Below The Line: Portraits of American Poverty

2 minute read

Correction appended Nov. 18, 2011: A previous version of a caption in this slideshow incorrectly stated that a house had toxic drywall. TIME regrets the error.

In 2010, more Americans lived below the poverty line than at any time since 1959, when the U.S. Census Bureau began collecting this data. Last January, TIME commissioned photographer Joakim Eskildsen to capture the growing crisis, which now affects nearly 46.2 million Americans. Traveling to New York, California, Louisiana, South Dakota and Georgia over seven months, Eskildsen’s photographs of the many types of people who face poverty appear in the new issue of TIME. Eskildsen, who last visited America in 1986, says the poverty crisis was a side of the country he’d rarely seen in the media in Berlin, where he is based. “For Europeans living outside of America, it’s a mythical place because we’re breastfed with all those images of Coca-Cola and American culture,” Eskildsen says. “It was very heartbreaking to see all kinds of people facing poverty because many of these people were not only economically poor, but living in unhealthy conditions overall.”

Eskildsen was also surprised by how pervasive poverty is in America. “Once you start digging, you realize people in poverty are everywhere, and you can really go through your life without seeing them before you yourself are standing in the food stamp line,” he says. “So many people spoke about the disappointment of the American Dream—this, they said, was the American Reality.” In the accompanying magazine story, Barbara Kiviat argues that “there is no single archetype of America’s poor,” and that “understanding what poverty is in reality—and not in myth—is crucial” to efforts to erase the situation. Perhaps equally as crucial is the effort to put a face to the statistic, which Eskildsen has done here in haunting detail.

Joakim Eskildsen is a Danish photographer based in Berlin. He is best known for his book The Roma Journeys (Steidl, 2007). More of his work can be seen here.

The project was done in collaboration with Natasha Del Toro, reporter for TIME.

Feifei Sun is a reporter at TIME. Find her on Twitter at @Feifei_Sun or on Facebook.

