Women Talk is a monthly conversation between a member of Women Photograph and Kerry Manders. This month is Malin Fezehai — a Swedish-Eritrean photographer based in New York, NY, USA.

Bio. Offer us a short, snappy (not-copied-from-your-website or any publication), fun biography. Who are you?

I was raised in an immigrant neighbourhood in Stockholm, where I grew up with a Swedish mother, an Eritrean father, and an Egyptian stepfather. I have always had this sense of feeling a little out of place because I never had one cultural identity. I believe this is one of the reasons I gravitate toward displaced communities in my work. The feeling of otherness is something I feel very connected to. There is also a strong possibility that I might just be a little bit of a misfit.

Beginning. Do you remember the first time you picked up a camera? The first picture you took? Tell us a story about your beginning.

When I was in high school, I took a photo class, and for one assignment, I photographed my friend's little sister. It was a foggy morning, and on our way back home, she had tripped and started crying. My friend picked her up and I snapped a picture of them walking on the road back home. That image was taken on black and white film and looked very timeless. After that moment, I was obsessed with photography.

The wedding of an Eritrean couple, who came to Israel as refugees, is celebrated in Haifa. There are around 50,000 African asylum seekers in Israel, mostly from Eritrea and Sudan.

Becoming. Can you identify when you first started calling yourself a photographer —when you felt comfortable naming yourself as such? How did you morph from someone who takes pictures to “photographer”?

I never felt conflicted about calling myself a photographer, so I don’t remember when it happened. Saying that you are a photographer can mean so many things. Other labels like “artist” are more uncomfortable for me, and I have a harder time relating to that for some reason. Nowadays, though, I do much more than take pictures: I spend more time creating visual presentations, and I develop interactives using videos, photos, and text. Therefore, in the last two years, I have switched from calling myself a photographer to calling myself a visual journalist. What that means exactly is something that I am still trying to define.

Being. What are you working on now? Where? How? Why?

Last week I launched a project with UNDP about Lake Chad, which stretches across Nigeria, Cameroon, Chad, and Niger. 2019 marks the 10th year of the Boko Haram insurgency that has displaced nearly 2.5 million people in the Lake Chad Basin. This summer, I traveled to all four countries to create a visual presentation about the region. I used a drone for the first time because I felt it was essential to show what the lake looks like from above. Then I combined aerials clips with portraits of people who live there. I also really enjoyed the process of working with a designer and a web developer to create the site. You can see the final result here.

Blown-away. Show us the last image that completely took your breath away (contemporary or historical—depending on where you’ve been looking). What do you love about it?

This still image from the film The Last Black Man in San Francisco, directed by Joe Talbot, took my breath away. For me, it shows a kind of tenderness between men that I think is rarely shown. I love their facial expressions and the window light. The cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra did a beautiful job in this film, and every scene is like a visual poem.

Blur. Boundaries are tricky business. Can you tell us a story about the blurring of them—about the sometimes complicated ethics of photography?

It can be hard, but it’s important to explain who you are and what you are doing, and then people can make a choice to participate or not. It’s equally important for you to decide how involved you want to be with the people you photograph, so there are no misunderstandings. It’s a part of our jobs to get intimate access, but you shouldn’t get it by misleading someone.

Muazzez Kocek, standing outside her home in Kuşköy village in Turkey.

Burden. What are some of the difficulties or challenges of being a woman who photographs?

Everyone knows there is a gender discrepancy in photojournalism, and I do see things slowly changing, and editors are making an effort to hire more women. But when it comes to the more significant or more long-term assignments, most are still assigned to men. It’s the more challenging and more extensive projects that will make photographers evolve and grow. So, the kinds of assignments female photographers undertake are equally important.

When I started in photography a decade ago, the majority of the photographers I met who were working internationally were white men. I learned a lot from some of them because they held space in way I would never have thought of doing, but I also understood quickly that they were taken more seriously because they were the norm, and I didn’t fit into any box, and a lot of my work doesn’t fit into one box, either. I was just a bit too unfamiliar, and maybe some of that comes with the territory of being different or looking different, but then I have also been told things that bothered me at the time: I once lost a gig because the client said that I “was too attractive and would be too much of a distraction for the subject.” In my early 20s, an older photographer told me I shouldn’t get into photography—that I should just “marry a rich man.” At a portfolio review, I was asked if I felt more racially white or black. This confused me, because the question had nothing to do with the work I was showing. At times it has felt like an uphill battle, but for female photographers just starting out, I would just say do not to let it take up too much of your headspace, because doing documentary work in itself is very demanding. Remember that not everyone is going to understand you or what you are trying to do, and that is okay.

Priests on the wall surrounding the Saint Miriam church. About 70,000 pilgrims come to to Lalibela for Ethiopian Christmas on the 7th of January every year.

Balance. When you are not photographing, what are you doing that keeps you grounded? What (else) do you do for fun?

It’s easy for me to get lost in other people’s stories and at times I have neglected my own life, but I do take breaks from working and photography. I have started traveling for myself and not only for my work. Right now, I am on a small island in the Philippines, where I am doing yoga and surfing. Physical activity grounds me.

Best. What is the best advice you have to offer someone reading this?

Just be you, learn to hold your space—this might take you on a longer journey, but then you will arrive where you are trying to go as yourself.

Attah Modu, an IDP living in a camp in border town of Ngala, Nigeria. She has been living in the camp for over a year after Boko Haram attacked her village.

Beyond. Tell us about a future project or challenge that you hope to tackle. (Feel free to answer this question literally or figuratively).

Right now, I kind of feel like a blank page entering the new year. I have some projects that I am finishing up in East Africa, but overall, I am not sure what projects I will dive into next. I always say finding a project is kind of like falling in love. It can be all-consuming, and at the moment I am just charging my batteries to be ready for what comes next.

Malin Fezehai: malinfezehai.net // @malinfezehai
Kerry Manders: kerrymanders.com // @kerrymmanders