Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Shannon Collins. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Hi Shannon, thanks for joining us today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

Over the past two years, I’ve done some of my my most meaningful work as a photographer, parent, and educator. In April 2021, I founded Youthphoria in an effort to combine my previous experience as a Crisis Counselor at The Trevor Project with my photography background.

Youthphoria was an ongoing project photographing trans, nonbinary, and gender-expansive youth in the Philadelphia area at no cost, while providing an affirming experience that celebrated them along the way. Though the project recently wrapped, we raised over $30k thanks to the enthusiasm from our community and served 22 incredible participants who trusted us to share their stories.

I also donate my time as the co-founder and co-host of Rainbow Connections–a monthly, virtual meetup for LGBTQIA+ kids and allies (in K-5), in partnership with the Abington Township Public Library. As a nonbinary parent to a nonbinary child, it was important to me to co-create a space for elementary-aged children who are looking for community, whether locally or virtually.

As a nonbinary, queer, Autistic, and disabled person, I’ve been trying to educate others during my own journey of self-discovery. I aim to photograph joy as resistance along the way, whether at weddings, during portrait sessions, or during gatherings.

Shannon, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

I’ve been photographing weddings, families, and portraits in the Philadelphia area for +14 years. Prior to that, I received my BFA from Kutztown University of Pennsylvania, studying illustration. My love for color and composition landed me on a path to photography, after years of content management and Editor in Chief positions.

Philadelphia Magazine just named me Best Photographer for Best of Philly 2022, for my work as Founder and photographer of Youthphoria.

I’m committed to collaborating with marginalized communities and working to amplify the voices that too often go unheard — through their love stories and by normalizing the many ways joy can look. I like telling a genuine story, imperfections and all.

So many people reach out to me to let me know they’re awkward or shy in front of the camera. I want people to know that if you break out in a rash from nervousness, you are not alone. Or if you’re neurodivergent like me, things like forced eye contact or sensory overload might have led to traumatic photo experiences in the past. I’m here to make clients feel more at ease and ideally forget that I’m tucked away behind a bush somewhere while they spend time with their partner(s). I won’t force poses that don’t seem organic to who folks are as individuals. Instead, I allow moments to happen naturally, while letting clients lead the way and subtly guiding them—with their permission—into the best light and backdrops.

Planning a photo session should evoke excitement, not fear, but that is not always the case for those who are marginalized. My intentions as an affirming photographer are to reduce the amount of labor that my clients have to engage in. As someone who is disabled, I try to be really mindful when working with clients and putting accessibility to the forefront.

My brand values—which are displayed on my website—are at the core of what I do as a photographer and educator, and are always evolving as I grow. Also central to my business is my give back policy. Every month since March 2021, 10-40% of my gross income has been reallocated toward community care. I include the details of where that money is donated (how much and why) on my website, because I value transparency and accountability.

I live in the suburbs with my partner Pete and our two young kids. We also reside with a dachshund named Dexter and an 18-year-old chinchilla named Maude. When I’m not taking photos of people who love each other, I can be found overwatering my plants, trying to feel in control by creating checklists, watching an obscene amount of Bravo programming, connecting with community through Mighty Networks memberships, and listening to podcasts.

Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?

I’ve been asked “what happens if you get sick and you can’t photograph my wedding?” by potential clients dozens of times over the past 14 years. Years ago, I used to boast about how I’d never missed a wedding and even worked while having pneumonia a handful of times.

After perfect attendance for years, I found myself having a baby during peak wedding season, along with unexpected brain surgery two years later. This meant leaning on my network of photographer friends to pass the work along to them. I’ve always been incredibly transparent with clients, since so much of my business is sharing myself so we can build trust.

Recently, I had a call with a bride and we were chatting about the logistics of her upcoming microwedding. She asked if I’d ever missed a wedding for being sick, and I shared that I had to hand over some work to a dear friend, since I couldn’t lift anything for 6 weeks after my surgery. I have a back-up plan that has always made me feel secure, so I assured her that she’d be in good hands no matter what happens.

I could feel the change in her voice after sharing this with her, like she was disappointed in my humanity. The excitement turned into a quick wind-down with pleasantries and an email that followed, letting me know they were going in another direction.

There are many articles for engaged folks who are planning their wedding, with questions to ask potential photographers. I don’t blame people for inquiring about a backup plan in the worst-case scenario, in fact, I think it’s smart. But, to set these expectations that we as vendors aren’t humans — who get sick, who may be chronically ill, or disabled — is ableist behavior.

Pushing through pain and fatigue is part of any physical job to a certain extent, but we shouldn’t have to fear sharing our vulnerabilities. I have friends who have had gigs taken away from them because their main photographer wanted someone younger, healthier, “better.” There’s always this feeling that I’m going to soon “age out” of the wedding industry as a photographer. I think much of that is my fear of no longer being relevant. My grey hair catching up to me. The age spots under my eyes revealed.

