I’m thrilled to share that my photography was featured in BmoreArt’s latest article, covering this year’s Rise Bmore concert.
It’s my first time being published in BmoreArt, and I couldn’t be more honored. Huge thanks to the magazine and to writer Gabriella Souza for capturing the spirit of the event so thoughtfully.
I’m especially grateful to Judah Adashi for trusting me year after year to help visually document this deeply meaningful gathering. Rise Bmore continues to be one of the most powerful expressions of love, memory, and protest in Baltimore — and I’m proud to play a small part in it.
Benjamin Jancewicz is an American and a proud speaker of the Naskapi language. PHOTO: RADIO-CANADA / SHUSHAN BACON
If you’ve been following my work or journey for a while, you know how much Kawawachikamach means to me. This piece, written by journalist Shushan Bacon for Radio-Canada, captures a part of my story—how I came to speak the Naskapi language, why it matters so much to me, and what it feels like to belong deeply to a place that doesn’t show up on my passport. I’ve translated the article below so my English-speaking friends, supporters, and readers can read it too.
From Benjamin to “Binchibin”: An American Among the Naskapi By Shushan Bacon | Radio-Canada Espaces Autochtones
Benjamin Jancewicz is one of those people you might come across in Kawawachikamach, the only Naskapi community in the world. Like the vast majority of its residents, he speaks Iyuw Iyimuun. And yet, he’s an American from Baltimore—not even a Canadian citizen. Though he comes from south of the border, it’s in Kawawachikamach where he feels most at home.
During the last trip to Schefferville by the Espaces Autochtones team to cover the 2024 Elders Gathering, this non-Indigenous photographer moved through the crowd, chatting with people in Iyuw Iyimuun (pronounced “ee-you-ai-mun”).
Despite his undeniably Caucasian features, he blends into the community as naturally as anyone. Everyone responds to him in Naskapi, the dominant language in this remote northern region.
People followed his directions in Iyuw Iyimuun as he photographed participants in the march commemorating the community’s fight against drugs and alcohol.
Group photography during the drug and alcohol march at the 2024 Seniors Gathering. PHOTO: BENJAMIN JANCEWICZ
Language Learning as a Responsibility
Benjamin Jancewicz grew up in the community of Kawawachikamach. His father, Bill Jancewicz, was a translator hired by the Band Council in the 1980s to help write a Naskapi language dictionary. In doing so, he also worked on translating the Bible.
Young Benjamin, whom the elders affectionately call “Binchibin,” was four years old when he arrived among the Naskapi. When his father visited elders daily to study and learn the Naskapi language, “I’d go with him,” Benjamin says.
David and Susan Swappie were among the elders his father frequently consulted. “Susan Swappie is my noohoom [my grandmother],” Benjamin explains. She often made him Naskapi hats, and despite her memory issues, she still remembers him.
Benjamin Jancewicz, Pentshamen, and his noohoom, Susan Swappie. She holds her Bible in the Naskapi language that Pentshamen’s father, Bill Jancewicz, translated. The wear of the cover shows his affection for his book. PHOTO: BENJAMIN JANCEWICZ
“Every time I visit her, she always holds my hand and doesn’t let go. To me, she’s like my grandmother. She is my grandmother. She treats me like I’m her grandson.”
Benjamin completed his entire schooling in Kawawachikamach. Learning the language came naturally, but today he considers it a point of pride—and even a duty—to keep the language alive by speaking it daily.
“For me, it’s the responsibility of white people to help—because we’re the ones who created this mess.”
According to the latest census conducted in 2021, only 530 people still speak Naskapi in Canada—and therefore in the world—a 29.3% drop since the previous 2016 census.
Susan Swappie tient toujours les mains de son petit-fils, Pentshamen, quand il lui rend visite, PHOTO : BENJAMIN JANCEWICZ
Caught in Immigration Limbo… Because of Language
At the moment, Pentshamen is back in Baltimore. As an American citizen, he’s required to return periodically. He’s been trying to obtain Canadian citizenship for three years, even though the rest of his family already holds it.
Back in the late 1990s, when the family applied together, “the government took seven years to process the paperwork. By then, I was already in the U.S. for university and had turned 18. They told my dad, ‘You have to remove your son from the application. He’s an adult, he’s 18.’”
Benjamin had to apply on his own. In the meantime, he finished his university studies in the U.S., got married, and had two children—who are now in university themselves. Since then, he’s divorced. But his goal was never to stay in the United States.
