last two decades investigating political conflicts, exploring family relationships, and challenging assumptions about cultural identity. Her work frequently addresses the experiences of adolescents and young adults in transition who struggle to understand their present moment and collective past.
In 2002, Laub was sent on a magazine assignment to Mount Vernon, Georgia, to document the lives of teenagers in the American South. The Montgomery County residents Laub encountered were warm and polite, both proud of their history and protective of their neighbors. To the photographer, Mount Vernon, a town nestled among fields of Vidalia onions, symbolized the archetype of pastoral, small town American life. Yet this idyllic town was also held hostage by a dark past, manifesting in the racial tensions that scar much of American history. Laub learned that the joyful adolescent rites of passage celebrated in this rural countryside – high school homecomings and proms—were still racially segregated.
Laub photographed Montgomery County over the following decade, returning even in the face of growing—and eventually violent—resistance on the part of some community members. In 2009, a few months after Barack Obama’s first inauguration, Laub’s photographs of segregated proms were published in the New York Times Magazine. The story brought national attention to the town and the following year the proms were finally integrated. The power of the photographic image served as the catalyst and, for a moment, progress seemed inevitable.
Then, in early 2011, tragedy struck the town. Justin Patterson, a twenty-two-year-old unarmed African American man–whose segregated high school homecoming Laub had photographed–was shot and killed by a sixty-two-year-old white man. At first, the murder seemed to confirm every assumption about the legacy of inequality and prejudice that the community was struggling to shake. But the truth was more nuanced than a quick headline could telegraph. Disturbed by the entrenched racism and discrimination that she encountered, Laub recognized that a larger story needed to be told. Her project, which began as an exploration of segregated high school rituals, evolved into an urgent mandate to confront painful realities.
Relying on her incisive and empathic eye as a photographer, she explored the history of Montgomery County and recorded the stories and lives of its youth. What emerged over the next decade—during which the country witnessed the rise of citizen journalism and a conflagration of racially motivated violence, re-elected its first African American president, and experienced the formation of the Black Lives Matter movement—was a complex story about adolescence, race, the legacy of slavery, and the deeply rooted practice of segregation in the American South.
In Southern Rites, Laub engages her skills as a photographer, filmmaker, storyteller, and visual activist to examine the realities of racism and raise questions that are simultaneously painful and essential to understanding the American consciousness. Through her lens and the voices of her subjects we encounter that which some of us do not want to witness, but what is vital for us to see. Southern Rites is a specific story about young people in the twenty-first century from the American South, but it poses a universal question about human experience: can a new generation liberate itself from a harrowing and traumatic past to create a different future?
The exhibition is organized by the International Center of Photography and ICP curator Maya Benton.

The feature length documentary film, Southern Rites, follows photographer Gillian Laub as she returns to the community in Georgia where she documented segregated proms that garnered national attention when her photographs were published in 2009. The proms are now integrated; but in the aftermath of a fatal shooting of a young black man and in the midst of a heated local election, the community still grapples with issues of race that extend well beyond the senior prom. Directed/produced by Laub and executive produced by acclaimed musician John Legend, the timely documentary debuted in May 2015 on HBO.
As the divisive case unfolds, Laub also chronicles the campaign of police chief Calvin Burns to become Montgomery County’s first black sheriff eight miles away. Burns’ daughter, Keyke, who says Justin Patterson was her first love, works to elect her father, and is outspoken about the community’s racial divide.
Southern Rites features revealing interviews with people involved in both stories, who offer complex reflections on how well-worn racial lines may have informed the outcome of both events. The film closes as students prepare for a newly merged prom, capturing them happily dancing and celebrating together.
Laub explains, “I am hoping the film can start conversations that are really hard to have, but are necessary in order for us to move forward.” Executive producer John Legend, who lends a new song, “We Still Believe,” to the documentary, remarks, “By the end of the film, you see some sense that people might start coming together, so that gives me some hope.”