If you’ve ever felt this way—like you have to hide your migraine behind a forced smile or your panic attack behind a mask—you are not alone. These are not failures. There are so many of us working while chronically ill or disabled, and that in and of itself is activism.

As a reminder, disabled people still don’t have marriage equality. Upon marriage, disabled folks will lose access to supplemental security income (and often health insurance) unless the couples’ combined assets are under $3,000. SSI is important because disabled people have the highest unemployments rates, have a hard time finding and keeping jobs, and are often paid less than minimum wage legally. Because of this, some disabled people don’t have the ability to marry and have twice the average divorce rate.

The wedding industry is ableist. From venues that push disabled people out by not opening doors to them, to clients who expect vendors to be invincible—ableism, like many other isms in the wedding industry, should be challenged.

Disability justice is central to the work that I do as a wedding photographer. Because of this, I do find that I attract many queer (and often trans), disabled clients. It is really powerful to feel so in community with the folks who I share creative spaces with. The more explicit I am with my brand values, the more I attract folks who honor me not only as a business owner, but as a whole person, and vice versa. It’s been very healing to be able to connect with clients so transparently and vulnerably, when so much of this industry expects perfection.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

I’m constantly having to remind myself that perfectionism is another form of white supremacy and is not attainable, nor should it be something to strive for.

Something that took me until recently to learn is that I don’t have the authority to call myself a “safe space.”

I find it harmful when wedding industry leaders label themselves as inclusive or safe, whether as individuals, brands, or spaces.

As much as I’m constantly trying to learn and unlearn, I cannot guarantee safety when you work with me–the same can be said for the vendors I recommend to marriers.

We don’t live in a world where we get a badge for being “one of the good ones,” because none of us are exceptional or above potentially doing harm.

There is so much gray area that gets ignored when we simplify safety into pronouns in a bio or e-mail signature, or an allyship badge. Using blanket statements like “safe” or “inclusive” can be a false promise and even more damaging when clients are expecting a positive experience and are unexpectedly harmed in the process.

A vendor might be incredibly affirming to the queer community, but their actions may not be as intentional when that community intersects with those who are Black, disabled, and trans.

I recently attended a conference where one of the speakers–a white, gay woman–spoke about discrimination against sexual orientation by sharing, “If you are a straight wedding professional watching this, you have never had that experience or even [had it] cross your mind that someone might not like you, or want you, or accept you.”

That kind of statement has good intentions, but ignores the fact that marriers are often being marginalized for identities they hold in addition to or apart from their sexuality (disability, race, ethnicity, class, gender identity, etc.).

Many of the vendors I see claiming to be safe and inclusive are using ableist language or AAVE, oftentimes in the same breath. Or only talking about “couples” when discussing weddings, which disregards polyamorous clients entirely. Or not using captions in their videos. Or assuming everyone getting married is in a romantic relationship and prompting them for photos with vulnerable questions about their romantic attraction.

It’s impossible to move through the world without doing harm–in fact, oftentimes the messiness means we are growing and learning. But promising we’re safe while doing so is not responsible or realistic.

An alternative to using blanket statements like “inclusive” and “safe” to describe our brands can be subtle, like shifting from saying “inclusive” to “more inclusive.”

A lot of folks in the wedding industry share well-meaning sentiments like, “all are included and welcome here” or we’re “inclusive to all!” I’ve learned in community with Erica Courdae that “If you’re including everyone, you’re not including anyone.”

Erica shares that you can’t make anything more inclusive or diverse unless it’s safer to do so. But before we can get to the place to evaluate safety, we need to define our values and see how they show up in action.

In The Art of Online Business’ podcast episode, “How to Create a More Inclusive Business,” Erica explains, “If I say having these people included matters…why? Who is being included? Do they feel included or did you decide that they feel included?…If I use a word that is unfortunately overused and can be a buzzword [inclusive], what does it actually mean when I use it?”

An example of this would be how the NFL promoted featuring deaf performers and ASL interpreters for the Super Bowl’s halftime show for the first time ever. When it aired, they didn’t actually showcase them. Instead, they created an unnecessary roadblock to access by requiring viewers to download an app to watch them perform separately.

Was the Super Bowl more accessible and inclusive than last year? Technically, yes. Was it inclusive and accessible? No. For many, it actually did more harm than good, since the deaf performers were essentially used performatively as stage props for inclusivity.

So, how do we identify what inclusivity even means for our brands? Something as seemingly simple as having our values listed on our website can be incredibly impactful.

Pause on the Play co-founders Erica Courdae and India Jackson lead folks through defining their values in their “From Implicit to Explicit” masterclass. Their class was a game-changer for me to figure out what matters most to me, who I want to feel included, and what direct actions I can take to get there (imperfectly).

Contact Info:

• Website: www.shannoncollins.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shannoncollinsphoto/
• Twitter: https://twitter.com/shannonacollins
• Other: https://www.tiktok.com/@shannoncollinsphoto

Image Credits
For the portrait of me that I first uploaded, that was taken by Sabrina of SGW Photography. Everything else was taken by me for Shannon Collins Photography or Youthphoria.