Welcome to Split Screen

In my regular column, I'll look at the ways images shape perception.

Official White House Photograph by Lawrence Jackson

By Azza Cohen

In 2016 and again in 2024, a woman ran for president of the United States. Both times, these women were the most qualified person in history to do so. Both times, these women lost. What gives, America?

Welcome to Split Screen. I’m Azza Cohen, a filmmaker and writer who had the ridiculous honor and privilege of serving as Vice President Kamala Harris’s official videographer and director of video in the White House. Before the White House, I’ve had all sorts of experiences in “the film industry” – from spending hours literally sorting blue m&ms into a specific bowl per an actor’s request, to finding a live snake (and snake wrangler, and snake insurance) for a music video, as requested by the director just hours before a scheduled shoot. I’ve held a camera steady in a moving rickshaw in India, following a galloping horse in California, and with a chollo cactus needle stuck in my foot in Arizona.

But my first and most formative experience making moving images was interning for a documentary film about gender discrimination in Hollywood, directed and produced by men. When I asked the director if he’d consider co-directing with a female director, he told me it would be “tokenizing” to hire a female director for her gender. When I sent him a list of potential cinematographers for a shoot on a different film, he told me, "This is a list of women." I replied, "It's a list of cinematographers." I was 23.

I have spent far too long witnessing and experiencing the outright misogyny and subtle sexism of the film and media industries. As I stood backstage preparing to film my boss concede the 2024 election, my heart shattering for her, I knew I had to tell my story -- not just of what it was like to be the first female official videographer to the first woman vice president, but to interweave these cinematic and societal systems that keep women from achieving the highest office here in the United States. I knew I had to do this – for me, for my little sister sobbing in the audience, for all the little girls who looked up in awe at this woman, who for 107 days last summer, carried the weight of the patriarchy on her shoulders.

What is the connection between the film industry and the 2024 election? I’m so glad you asked. The way in which people are framed on camera is, of course, a technical decision – and it is also a political one. The angles, the light, the color, the white balance, the pans and the tilts. All of these small choices add up quickly to tell viewers how they ought to feel about the person being photographed or filmed. A low angle tells you this person is tall, therefore powerful. A crowd shot says this person is surrounded by others, compelling. A perfect exposure tells you this person looks good and belongs in the spotlight.

In contrast, a high angle tells you that this person is small, do not take them seriously. A close up tells you this person is alone, isolated. For a person of color, overexposure tells you this person’s skin color is not being considered, and it’s therefore not important.

Believe me, I’m the first person to admit that nailing every shot on the road is hard work, and I do not claim that every image I created of Harris was perfect. Many of mine were accidentally shaky, underexposed, unfocused.

HOWEVER.

On the road with Kamala Harris, I tried my best every single day to make sure she was filmed with dignity and respect. And every single day, I saw how others framed her. I noticed the sexism of camera operators and photo editors, of journalists and TikTok creators. I noticed it happen to so many women, especially other female world leaders.

In the wake of 2024, a lot of us are asking how? Why? Again? I’m here to co-create this column with you, readers, who I imagine are full of hope and rage just like me. If you want an outlet for the moments you see a woman being mistreated by the cameras around her, let this be it.

Every other week in this column, I’ll call out a contemporary or historical instance of visual sexism. I’ll dissect the image from my technical perspective as well as the broader political and cultural context. My hope is that together, by calling out visual sexism (most of it is genuinely accidental or a consequence of exhaustion/bad lighting/difficult geography), we can reframe women in politics and all public spaces. Together, we can shift the narrative so the next woman has a fairer shot at the Oval Office.

Send me the visual sexism you’re seeing to submit@contrariannews.org with the subject line SPLIT SCREEN.

Azza Cohen (she/her) is an award-winning documentary filmmaker who served as Vice President Kamala Harris's official videographer in the White House. She recently founded a production company with her wife, Kathleen, and is writing a book about visual sexism from a cinematographer's perspective. Uncover and address visual sexism alongside Azza every other week here on The Contrarian and on Instagram and Bluesky.

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