Eric, 3, lives with two siblings, their mother and grandparents in a trailer park for migrant farm workers in Firebaugh, Calif. His grandmother regularly walks two miles with him to pick up free food from the local community center to supplement the family’s $350/week income.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Migrant farm workers sit outside a house in Firebaugh, located in California's Central Valley. Albino, left, and Javier, center, came from Mexico in the 1970s. Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
A puppy wanders through a neighborhood in Eagle Butte, S.D. that locals call the "dark side" because none of the street lights work, but also because loitering, drunkenness, fights and domestic abuse are common occurences, especially at night.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Friends Jasmine, 6, and Amy, 8, outside a migrant worker motel in downtown Fresno, California. Amy’s mother makes about $8 an hour on a nearby farm.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
The families of Darla, 48, and Todd Rooks, 46 have been Louisiana fishermen for generations. Since the BP oil spill, their income from fishing, shrimping and oysters has all but disappeared, and they were forced to give up their home and live on their 40-foot fishing boat. Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
DJ, 7, comes to stay on his grandparents' boat with his brother Eli, 3, and learn the family trade. Normally the boat sits in the water, but the family takes it out every few years to paint and maintain it. They are waiting for BP to approve their claim for loss of livelihood, but have received no money so far. They continue to go out and fish, but fish stocks have not recovered, and much of what remains is contaminated.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Eli lays in a hammock on his grandparents' boat. His grandmother Darla says she doesn't want to be the face of poverty. "I don't want food stamps. I don't want to be on welfare," she says. "I want to be the face of prosperity .... I want to fish.”Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Spirit Grass, 13, is part of a family of six who live in the Thunder Butte community of South Dakota, part of the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation. Until recently, her family survived on $3,500 a year from her mother and father's part-time and temporary jobs. This fall, her mother, a disabled veteran, found steady work in a medical lab, but like many of her neighbors, must still contend with the high cost of driving long distances to meet her family's basic needs. Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Darlene Rosas, 66, lives alone in a condemned FEMA trailer 40 miles outside of Eagle Butte, S.D. Trained as a nurse, she was injured and has been disabled and unable to work since 1968, supporting both of her adult children with her disability check. She hasn’t had running water since her pipes froze in 1992. She says living on the reservation is a Catch-22: “If you have a job, you lose benefits. If you live on welfare, you become a victim of the system.”Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Mateo Chipps, 5, rides his bike after a rainstorm in Cherry Creek, a remote community about an hour's drive from Eagle Butte. Mateo's mother had no trouble finding work when the family lived out of state, but cannot find regular work on the reservation. Nevertheless, she volunteers in order to help her less fortunate neighbors and also tries to make a little income selling "Indian tacos" that she makes at home.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Elizabeth, 8, and Aleena Arnesen, 9, are cousins, and live on the Gulf Coast of Louisiana. Aleena's father is a shrimp fisherman, and since BP's Gulf oil spill, her mother, Kindra, has become an activist for those seeking compensation from BP. Their parents worry about the children's exposure to oil spill toxins and that they will not be able continue the family's traditional way of life.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Marla, 39, and Darren Sumner, 40, of Gretna, La., were laid off from design and architecture jobs during the recession. Steady work was scarce for years until Marla landed a new job in September, although Darren is still looking.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Felecia Ogbodo, 37, lost her job as a social worker and is filing for bankruptcy in Fresno. Her daughter Ermaline, 18, just started at UC Santa Cruz and wants to be a forensic psychologist, but also worries about needing to support her mother. Ermaline's father, though no longer married to Felecia, is still a part of their lives and helps to support Ermaline.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
John Moon lives a spartan existence in Athens, one of the poorest places in Georgia. His only furniture is his bed, and he recently moved from this small apartment to a trailer in order to save on rent. He survives solely on Social Security benefits and food stamps. "God is taking care of me so I am in good hands," he says.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Quintavius Scott, 5, stands in the bedroom of his great grandmother, Barbara Kelly, in Athens, Ga. His father, Quinton Scott, makes $8.25 an hour at his job and also attends school to get a business license. Quintavius is in Head Start, a federally-funded preschool program for low-income preschoolers, and his parents, although not together, are still an active part of his life.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Jennifer Rhoden, 27, and her boyfriend were forced to live under a bridge overpass in New Orleans when they could no longer afford rent. Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Richard London, 56, is a military veteran who lives in the Seventh Ward in New Orleans and collects cans to make money. He makes about $160 a month. Once addicted to drugs, he is now trying to turn his life around.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Dakeia Johnson, 30, and her daughter Jes-Zahre, 4, on the porch of Dakeia’s mother’s house in the Upper Ninth Ward, in New Orleans. During Hurricane Katrina, the family was rescued off their roof but lost their home. The family was able to purchase a new house from Habitat for Humanity. Dakeia has a college degree, but makes close to minimum wage working sporadically as a substitute teacher.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Ronald Major, despite receiving disability benefits, lives under a bridge overpass in New Orleans.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
A gas station and liquor store in Eagle Butte, S.D. Alcoholism is a widespread problem on the reservation.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Terry Fitzpatrick and his girlfriend live in a tent in the woods outside Athens, Ga., because they don't want to live with other homeless people. They are retired and live on welfare, but manage to be largely self-sufficient.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Two of Adell White Dog Johnson's grandchildren sleep in their strollers near their family's burned-down trailer in Eagle Butte, S.D. Adell, 45, had complained about the wiring the previous week. No one was hurt in the fire, but her family lost everything they had, including a computer they had recently bought. Adell, who also lost her previous trailer to an electrical fire, makes less than minimum wage as a dishwasher at a local restaurant.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Kate Three Lakes, one of Adell's daughters, stands inside of her family's ruined trailer. Kate was at a pregnancy check-up when the trailer caught fire. Kate left the abusive father of her children to live with her mother. Adell, her two daughters and her six grandchildren all live in a new but smaller FEMA trailer donated by the Tribal Housing Authority. Various members of the community banded together to donate basic necessities for their new house. FEMA sells Native Americans condemned trailers which are dangerous to live in. Residents also have little incentive to buy their own home, since it disqualifies them from receiving general assistance. The system on the reservation, created in part by the Federal Government, has created a dependent society, the antithesis of Native Americans’ desire to be a self-reliant and sovereign nation. Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
A number of homeless people in Athens, Ga. have formed an encampment under one of the local bridges. Many of the people who live there work steady jobs, but do not make enough money to afford a place to live. Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Alex Velius lives in the homeless encampment under a bridge in Athens, Ga. She has struggled with a difficult childhood and drug addiction, as well as the loss of her son. Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Frances Menguista, 31, sits beside her neighbor’s son Micah Taylor, 3, in their Section 8 apartment complex in Fresno, Calif. Before having her baby in August, Menguista was a home service aide to the elderly. She and her fiancé, who does auto detailing part time while training to be a medical assistant, receive $200 a month in food stamps. Micah's father has struggled to find work since he lost his job a few years ago.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
TJ Shelton, 76, is a Vietnam War veteran living in Athens, Ga., who despite being legally blind, lives only on Social Security and is largely self-sufficient. Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
California's Central Valley is traditionally a rich farmland that has been recently hit by drought, leading to significant unemployment among the large population of migrant farm workers that live in the area.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Malik Chipps, 11, out biking with his friends after a rain storm in Cherry Creek S.D., lives with his family in a damp and moldy house, which his mother suspects is the cause of his asthma and seizures. Malik almost died from an asthma attack because it took so long for the ambulance to reach him. The family expects to move into a new house soon. Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Miguel Miranda had to stop working at both of his low-wage jobs temporarily to take care of his kids while his wife was in hospital, and fell behind on his bills. She is now out of hospital and he is back at work. The kids are in school, and the family has caught up on bills. The family was able to stay afloat despite their temporary loss of income, although even now, they make no more than $10,000 a year.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
Ramon Ruelas lived in one of the homeless tent cities in Fresno that were recently cleared out by the city.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME

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