“I’m stuck here,” he says.
Ironically, the very thing preventing him from obtaining Canadian citizenship now is a language issue.
“The hardest part of the citizenship process for me is the French test. My French isn’t perfect. I have to pass a really solid French test to get citizenship. I told them, ‘I speak Naskapi and a bit of Innu,’ but they said that doesn’t count. Only French does.”
Every three or four months, Pentshamen returns to Kawawachikamach for about three weeks. He’s worked for the Naskapi Band Council for several years.
“I handle all their communications—website, Facebook, and I also design posters. They bring me in for special events like the Elders Gathering to take photos and videos to inform people locally and in neighboring communities who took part.”
Regardless of what his documents or immigration authorities may say:
“Kawawachikamach is my home,” he says without hesitation. “I love Kawawa. It’s home, and [the Naskapi people], they’re my people.”
Thanks again to Radio-Canada and journalist Shushan Bacon for taking the time to listen and share my story. If you’d like to learn more about the Naskapi language or community, or follow along with my work up north, feel free to subscribe or check out my latest journal entries.
In June 2023, the internet was taken by storm at the news that the Titan submersible, an experimental project by OceanGate, had gone missing on a trip to the Titanic wreckage. For four days, there had been no communication with the vessel and the search and rescue turned into a recovery mission. It was determined that during the mission, the Titan submersible had imploded, killing all five passengers inside, including OceanGate founder Stockton Rush.
This September, the U.S. Coast Guard began the public hearing investigating the disaster. Each testimony by ex-employees, directors and engineers reveals new and disturbing details that show just how corrupt the company was. As the investigation continues to unfold, the Titan disaster should be a sobering reminder of the indolence and hidden workplace politics that put people at risk every day.
Anyone working on the submersibles at OceanGate would have been able to recognize that the Titan mission was doomed to fail. Whether they were willing to admit it, though, was a different question. According to testimonies by ex-employees, the Titan had experienced a plethora of development issuesleading up to the disaster. From equipment issues to irresponsible storage practices, it was clear that the Titan was not fit for the mission. Former engineering director, Tony Nissen, recognized these issues and did his due diligence, refusing to sign off on a mission to the Titanic wreckage. Soon after, Nissen was fired. He is just one of many engineers and team members that challenged the OceanGate founder and were silenced.
OceanGate CEO Stockton Rush email exchange with Submersible Operations Expert (Rob McCallum) pic.twitter.com/XYQuoX4ryR
— Benjamin Young Savage (ᐱᓐᒋᐱᓐ) (@benjancewicz) June 26, 2023
The workplace politics at OceanGate are not the only failure that took the lives of the five passengers. Former director of machine operations, David Lochridge, was bold enough to bring his safety concerns to the Occupational Safety and Health Administration after he was fired. Despite promises by OSHA to investigate the company and involve the Coast Guard, nothing came from their inquiries except for a lawsuit and agreement for Lochridge effectively barring him from filing any more complaints. OSHA and other safety agencies failed to do their jobs and did not take seriously the complaints that Lochridge brought up.
Since OceanGate was a private deep-sea exploration company operating outside of territorial waters, they were not required to obtain certifications or safety checks before operating the Titan. OceanGate was able to bypass all safety requirements in the name of engineering and money-generation.
The lack of regulations on submersibles and private companies combined with the failure of safety organizations and responsible individuals underscores a problem we know all too well. There are far too few regulations on all companies that are responsible for human lives here and abroad. The regulations that exist are too full of loopholes and clauses that render them ineffective. Because of these two conditions, OceanGate was the perfect breeding ground for workplace politics that prevented any kind of complaint that might impact their reputation. Even for upstanding employees who valued safety, their efforts were useless.
Far too many companies in recent years have been responsible for outbreaks of illnesses and putting lives at risk. The citizens of America and the world deserve to know that the products and services they enjoy have been properly regulated and investigated. They deserve to know that safety issues are not being buried and hidden away from public knowledge. The greed and indolence of individuals must not overrule our regulatory systems. After all, it was greed and indolence that led five people to a death sentence and a watery grave.
Photo Benjamin Jancewicz, photographe pour la nation Naskapis de Kawawachikamach
From August 26 to September 4, about fifteen communities gathered for a total of about 500 people. The dean of the group is from the community of Pakua-Shipu. Her name is Henriette Vollant, and she is 92 years old.
