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Rowell Encina, left, was photographed by
Finn Gomez of Getty Images. |
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Initially, Tthe picture of Bernita Bowlding by
Cheney Orrwent viral |
If a picture is worth a thousand words, then two pictures are worth two thousand words.
On the Fourth of July, a Washington D.C. Metro train at Eastern Market station turned into a pressure cooker. Hundreds of masked members of the white supremacist group Patriot Front flooded a train car, creating an instant nightmare for the passengers trapped inside.
Two separate photojournalists pulled focus on two different minority passengers in that exact same car. What happened next is a textbook example of how the modern media machine works: visceral symbolism moves at lightning speed, while complex reality takes the slow lane.
Frame One: The overnight icon
The first image to absolutely fracture the internet was captured by Reuters photographer Cheney Orr. It showed 33-year-old Bernita Bowlding, a Black woman sitting entirely alone, her eyes fixed forward as a wall of masked white men packed the car around her.
For cable news and social media, the visual shorthand was instantaneous. It didn't matter that the public didn't know her name yet; the image perfectly mirrored iconic Civil rights photographs from the 1950s. The media instantly anointed it "the defining image of modern American division," driving millions of clicks and leading every nightly broadcast.
Frame Two: "There was another photo..."
But while that singular narrative was dominating your timeline, a parallel story was unfolding just a few feet away. Getty Images photographer Finn Gomez had pulled focus on a different passenger: Roswell Encina, a gay Filipino-American immigrant who happens to be the CEO of the U.S. Capitol Historical Society.
"There was another photo taken from a different angle," Encina later noted recalling the media coverage. While Bowlding's photo became a global Rorschach test for racial tension, Encina’s experience provided the raw, real-time audio to the visual horror.
Encina gave a voice to the terrifying sensory experience of being trapped in that rolling metal box. "I froze," he recounted. "I was terrified. I thought, 'If somebody stabs me, if somebody kicks me, I won't be able to identify who did it because everyone is masked.'"
"It was very unnerving, uncomfortable and unsettling when you see a big group of men in masks and sunglasses and hats that could not be identifiable, and they're all coming into your car," Encina said.
As the week rolled on, the media was forced to grapple with the actual human beings behind the viral frames—and the story took a sharp, messy turn.The Washington Post tracked down Bowlding’s family, who dropped a devastating complication into the media's neat narrative. Her brother revealed that Bernita struggled with severe mental illness and was likely experiencing a health crisis during the ride. Her family publicly blasted the media for turning a vulnerable woman into a political prop, saying she looked like "hounds surrounding her."T However, because Encina was a highly articulate civic educator, the media utilized his voice not as a passive symbol, but as an active analyst. He was able to give words to the collective trauma of the train car.
Encina used his platform to contextualize the moment, drawing strength from the very history he protects. "I thought of Ruby Bridges. I thought of the Little Rock Nine," Encina said, explaining how he survived the 30-minute ride. "They went through worse. I can survive a 30-minute subway ride."
The view from the edge
Ultimately, the D.C. Metro incident became a masterclass in how modern media digests trauma. Bowlding’s photo received the lion's share of the press because it fit a pre-existing, powerful historical template.
But it was Encina’s willingness to speak out that allowed the media to pivot from exploitation to education.
Encina's story is the "American Dream." He came to the United States as an infant from the Philippines and became a US citizen. His father served in the US Navy. He said suddenly being surrounded by a group of people with a very different vision of America from his own was a powerful moment.
A day after the subway ride, Espina reflects on his experience, and posts his thoughts on Instagram:
Encina hopes that when people see the photo of him, they’re reminded that we are one country.
“I’m hoping when they see my image they’ll remember we are a nation of different people, but also remember our history. There’s a lot to celebrate,” he said.
"One thing I realized is that democracy is very fragile ... We need to stay engaged with history and civics and education," Encina said. "Doris Kearns Goodwin likes to say that there is hope in history. I really believe that's how we can get through this."
He transformed a terrifying viral moment into a serious conversation about the fragility of American democracy—proving that sometimes, the front line of the culture war is just a random subway ride on America's birthday.EDITOR'S NOTE: For additional commentary, news, views and chismis from an AANHPI perspective, follow me on Threads, on X, BlueSky or at the blog Views From the Edge. If you find this perspective interesting, please repost.
