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Nybé Ponzio
When did you first pick up a camera? What did you take photos of?
I first picked up a camera when I started traveling. When I returned to France and shared my experiences, my friends often didn’t believe me. I wanted a way to show them the reality of what I was living, and the camera became my proof of the real world I was experiencing. It started as a way to document my travels, but over time, it grew into a deeper passion for capturing the world around me and sharing stories through my lens.

What is your work deeply inspired by now?
My work has always been deeply inspired by the idea of community, but now I am focusing more on African identity, culture, and its symbolism. During an internship in Canada, a Haitian friend, Clifford Chérenfant, said something to me that profoundly resonated with me: “Nybé, you’re lucky. You have the ability to trace back your ancestors and history through your surname. I don’t have that chance because my last name, Chérenfant, was given to my ancestors by a slave master.”
That conversation made me realize how important it is to reconnect Afro-descendants to Africa through the shared history that binds us. But beyond that, my work also aims to help Africans themselves reconnect with their own identity and heritage. Many aspects of African culture have been overlooked or undervalued due to historical and external influences. Through my photography, I seek to highlight, celebrate, and reclaim these cultural elements, encouraging Africans to take pride in their rich and diverse heritage. In Africa, a surname defines one’s ethnicity, and this connection to identity is something I want to explore and highlight through my work.

Does your childhood or where you grew up have a strong influence on the images you like to share?
Yes, absolutely. My childhood and where I grew up have had a huge influence on the images I like to share. I was born and raised in France, in a new town near Disneyland Paris, where both of my parents worked. Growing up in that world of animation and entertainment definitely stimulated my creativity.
At the same time, it was an environment with very few African communities, and I experienced racism firsthand. That reality shaped my perspective and strengthened my desire to challenge stereotypes and misconceptions about African cultures through my work. Photography became a way for me to reclaim narratives and showcase the beauty, diversity, and depth of African identities.

What has been the biggest lesson for you as a photographer? Especially with the images you create, which are so rich in culture?
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned as a photographer is the power of storytelling and the responsibility that comes with representing cultures. My work goes beyond aesthetics; it’s about preserving history, reclaiming narratives, and creating a bridge between past and present.
I’ve realized that every image I create carries weight; it shapes perceptions and contributes to a collective memory. Especially when documenting African identity and cultures, I’ve learned the importance of research, respect, and authenticity. It’s not just about capturing moments but understanding their depth and significance. Photography has taught me patience, empathy, and the value of listening to the stories behind the images.
Photography is also a powerful tool for unity and social cohesion. It fosters a sense of togetherness, bringing people closer through shared narratives and cultural appreciation. Beyond reconnecting Afro-descendants with their African identity, it also plays a crucial role in helping Africans reconnect with and value their own heritage. By visually reclaiming and celebrating our cultural wealth, photography helps redefine who we are and strengthens our collective sense of belonging.

