It was already nighttime when the taxi rolled up to the entrance of my studio. My friend and colleague Caleb helped me pack the trunk with all my gear. Camera kit? Check. Flash? Check. GoPro?— A last minute addition: Check. Too much shit as usual. We both hopped into the car. The sound of the doors closing punctuated the stillness of the air. It was quite a few hours before my plane would depart JFK airport, but I wanted to give myself plenty of time to check in; I knew there could be a good potential that I would be questioned as to the motivations behind my itinerary. In just a few hours, I’d be boarding a plane to Sulaymaniyah, Iraq by way of Istanbul.



Upon reaching the airport, Caleb helped me hoist my six cases of well-packed photography equipment to the sidewalk and over to the check-in counters; he departed shortly thereafter. I would be taking this trip alone. As a self-funded, independent project to an area that was war-torn, I felt it was far too dangerous— or quite simply asking too much— to bring the people I normally work with. With that said, I’d be in the careful hands of my local fixers Jan Ezidxelo and his wife Ipek, whose responsibility it would be to keep me out of harm’s way for the duration of my trip.



The check-in counter is where the adventure truly began… After all, I wasn’t exactly headed to Cancun (sorry, mom). As soon as the Turkish Airlines attendant swiped my passport, a paleness spread across her face. She abruptly got up from her position at the counter with my passport without any kind of explanation. I pretended to not know what was going on, but I knew deep down what was happening. About fifteen minutes later she returned with two gentleman. At first glance, you wouldn’t have been able to identify them from any other person at the airport. They wore everyday clothes and their only distinguishing characteristic was the badges they would flash at me from underneath their jackets, identifying them as Homeland Security. My passport was flagged.





They spoke with me candidly, their language personable but tactical. Part of me would have loved to demand my privacy and go full-blown Edward Snowden on them, but the guys were professional, knowledgable and asked all the right questions. “That’s a strange itinerary you have; what are you planning on doing in Iraq? What kind of photography do you do? So no one is sending you? You’re freelance? How does freelance photography work?” These were just some of the things that I was asked.





I knew I had no incriminating evidence to hide, so I leaned against my equipment cart in a relaxed manner. I showed them some of my work on my phone. As I swiped across the screen showcasing everything from my recent shoots with the U.S. Army to National Geographic Channel, I could tell that their fixed gazes were not focused on my work, but more on how my hands appeared— were they shaking? They were looking for any incriminating evidence that would potentially show I was lying about my reasons for going to Iraq. I was let go after thirty minutes of questioning. As a matter of principle, I thanked them for their service and was on my way.





It’s not surprising my itinerary was suspicious. According to International Business Times, it is estimated that 20,000 foreign fighters from across 40 countries have left to join the Islamic State group; and an estimated 3,400 of that 20,000 are reportedly Westerners. I can see how a 25-year old traveling solo via Turkey, (the most common entry point into Syria), whose clothes are mostly black might sound some alarm bells. As Homeland Security walked away, I couldn’t help but wonder if this will become a regular routine every time I travel. Regardless, I finished my check-in with time to spare and would soon be off on my journey that would take me to the bases and the frontline of Kurdish guerrilla forces that were in fact, fighting groups like the Islamic State.