There are 170 tents erected on the site. Each community has a kitchen, and people cook three meals daily for the elderly. They live without water or electricity but can access the internet thanks to Sichun, an internet service company of three communities, the Naskapi, Matimekush/Lac-John, and Uashat mak Mani-utenam.
The Gathering of Elders is an annual activity of the Innu and Naskapi nations. This year’s novelty is the integration of the Atikamekws, whose participation is the first for them. They are represented by 37 people from the three Atikamekw communities.
“I am very happy to be here; I love the openness and brotherhood we have here with the Innu and the Naskapis,” says Hervé Ottawa, a companion of the Wemotaci community.
These nations can speak about their concerns and aspirations for generations to follow. Joyce Echaquan’s event unites them.
“Many people talk to me about what is happening in each of their communities, in their respective hospitals; they live from discrimination,” says Debby Flamand, organizer of the trip.
The annual Gathering of Elders, held in Kawawachikamach this year, honors the memory of Innu politician and pioneer Alexandre McKenzie, who passed away in May. For over 25 years, this event has brought together hundreds of Aboriginal people from Quebec and Labrador to celebrate seniors and the transmission of Aboriginal culture.
The Ka Mamunuiitananuch cultural site, situated between Schefferville and Kawawachikamach, was transformed for the occasion with the installation of over 150 tents and shaputuan to host the event’s activities, running from August 26 to September 4. The Gathering features songs, dances, craft workshops, and discussion circles focused on mental health, substance abuse, bereavement, traditional medicine, and caribou.
In addition to cultural celebrations, the Gathering serves as a platform for remembering Alexandre McKenzie’s legacy, especially his work in promoting Aboriginal traditions. The event features performances by Innu artists, with the group Maten from Mani-utenam closing the event. Nearly 350 participants arrived in Kawawachikamach via the Tshiuetin train, which connects Schefferville and Sept-Îles, with the Tshakapesh Institute—founded by McKenzie—helping fly in several elders to attend.
This year’s event welcomes delegations from the Cree and Atikamekw nations for the first time, along with dignitaries, families, and young people. Students from Jimmy Sandy Memorial Elementary School in Kawawachikamach also performed a traditional dance show. Next year, the Gathering will be hosted by Mashteuiatsh in Lac-Saint-Jean.
The Ka Mamunuiitananuch cultural site has been developed to accommodate more than 300 people. Photo by Benjamin Jancewicz
The annual gathering of the Innu Nation’s 2024 seniors is taking place for the first time in Naskapian land. The event opened this Tuesday morning with a tribute to the late Alexandre McKenzie, from Matimekush.
About 300 people from nine Innu communities in Quebec and two in Labrador landed yesterday by train and plane in the Schefferville area for this large gathering. It also hosts a delegation of the Atikamekw Nation. The chefs and several other leaders join the festivities.
Many conferences, training workshops, religious ceremonies, discussion tables and shows are on the program over 10 days. Each year, the gathering offers opportunities for reunion and to reconnect with certain traditions.
175 tents on an exceptional site
The organizers chose the cultural site of Ka Mamunuiitananuch, in the middle of nature. This burnt forest site is particularly special, with easy access to water and the forest that is starting to grow back. Bushes loaded with blueberries, tea and medicinal plants abound around the site.
The Elders gathering has been organized for a month. More than 175 tents have been set up, with several amenities for the comfort and safety of the Elders.
This is the 28th Gathering of Seniors, which will continue until September 4. The 2023 one took place at Unamen Shipu in Basse-Côte-Nord.
BALTIMORE (WBFF) — Baltimore City Firefighters saved a victim from a residential fire in Southwest Baltimore on Monday, according to the department.
The department says at approximately 3:30 p.m., Baltimore City Firefighters battled a working dwelling fire in the 4200 block of Potter Street in Southwest Baltimore. Units arrived on the scene to find fire and smoke conditions coming from the first floor of this location. Firefighters performed a scene assessment and 360-degree observation and performed an interior attack on the fire. While performing search and rescue operations firefighters located a victim inside the dwelling. The victim was secured by firefighters and removed to the exterior where they are being cared by paramedics at the scene.
Fire officials say while battling the fire, firefighters identified holes in the floors of the structure that could create unsafe conditions. The incident commander ordered an evacuation of the structure to assure the safety of firefighters. At this time there have been no reports of injuries to any firefighters.