Southern Rites is an original and provocative twelve-year visual study of one community’s struggle to confront longstanding issues of race and equality. In May 2009, The New York Times Magazine published a photo-essay by Gillian Laub entitled, “A Prom Divided,” which documented Georgia’s Montgomery County High School’s racially segregated homecoming and prom rituals. Laub’s photographs ignited a firestorm of national outrage and led the community to finally integrate. One year later, there was newfound hope—a historic campaign to elect the county’s first African American sheriff, yet the murder of a young black man— portrayed in Laub’s earlier prom series—by a white town patriarch, reopened old wounds. Through her intimate portraits and first-hand testimony, Laub reveals in vivid color the horror and humanity of these complex, intertwined narratives. The photographer’s inimitable sensibility—it is the essence and emotional truth of the singular person in front of her lens that matters most—ensures that, however elevated the ideas and themes may be, her pictures remain studies of individuals; a chronicle of their courage in the face of injustice, of their suffering and redemption, possessing an unsettling power.
Southern Rites
Prom king and queen, dancing at the black prom, Vidalia, Georgia, 2009
Amber and Reggie, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2011
Last year, when we had the first integrated prom, I couldn’t go. I was in the hospital after a flare up from my sickle cell anemia. I was devastated that I missed out on history being made. Prom is everything around here in this small town.
—Amber
Shelby on her grandmother’s car, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2008
All these people who run around screaming that the Confederate flag is racist, they’re not stupid. They’re ignorant. Because ignorance is the absence of really knowing what happened. I am not going to hide it from nobody. If I want to show the rebel flag, I’m going to, because that’s my heritage.
—Shelby
Lacy, the black prom queen, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2008
Keyke and Kera in Dominique’s Personal Touch hair salon before the black prom, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2009
Harley getting ready for the white prom in the Cut-N-Up tanning and hair salon, Vidalia, Georgia, 2008
Seniors arriving at the first integrated prom, Lyons, Georgia, 2010
Niesha with her children, Vidalia, Georgia, 2011
It feels like way more than two years since I was prom queen. So much has happened. I was discharged from the military when I found out I was pregnant with Zoey. The proms finally integrated. But it’s like we take one step forward and two steps back.
—Niesha
Julie and Bubba, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2002
Bubba was my first love. We dated from eighth grade until my junior year in high school. Some friends started to tell me they couldn’t hang out with me anymore. That hurt, because they were my friends since kindergarten. And I didn’t think they were bad people, just scared.
—Julie
Sara Corbett / “A Prom Divided,” New York Times Magazine, May 21, 2009 / Featuring photographs by Gillian Laub
Angel outside the black prom, 2009
Last night we went to see all our friends at the senior walk, and after the father-daughter dance all the black kids were asked to leave. Yeah, that was upsetting. I am worried to talk about it because I don’t want to jeopardize my future here. I’ve heard it being said that it’s a white person’s game and you just have to learn to play it.
—Angel
Harley before the white prom, 2009
It’s always been segregated. It’s just what we know and what our parents have done for so many years. It’s not about being racist. We’re in the same classes, we eat lunch together, and sit at the same tables. It’s not about what color you are, it’s about your attitude, how you present yourself.
—Harley
Why try and fix something that’s not broken? Every year you have the kids that start planning for their prom and you have the black kids that start planning theirs. It’s fine having things the way it’s been done for however long. Leave it alone. We don’t want to change it.
—Anita (Harley’s mother)
Felicia after the black prom, Vidalia, Georgia, 2009
Qu’an and Brooke, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2012
Two years back, me and Brooke would never be able to go to prom together. It means things are changing. But I still can’t believe Justin’s gone. If I was him, I would’ve run too. We were raised that we are guilty until proven innocent and when you see a white man or cop with a gun, you run.
—Qu’an
Senior going to the white prom, 2009
Prom prince and princess dancing at the integrated prom, 2011
Sha’von, Justin and Santa, 2012
My brother Justin was my best friend. I looked up to him. It’s hard for me to talk about that night, but I’ll try. My brother was talking to this girl on Facebook that he knew. She and her friend invited us over to her house. We weren’t doing anything wrong. I guess we weren’t quiet enough because Norman woke up and the next thing I know he pulled my brother and me out of the room with a gun pointing at us. He said he could kill us and nobody would know. My brother would still be with me today.
— Sha’von
God is alive, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2010
Don’t let Satan trick you, Lyons, Georgia, 2013
Cemetery, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2010
Donna, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2010
Southern dreamer, Mount Vernon, Georgia, 2010
Public shaming, Vidalia, Georgia, 2013
I was [caught] urinating outside of a nightclub. I could either walk with this sign or go to jail. It’s humiliating, but better than being behind bars. We have to walk up and down the street for eight hours every day this week.
—Lourinza (in brown shirt)