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What is it about witnessing death that is so alluring to so many?The unfortunate outcome of the democratization of digital technology is that the visual appetite for violence is regularly satisfied with images of atrocity.The auto-play of Sterling’s death didn’t miss a beat; it was as though the 46-second clip was for my eyes only. Two cops tackled him, he was on the ground, what else did they want from him?

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Healthcare providers noted Kodi was in “good condition” from his non-life-threatening wounds, but said nothing of the emotional wounds of witnessing his mother being murdered by the men in blue.

Gaines had instilled vigilance toward police behavior in her child, directing him to be the sole videographer during the traffic stop. , which began in 1988, sparked a continental conversation about images and historical trauma.

Godard’s larger project is arguing that cinema should be more like a visual newsletter than sheer entertainment: he uses mashup editing of classical cinema with journalistic photography, superimposing an image of Elizabeth Taylor smiling in is still a provocative one among artistic circles in Europe. Du Bois published images of lynching in the NAACP’s monthly journal, .

Just the idea of a collective discourse about this subject matter and its traumatic effect on the general public is a foreign concept to an American girl like myself. Whereas many anti-lynching activists in the early 20th century tried to conceal photographs, postcards, and other memorabilia of lynchings, Du Bois decided to expose the barbarism of white supremacy through the same visual medium that helped promote it.

The exploitation of black labor and genocide of indigenous people are the foundation of a country that refuses to atone for its sins.

Perhaps the only shred of symbolic truth behind the “great” America Donald Trump frequently alludes to is the blood red of his now iconic baseball cap. The psychological effects of witnessing black bodies being brutalized hasn’t helped put an end to this plague against a community, or even cultivate empathy within those in power.

To escape everyone’s 140-character observations I made my way to Facebook.

I’ve never craved the sight of my old high school classmates’ ramblings quite as badly as that Wednesday, but my feed had another idea. his shirt was red, but there was definitely blood trickling from his fresh chest wounds to the concrete.

Death has become an online commodity, and it has become a cancer to my virtual cosmos.

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