The Many Mysteries of Al Sharpton
It’s Wednesday morning, the first day of Al Sharpton’s National Action Network convention, and D’Juan Collins is telling me how the state took his son and won’t give him back. A slight man in a linen button-down and a Bluetooth earpiece, Collins is passing out flyers with a baby photo of his son Isaiah and a plug for his site, www.SaveIsaiah.com. Isaiah, now seven, was put into foster care in 2007, when Collins was sent to prison. When I ask what he was sent in for, he demurs. The conviction was overturned last year, he says, but Brooklyn Family Court and the foster care agency have declined to return custody of his son.
He has come here, to Sharpton’s annual civil rights confab, to get help. “I’m all about networking,” Collins explains, “because I can’t do this alone.”
If the Reverend Al Sharpton has a nexus of power, it is here, in the sweaty third-floor ballroom of the Sheraton Times Square, where more than 6,000 activists have assembled to talk shop at panels with titles like “American Holsters: How the Gun Won,” “The Role of Media in Crafting the Social Narrative,” and “Truth to Power Revival.” Outwardly, the annual civil rights hoedown is an essentially political event, a display of the influence Sharpton has aggressively cultivated over three decades in the national spotlight. But the convention is also a yearly pilgrimage for people, like Collins, who have been beaten by the system, screwed by insidious and structural racism that has stacked the deck against them. Because Al Sharpton, in addition to being a syndicated radio host, prime-time MSNBC talking head, and personal friend of the president, is still the guy you call when your kid gets shot.
Everyone I meet on Wednesday has a story. One woman at the conference tells me she’s here for the first time this year because her nephew was killed in Harlem last week, and she wants to “talk to the reverend about gun control.” Another spends the morning passing out yard signs that read: “My Civil Rights Were Violated.”
In some circles, Sharpton is considered ridiculous—a 90s race-riot relic turned smug cable-news hack. It’s easy to forget that he is probably the most powerful civil rights leader in the country, and a political kingmaker whose influence is evidenced by the parade of liberal pols who drop by his conference every year to pay their respects. New York Mayor Bill de Blasio was on hand Wednesday, as was Attorney General Eric Holder and New York Governor Andrew Cuomo. President Obama is headlining Friday.
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The Many Mysteries of Al Sharpton

It’s Wednesday morning, the first day of Al Sharpton’s National Action Network convention, and D’Juan Collins is telling me how the state took his son and won’t give him back. A slight man in a linen button-down and a Bluetooth earpiece, Collins is passing out flyers with a baby photo of his son Isaiah and a plug for his site, www.SaveIsaiah.com. Isaiah, now seven, was put into foster care in 2007, when Collins was sent to prison. When I ask what he was sent in for, he demurs. The conviction was overturned last year, he says, but Brooklyn Family Court and the foster care agency have declined to return custody of his son.

He has come here, to Sharpton’s annual civil rights confab, to get help. “I’m all about networking,” Collins explains, “because I can’t do this alone.”

If the Reverend Al Sharpton has a nexus of power, it is here, in the sweaty third-floor ballroom of the Sheraton Times Square, where more than 6,000 activists have assembled to talk shop at panels with titles like “American Holsters: How the Gun Won,” “The Role of Media in Crafting the Social Narrative,” and “Truth to Power Revival.” Outwardly, the annual civil rights hoedown is an essentially political event, a display of the influence Sharpton has aggressively cultivated over three decades in the national spotlight. But the convention is also a yearly pilgrimage for people, like Collins, who have been beaten by the system, screwed by insidious and structural racism that has stacked the deck against them. Because Al Sharpton, in addition to being a syndicated radio host, prime-time MSNBC talking head, and personal friend of the president, is still the guy you call when your kid gets shot.

Everyone I meet on Wednesday has a story. One woman at the conference tells me she’s here for the first time this year because her nephew was killed in Harlem last week, and she wants to “talk to the reverend about gun control.” Another spends the morning passing out yard signs that read: “My Civil Rights Were Violated.”

In some circles, Sharpton is considered ridiculous—a 90s race-riot relic turned smug cable-news hack. It’s easy to forget that he is probably the most powerful civil rights leader in the country, and a political kingmaker whose influence is evidenced by the parade of liberal pols who drop by his conference every year to pay their respects. New York Mayor Bill de Blasio was on hand Wednesday, as was Attorney General Eric Holder and New York Governor Andrew Cuomo. President Obama is headlining Friday.

Continue

Here’s an exclusive VICE preview of new work by one of VICE’s favorite photographers, Jaimie Warren. It’s from her second show at The Hole, which opens tonight.

Here’s an exclusive VICE preview of new work by one of VICE’s favorite photographers, Jaimie Warren. It’s from her second show at The Hole, which opens tonight.

munchies:

How to Juice
Legendary Cro-Mags frontman John Joseph schools us on how to make a proper juice and smoothie.

munchies:

How to Juice

Legendary Cro-Mags frontman John Joseph schools us on how to make a proper juice and smoothie.


Neil Winokur’s still life photos of New York City’s most iconic objects

(Source: Vice Magazine)

Neil Winokur’s still life photos of New York City’s most iconic objects

California Dreamin’

Photos by Nick Sethi taken inside that Hollister on Broadway

We ate goat penis with America’s one percent.

vicenews:

Bed-Stuy’s Volunteer Ambulance Service
Brooklyn’s Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood is well past the notoriety it had in the 1980s and 1990s, when the area was neglected and crack dealers violently ruled the streets. Back then, two men began providing much needed help to their underserved community. The Bed-Stuy Volunteer Ambulance Corp was founded in 1988 by Captain James “Rocky” Robinson, an EMS tech, and Specialist Joe Perez. Rocky is still at the helm today, 26 years later, training a new generation to follow in his footsteps. With the community now much safer and better served, he has changed the BSVAC’s original mission of saving lives to changing lives — helping young men and women who may not have any other options receive free training and eventually find jobs in the medical field. 
Watch the video

vicenews:

Bed-Stuy’s Volunteer Ambulance Service

Brooklyn’s Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood is well past the notoriety it had in the 1980s and 1990s, when the area was neglected and crack dealers violently ruled the streets. Back then, two men began providing much needed help to their underserved community. The Bed-Stuy Volunteer Ambulance Corp was founded in 1988 by Captain James “Rocky” Robinson, an EMS tech, and Specialist Joe Perez. Rocky is still at the helm today, 26 years later, training a new generation to follow in his footsteps. With the community now much safer and better served, he has changed the BSVAC’s original mission of saving lives to changing lives — helping young men and women who may not have any other options receive free training and eventually find jobs in the medical field. 

Watch the video

Fresh Off the Boat – NYC

In Part 1 of Fresh Off the Boat - NYC, Eddie travels north to the Bronx, where he and WorldStarHipHop star Loopy hit up local bodegas, chow down on a Japanese-Dominican platano mashup disaster, and talk about holdin’ down the hood over mani-pedis.
Watch

Fresh Off the Boat – NYC

In Part 1 of Fresh Off the Boat - NYC, Eddie travels north to the Bronx, where he and WorldStarHipHop star Loopy hit up local bodegas, chow down on a Japanese-Dominican platano mashup disaster, and talk about holdin’ down the hood over mani-pedis.

Watch

Robert Mapplethorpe - Early Polaroids, 1970–1975

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