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{
"title" : "Nybé Ponzio",
"author" : "Nybé Ponzio",
"category" : "interviews",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/nybe-ponzio",
"date" : "2025-05-06 13:38:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/DSC01688.jpg",
"excerpt" : "When did you first pick up a camera? What did you take photos of?",
"content" : "When did you first pick up a camera? What did you take photos of?I first picked up a camera when I started traveling. When I returned to France and shared my experiences, my friends often didn’t believe me. I wanted a way to show them the reality of what I was living, and the camera became my proof of the real world I was experiencing. It started as a way to document my travels, but over time, it grew into a deeper passion for capturing the world around me and sharing stories through my lens.What is your work deeply inspired by now?My work has always been deeply inspired by the idea of community, but now I am focusing more on African identity, culture, and its symbolism. During an internship in Canada, a Haitian friend, Clifford Chérenfant, said something to me that profoundly resonated with me: “Nybé, you’re lucky. You have the ability to trace back your ancestors and history through your surname. I don’t have that chance because my last name, Chérenfant, was given to my ancestors by a slave master.”That conversation made me realize how important it is to reconnect Afro-descendants to Africa through the shared history that binds us. But beyond that, my work also aims to help Africans themselves reconnect with their own identity and heritage. Many aspects of African culture have been overlooked or undervalued due to historical and external influences. Through my photography, I seek to highlight, celebrate, and reclaim these cultural elements, encouraging Africans to take pride in their rich and diverse heritage. In Africa, a surname defines one’s ethnicity, and this connection to identity is something I want to explore and highlight through my work.Does your childhood or where you grew up have a strong influence on the images you like to share?Yes, absolutely. My childhood and where I grew up have had a huge influence on the images I like to share. I was born and raised in France, in a new town near Disneyland Paris, where both of my parents worked. Growing up in that world of animation and entertainment definitely stimulated my creativity.At the same time, it was an environment with very few African communities, and I experienced racism firsthand. That reality shaped my perspective and strengthened my desire to challenge stereotypes and misconceptions about African cultures through my work. Photography became a way for me to reclaim narratives and showcase the beauty, diversity, and depth of African identities.What has been the biggest lesson for you as a photographer? Especially with the images you create, which are so rich in culture?One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned as a photographer is the power of storytelling and the responsibility that comes with representing cultures. My work goes beyond aesthetics; it’s about preserving history, reclaiming narratives, and creating a bridge between past and present.I’ve realized that every image I create carries weight; it shapes perceptions and contributes to a collective memory. Especially when documenting African identity and cultures, I’ve learned the importance of research, respect, and authenticity. It’s not just about capturing moments but understanding their depth and significance. Photography has taught me patience, empathy, and the value of listening to the stories behind the images.Photography is also a powerful tool for unity and social cohesion. It fosters a sense of togetherness, bringing people closer through shared narratives and cultural appreciation. Beyond reconnecting Afro-descendants with their African identity, it also plays a crucial role in helping Africans reconnect with and value their own heritage. By visually reclaiming and celebrating our cultural wealth, photography helps redefine who we are and strengthens our collective sense of belonging."
}
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{
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"author" : "Collis Browne",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/100-years-of-genocidal-intent",
"date" : "2025-10-07 18:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/1920-jerusalem.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Every single Israeli prime minister, president, and major Zionist leader has voiced clear intent to erase the Palestinian people from their lands, either by forced expulsion, or military violence. From Herzl and Chaim Weizmann to Ben-Gurion to Netanyahu, the record is not ambiguous:",
"content" : "Every single Israeli prime minister, president, and major Zionist leader has voiced clear intent to erase the Palestinian people from their lands, either by forced expulsion, or military violence. From Herzl and Chaim Weizmann to Ben-Gurion to Netanyahu, the record is not ambiguous:{% for person in site.data.genocidalquotes %}{{ person.name }}{% if person.title %}<p class=\"title-xs\">{{ person.title }}</p>{% endif %}{% for quote in person.quotes %}“{{ quote.text }}”{% if quote.source %}— {{ quote.source }}{% endif %}{% endfor %}{% endfor %}"
}
,
{
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"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/dignity-before-stadiums",
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"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_Cover_Morocco_GenZ.jpg",