The Simcoe Gentlemen of Harmony returned victorious from the Ontario District Barbershop Competition in Belleville earlier this month.
The 34-member chorus won the provincial title, and one of four quartets they entered won in the novice division.
“The quartet of ours that won are called What Song Are We Singing,” said chorus member George Anger. “They were nervous but didn’t show it much on stage. They sang two pole cat songs – songs known by all barbershop choruses throughout the world – My Wild Irish Rose, and Sweet and Lovely.
Members of the winning novice quartet are Benjamin Jancewicz, Alan Daly, Les Komaromy, and Terry Pond.
The Simcoe Gentlemen of Harmony also were presented the trophy as the top performer in Plateau 3, while member John Deacon received the Sandy Bell Chapter Leader of the Year Award for his work at both the Simcoe Chapter and Ontario District level.
The Simcoe Gentlemen of Harmony has existed for over 50 years, and currently are directed by Derek Stevens, along with Robert Ross as assistant director.
“Our director has only been with us for a few years, and he decided that we were doing really well with these two songs,” Anger said. “’Let’s take them to provincial and see what we can do’, he said.
“It’s a lot of work to put in for six minutes on stage,” he noted. “But it’s worth it in the end.”
The men-only group sings every Tuesday evening at Old Windham Church in Simcoe.
“We would love for more guys to come out and join us,” said Anger. “We’d love to make it 50 (voices) again.”
The Simcoe Chapter draws members from London, Brantford and Niagara and performs at community fundraising events and special church services.
Hiring a diverse police force may change what cops look like, but it doesn’t change what policing means and does.
After a white cop fatally shoots someone, prison reformers often suggest hiring more Black cops or more women. But diversifying the police force won’t end police violence, and neither will milquetoast reforms that have been tried and tried again.
Benjamin Jancewicz, a Baltimore-based abolitionist, points out that around 62 percent of the American police force is white, and around 85 percent of cops identify as male. But that lack of representation is not where the issue of policing lies. Jancewicz asserts that police have an established culture of “oppression and dominance” that does not change even when the force has more women or BIPOC officers. “Baltimore,” he points out, “has a 40 percent Black police force” which has not affected the “already established culture of corruption and brutality.”
In 2015, Freddie Gray died in police custody after being brutalized by Baltimore cops, and the police violence and misconduct in Baltimore hasn’t ended there. This is because a system will not and cannot reform itself, especially “when you dump more money and more personnel into it,” according to Jancewicz.
How do we know when a reform is actually going to funnel more money and power to the prison-industrial complex? In an interview with Truthout, Sarah Fathallah, an Oakland-based abolitionist, points to a Critical Resistance framework that helps to determine if a proposed reform “is an abolitionist step that works to chip away at the scope and impact of policing, or a reformist reform that expands its reach.”
The framework guides us to look at reforms critically and ask: Does the proposal reduce funding to police? Does the proposal challenge the notion that police increase safety? Does the proposal reduce the tools, tactics and technology police have at their disposal? And does the proposal reduce the scale of the police?
When it comes to hiring more police officers as an attempt to diversify, we can immediately see that this reform will not lessen the scope of the prison-industrial complex.
Instead, Fathallah says, “Hiring more diverse cops often expands the funding and bodies police departments have at their disposal.” Fathallah saw this firsthand in Oakland, where the City Council voted to approve a police academy in September 2021, citing “discrepancies between the gender and racial makeup of the police compared to communities” to justify the need to hire even more cops.
Focusing on the identities of the police who are committing violence actually prevents us from taking aim at the real issues. Fathallah rightfully points out that these pushes for gender and racial diversity frame “police brutality and murder as individual issues to solve” while reinforcing the “‘bad apples’ narrative of policing, that the police are harmful because of individually blameworthy and racially biased police officers.”
Pushing this narrative is imperative for those who seek to preserve the existing power structures, because it wrongly suggests that huge social problems are actually the failures of individuals, rather than structures.
The violence and cruelty of the prison-industrial complex has been well-documented since its inception, and public consciousness is reflecting this reckoning. More and more people are becoming increasingly critical of the prison-industrial complex. In the summer of 2020, this criticism came to a head with the protests against police violence after the killings of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. Brutal police violence and the horrors of incarceration never stop, but when examples of them are catapulted onto the national stage, people want answers and solutions.
