Mohammed: Being American

Shot on film

That day, I stepped out for a quick walk, hoping to catch a bit of sun before it slipped away again. I brought my Olympus XA2—just in case. I wandered the neighborhood aimlessly and eventually found myself back on Coney Island Avenue, ready to head home. A couple of blocks away, I noticed a man attaching an American flag to the back of his bike. I knew I had to talk to him.

I walked over and asked if he’d be open to chatting while I took a few photos. He agreed, so I got right to it—asking about the flag. He told me he’s had it for a long time and always keeps it with him. As we talked, he worked methodically with duct tape and a small metal tube, trying to fasten the flag securely. I could already picture it fluttering behind him as he weaved through traffic.

His name was Mohammed. He delivers for Uber Eats, but I’d caught him in front of his cousin’s shop, taking a moment to get his ride ready. We talked a bit about photography—he was curious why I’d be out in the middle of the day taking pictures of strangers. I told him I’m drawn to these everyday moments, the quiet life unfolding in my community. No glamour. Just… being. Mostly, I do it because I love it.

Before I knew it, I had to head back to work. I left before I could ask the question that had been sitting with me: why the flag? I had my own thoughts—about what it means to fly that flag when you’re brown, when you speak with an accent. But I’m holding onto the hope that I’ll run into him again, and he’ll tell me himself.