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"content" : "No one expected a generation raised on smartphones and TikTok clips to ignite a spark of protest shaking Morocco’s streets. But Gen Z, the children of the internet and speed, have stepped forward to write a new chapter in the history of uprisings, in their own style.The wave of anger began with everyday struggles that cut deep into young people’s lives: soaring prices, lack of social justice, and the silencing of their voices in politics. They didn’t need traditional leaders or party manifestos; the movement was born out of a single hashtag that spread like wildfire, transforming individual frustration into collective momentum.One of the sharpest contradictions fueling the protests was the billions poured into World Cup-related preparations, while ordinary citizens remained marginalized when it came to healthcare and education.This awareness quickly turned into chants and slogans echoing through the streets: “Dignity begins with schools and hospitals, not with putting on a show for the world.”What set this movement apart was not only its presence on the streets, but also the way it reinvented protest itself:Live filming: Phone cameras revealed events moment by moment, exposing abuses instantly.Memes and satire: A powerful weapon to dismantle authority’s aura, turning complex political discourse into viral, shareable content.Decentralized networks: No leader, no party, just small, fast-moving groups connected online, able to appear and disappear with agility.This generation doesn’t believe in grand speeches or delayed promises. They demand change here and now. Moving seamlessly between the physical and digital realms, they turn the street into a stage of revolt, and Instagram Live into an alternative media outlet.What’s happening in Morocco strongly recalls the Arab Spring of 2011, when young people flooded the streets with the same passion and spontaneity, armed only with belief in their power to spark change. But Gen Z added their own twist, digital tools, meme culture, and the pace of a hyper-connected world.Morocco’s Gen Z uprising is not just another protest, but a living experiment in how a digital generation can redefine politics itself. The spark may fade, but the mark it leaves on young people’s collective consciousness cannot be erased.Photo credits: Mosa’ab Elshamy, Zacaria Garcia, Abdel Majid Bizouat, Marouane Beslem"
}
,
{
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"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/a-shutdown-exposes-how-fragile-us-governance-really-is",
"date" : "2025-10-01 22:13:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_Cover_Gov_ShutDown.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Each time the federal government shutters its doors, we hear the same reassurances: essential services will continue, Social Security checks will still arrive, planes won’t fall from the sky. This isn’t the first Governmental shutdown, they’ve happened 22 times since 1976, and their toll is real.",
"content" : "Each time the federal government shutters its doors, we hear the same reassurances: essential services will continue, Social Security checks will still arrive, planes won’t fall from the sky. This isn’t the first Governmental shutdown, they’ve happened 22 times since 1976, and their toll is real.Shutdowns don’t mean the government stops functioning. They mean millions of federal workers are asked to keep the system running without pay. Air traffic controllers, border patrol agents, food inspectors — people whose jobs underpin both public safety and economic life — are told their labor matters, but their livelihoods don’t. People have to pay the price of bad bureaucracy in the world’s most powerful country, if governance is stalled, workers must pay with their salaries and their groceries.In 1995 and 1996, clashes between President Bill Clinton and House Speaker Newt Gingrich triggered two shutdowns totaling 27 days. In 2013, a 16-day standoff over the Affordable Care Act furloughed 850,000 workers. And in 2018–2019, the longest shutdown in U.S. history stretched 35 days, as President Trump refused to reopen the government without funding for a border wall. That impasse left 800,000 federal employees without paychecks and cost the U.S. economy an estimated $11 billion — $3 billion of it permanently lost.More troubling is what happens when crises strike during shutdowns. The United States is living in an age of accelerating climate disasters: historic floods in Vermont, wildfire smoke choking New York, hurricanes pounding Florida. These emergencies do not pause while Congress fights over budgets. Yet a shutdown means furloughed NOAA meteorologists, suspended EPA enforcement, and delayed FEMA programs. In the most climate-vulnerable decade of our lifetimes, we are choosing paralysis over preparedness.This vulnerability didn’t emerge overnight. For decades, the American state has been hollowed out under the logic of austerity and privatization, while military spending has remained sacrosanct. That imbalance is why budgets collapse under the weight of endless resources for war abroad, too few for resilience at home.Shutdowns send a dangerous message. They normalize instability. They tell workers they are disposable. They make clear that in our system, climate resilience and public health aren’t pillars of our democracy but rather insignificant in the face of power and greed. And each time the government closes, it becomes easier to imagine a future where this isn’t the exception but the rule.The United States cannot afford to keep running on shutdown politics. The climate crisis, economic inequality, and the challenges of sustaining democracy itself demand continuity, not collapse. We need a politics that treats stability and resilience not as partisan victories, but as basic commitments to one another. Otherwise, the real shutdown isn’t just of the government — it’s of democracy itself."
}
]
}