Because policing and incarceration are inherently violent and racist institutions, prison-industrial complex abolitionists have been working to dismantle them in the hopes of creating a safer and more just world. Without the prison-industrial complex, abolitionists argue that we can divert resources to life-giving resources and services, rather than death-making institutions.
Prison-industrial complex reformers and preservationists generally argue that the system is “broken” — that it has problems that are ultimately solvable, but that maintaining its existence is imperative for public safety. The truth is that the prison-industrial complex is functioning exactly as it is meant to; its creation was never intended to provide justice, but instead it was born of the desire to maintain white supremacy and racial capitalism. When we reframe our understanding of the prison-industrial complex, it becomes clear that it is accomplishing its intended purpose.
In this context, it becomes clear that reforms, such as hiring more Black cops or more women cops — as well as proposed changes like bans on private prisons, body cams on cops and requiring that police verbally warn before shooting — will never solve the problem of police violence.
While police violence can be enacted by individual officers due to racial bias, it is not limited to that. Fathallah says it is also (if not more so) “the outcome of intensive over-policing and systemic criminalization of racialized poverty,” meaning diverse hires will not stop violence.
When concerned people focus on reforming the police and removing the so-called bad apples, policing is able to continue existing in much the same way. Fathallah mentions the phrase “preservation through transformation,” coined by Professor Reva Siegel that describes the phenomenon wherein a violent institution shifts and changes just enough to remain legitimate in the eyes of most.
Hiring diverse cops changes who is doing policing and what the police look like, but it doesn’t change what policing is. And it certainly doesn’t change the fact that the system is actually functioning exactly as it was designed to do.
The only way to stop police violence is to abolish the police. “Policing itself is a form of violence,” says Fathallah, “and violence is a fixture of policing, not a glitch in its system.” Once we acknowledge that truth, then we can see that no reform will change what police are and what they were created to be: protectors of a white supremacist state, of racial capitalism and of private property.
Baltimore City Health Department’s communications director Adam Abadir (left) and contract graphic designer Benjamin Jancewicz (right.) —Photography by Matt Roth
Using memes, GIFs, and evocative infographics, the duo aims to combat COVID misinformation and boost vaccinations.
For Adam Abadir, beginning his new job just weeks before the arrival of COVID-19 was like a rookie athlete being thrown into the World Series.
“If I had known a pandemic was on the horizon,” he quips, “I probably would have at least changed my salary request.”
Ironically, a year and a half later, Abadir, communications director for the Baltimore City Health Department—with contract graphic designer Benjamin Jancewicz—has created a campaign that’s become, well, viral.
Using memes, GIFs, and evocative infographics, the duo’s clever initiative to both combat COVID misinformation and boost vaccinations has not only garnered national acclaim but also changed the status quo for how health departments interact with their residents in the age of social media. The zany graphics are meant to turn often insipid harm-reduction messages into something “a little bit funny, kind of quirky, and sort of subversive,” says Abadir.
Enter “MIMOSAS WITH THE GIRLS? YOU STILL AREN’T VAXXED, DEBRA!” That was one of Jancewicz’s first offerings, which features a generic stock image of an antagonized man arguing with a brow-furrowed woman. “I laughed when I saw it,” recalls Abadir, and the internet did, too.
The meme became one of their early hits on social media, particularly via the department’s Twitter account, @BMore_Healthy. Encouraged by its success, they went on to create “Salad Connor,” “Ginger Ale Derrick,” and “Green Tea Trina,” sending the message that: no, none of those “healthy” things cure COVID. They have since garnered tens of thousands of likes, thousands of comments, and shoutouts from major news outlets including the BBC, NPR, and The Washington Post.
The inspiration for each meme comes from feedback via the department’s frontline staff, from community ambassadors to infectious disease specialists. (In the case of “Mimosa Debra,” for instance, contact tracers had noticed an uptick in unvaccinated people contracting the virus over brunch.) And each message is fact-checked and vetted before being unleashed into the world.
Despite drawing much attention to their campaign, the guys behind the memes want to remind people that they are just a tiny part of what the country’s oldest continuously running health department has to offer, with some 800 employees, from school nurses to environmental enforcement officers, working to keep the city safe.
“The Baltimore City Health Department is staffed by some of the smartest people in the world,” says Abadir. “We are much more than just memes.”