Upworthy's book GOOD PEOPLE, now available - take a look!

Shop
 Explore 

st paul minnesota

An artist gathered immigrants' photos and stories then hung them for the city to see.

When you think of American diversity, you might think of big melting-pot cities like New York or Los Angeles. The truth is, people of all nationalities are woven into the fabric of American life across the entire country; from small towns to midwest metros and everywhere in between.

To celebrate its own immigrant roots, the city of St. Paul, Minnesota, recently commissioned a public art project called "Speaking of Home," featuring photos from many of the diverse citizens that help make the city what it is today.

Artist and photographer Nancy Coyne sought out dozens of first-generation immigrants who call St. Paul home.

Those who participated in the project loaned their own photos and prized possessions from their home countries to the exhibit. Through interviews with Coyne, they shared what brought them to America and to St. Paul. Their photos and stories are now on proud display around the city.

Coyne shows off the project. Photo by David Turner, used with permission

"I became interested in what 'home' means to people," Coyne says, of the interviews. Some told her they came for a better education. Some for economic opportunity. Others to find long lost family. Others still came to escape persecution in their home countries.

There were as many reasons for immigrating as there were nationalities, with St. Paul having a surprisingly diverse ethnic makeup; including over 13,000 Ethiopian and 26,000 Vietnamese residents in the Twin Cities, along with one of the largest Hmong populations in the country.

58 photos in total, and the stories behind them, now line a portion of St. Paul's famous skyways.

St. Paul features miles of enclosed skyways. Photo by David Turner used with permission.

These elevated, enclosed bridges cover miles of the city and allow commuters to escape the cold. Thousands of people traverse the skyway each and every day.

Thanks to the 10-feet wide, partially translucent photos, anyone who enters the skyway can't help but to literally see St. Paul through the eyes of its immigrants.

At night the photos are even more prominent. Photo by Peter Von De Linde used with permission.

The photos cover four bridges in total. Photo by Peter Von De Linde, used with permission.

The project couldn't have launched at a more important time.

In recent months, we've seen travel bans, ruthless immigration raids, and a rise in a hateful brand of nationalism. It's almost as if we've forgotten America was quite literally built by immigrants.

"The situation we find ourselves in now goes against everything this country is and was supposed to be about," Coyne says.

The project has been a big hit so far. Photo by Peter Von De Linde used with permission.

"Speaking of Home," has been well-received by the thousands who walk St. Paul's skyways each and every day.

Passersby often stop to consider the photos and read the accompanying stories. Each photo is paired with a bright orange sign that juts from the wall: It says "home," in the subject's native language.

[rebelmouse-image 19531715 dam="1" original_size="1200x801" caption=""Home." Photo by Peter Von De Linde, used with permission" expand=1]"Home." Photo by Peter Von De Linde, used with permission

"People want to know if it will stay up forever," Coyne says. It won't. The project is only scheduled to last about six months.

But the people at its core aren't going anywhere. They will continue to fill the city, to drive its economy, to shape its culture.

St. Paul will continue to be their home.

A stranger raised his voice and threw a middle finger her way. Patience Zalanga froze.

This was not the first time someone had reacted violently to her presence. And it likely wouldn't be the last.

Zalanga is a badass photographer.

A black woman and long-term resident of St. Paul, Minnesota, Zalanga recently moved to the St. Louis metro area. But when she heard about the shooting of Philando Castile, she hopped in a car and went back home.

Not just to mourn. Not just to protest. But to stand side by side with her community, and celebrate strength in blackness without apology.

Naturally, she brought her camera, too.

All photos by Patience Zalanga, used with permission.

Zalanga has worked as a photographer for the last four years. But she didn't always use her camera for activism.

"It wasn't until two years ago, when Ferguson happened, that I decided to use my camera for ... purposes other than taking head shots," she said.

Zalanga arrived in Ferguson about a week before the grand jury announced their findings. During that first visit, she said, she was too worried for her safety to bring her camera.

"I was really scared that [the police] would confiscate my camera ..." she explained, "I was really worried ... I would be a target."

Eventually, she returned home to Minnesota. But hours after she got home, the grand jury announced they would not indict Officer Darren Wilson in the shooting death of Michael Brown.

Zalanga and her friends were watching it on the news when they decided they should go back. And this time, Zalanga took her camera, too. She wanted to document the real action — the stuff no one was seeing on the news.

Over time, Zalanga has become bolder and more confident about her storytelling.

She's gone from not bringing her camera at all to standing on the front lines of the action to record history.

"When I take pictures, it's so weird, but white men just have this track record of them getting up in my face and being super bold," Zalanga said. "I'm [5 feet 2 inches] ... and I only have a camera, that's the only weapon I have on me. And yet they feel very, very compelled to intimidate me with their bodies, with their language."

The man you read about at the beginning of this piece got upset when Zalanga started taking pictures at an impromptu demonstration at a hair salon. She says he jumped out of his chair and immediately got in her face.

"In that moment, my heart was racing. Everything went in slow motion," she said.

But while the experience felt lonely, Zalanga wasn't alone.

"All of a sudden, I had 10 black people surrounding me," she says. It was the other demonstrators, standing by her side. As always, her community had her back.

Now, Zalanga sees herself as an activist as well as a photographer.

"When I made the decision to start documenting, at first I was doing it for everyone," she said. "But I feel like through my photography ... my style has somewhat changed, and it's definitely more ... centered on black people."

She often shoots in black and white to draw parallels between the contemporary struggles of black Americans and the civil rights movement of the 1960s.

"For me, it's important to shoot in black and white because it really forces you to pay attention to the subject and what's happening."

The photos here were taken in July 2016 during protests outside the Minnesota Governor's Mansion in St. Paul.

While residents and community members were decidedly heartbroken about the death of Philando Castile — "There was a lot of frustration, a lot of rage, and a lot of anger," Zalanga said — events at the mansion have been altogether peaceful.

And for Zalanga, capturing these moments in the movement is more than a passion or a profession — it's a duty to humankind.

She hopes her work will serve as an archive, capturing not just moments of pain and struggle, but celebration and joy. Through her work, Zalanga says she is signal boosting a narrative we all need to hear.

"That's the main reason why I do what I do," she said. "I'm really curious about what pictures are going to be put in history books," she said.

And we can all do our part to pay attention, really listen, and share the stories and images coming out of places where this movement is taking shape every day. History is happening right this minute, and we can all do our part to ensure traditionally underrepresented voices are at the center of it.