Our Second Weekend in Berlin

By Amanda Cahn

Cahn IFriday morning, during our walking tour in the heavy rain, half of the group decided to get phở for lunch to warm us up. We took the metro to Kreuzberg, and tried to walk under the restaurants’ awnings in the fruitless attempt to stay wet instead of soaked. Unfortunately, we arrived a half-hour before the restaurant opened. Not wanting to wait in the rain, we started our second weekend off with drinks and olives at the Knofi Feinkost restaurant and deli. A half-hour later, we moved to Green Rice for phở. We were already halfway through our meal when we realized there was a large photograph of a naked woman hanging right in front of us, demonstrating how conditioned we are to seeing women’s bodies used as decoration.

Cahn IIThat evening, the whole group took the metro back to Kreuzberg, where we had dinner and drinks at Ta’Cabrón Taquería and Que Pasa and went dancing at Havanna to celebrate Alejandra’s birthday. Unlike the majority of the nightclubs we’ve visited, Havanna did not play electronic dance music (EDM). Upstairs was primarily bachata; although, it switched to reggaeton later on in the night. Downstairs, there was an active salsa room, as well as another room playing mostly hip-hop and R&B, which is advertised as “Beautiful Black Sounds.” It is important to note that the other rooms are not referred to as “Latino Sounds” or any other similar label. Furthermore, many of the songs were not even by Black artists. The way in which the music is uniquely racialized is problematic, especially when the majority of the people in this room were white (or white-passing), suggesting the music is racialized primarily for marketing purposes.

Cahn IIIOn Saturday morning, a German friend of mine arrived at the apartment, bearing coffee for the both of us. Because it was sunny and still early, Chris and I walked around the city for a while before heading to the Boros Collection (Sammlung Boros), a contemporary art exhibition in an old Nazi bunker (Reichsbahnbunker). Forced laborers constructed the air-raid shelter in 1942, and it was referred to as an M1200 because it was intended to shelter up to 1,200 people, but it ended up sheltering around 3,000. We could still see the artillery damage on the exterior of the building, because in 1945, the Red Army used the bunker to house prisoners of war. Since WWII, the bunker has been used in quite a variety of ways. In 1949, it was used as a textile warehouse. In 1957, it became known as the “Banana Bunker” because imported fruit from Cuba was stored there.

Cahn IVCurrently, there are three pieces on display, all by Berlin-based artist Alicja Kwade, which particularly interested me and are quite relevant to this course. In a small room visible from the lobby but blocked off with a chain, an organized stack of shining gold bars sits elevated and illuminated. However, the bars are actually coal-plated in gold leaf. Upstairs in another small room, precious gems sit protected and illuminated within an elevated glass case. These are stones Kwade took from the streets of Miami and had cut and polished. The last piece is in another small room, but it is dark and the floor faintly reveals its past life as a bathroom. Kwade shattered a mirror, outlined it, then used the outline to cut this steal and position it as the mirror had shattered. All of these pieces problematize how we decide what is valuable and what is not. Along these lines, in the introduction of Winter Shorts, editors Clementine Burnley and Sharon Dodua Otoo refer to W.E.B. Du Bois’ concept of “double consciousness.” Burnley explains, “Du Bois wrote about the way double consciousness comes into being for us as Black people, because society sees us through a largely negative filter of assumptions and prejudices. Double consciousness is about both aspects: how we see ourselves as individuals or as a group and how society sees us” (10). Kwade’s work not only reflects the two aspects of the double consciousness, but also the filters that are used to manipulate which lives the mainstream society deems valuable.

Cahn VIn the afternoon, we were craving Thai food, so we took the metro to Charlottenburg and Chris showed me a little slice of heaven in Preuβenpark, also known as Thai Park. Exiting the flowery trail, we came upon a sea of umbrellas, shielding the vendors from the sun or drizzle, whichever one cared to pass by. There had to be at least fifty vendors, many who actually cooked the food right there in front of the customers after they ordered. Of course, I noticed that most of the vendors were Asian, whereas most of the customers were white. In Showing Our Colors: Afro-German Women Speak OutMay (Opitz) Ayim notes, “Turkish kabob, Greek gyros, Italian pizza, Indian and African teas have long since become a regular part of everyday life in the Federal Republic. Nevertheless the people who have made these and other enrichments possible through their contribution to cultural diversity are regarded with caution” (136). While Showing Our Colors was published in 1986, Germany may still be in much of the same situation. This also reminds me of the chorus of “Gold” by High Klassified,

They say melanin is in
I just can’t see why
‘Cause you love our style, ‘cause you love our skin
‘Cause you love our food but there ain’t no love within.

Cahn VIIThat night, half of the group went out for sushi and drinks at Le Coq D’or in Friedrichshain. Afterwards, everyone decided to go back to the apartment except for Nitika and I. On our way to Newton Bar, we were approached by a group of people on the metro and a couple of guys started asking us where we are from. For the first time during our stay in Germany, they did not take “the United States” for an answer. They said, “No, but where are you really from? You guys look Latina.” Nitika is Indian, and I am Indonesian, so when they said that we looked Latina, it only emphasized what we already knew: they wanted to know why we have brown skin, not where we come from (whatever that even means). Ayim describes an all too familiar sentiment, “No matter where I go, I know some guy is going to say something to me—especially at parties: ‘Well, where do you come from?’” (151). Again, we see that for the “Other,” not much has changed.


CahnAmanda Cahn is from Portland, Oregon and a rising senior at Colorado College, with a major in Feminist and Gender Studies and a minor in Spanish. She is passionate about advocating for reproductive rights and has worked with Planned Parenthood teaching sexual education in public high schools, as well as analyzing statistical data from their various sexual education programs. In her free time, she enjoys hiking, reading, and spending time with friends.

 

Witnessing Powerful Art: A Conversation with the Editors of Winter Shorts

By Ivy Wappler

IMG_20160615_095851662 (1)The FemGeniuses greeted the day with a rainy walk to the U-Bahn and a stuffy, damp subway ride. Peeling off our wet jackets, we settled in for class. This morning, we were lucky enough to sit down with the editors of Winter Shorts, the latest installment of the Witnessed Series. It was a pleasure to hear from Sharon Dodua Otoo and Clementine Burnley, co-editors of the influential collection. Otoo, a London-born artist and activist, moved to Berlin in 2006 with her three sons (she now has four). She described the motivation for the Witnessed Series as a desire to use her international connections to create momentum, shared understanding, and support for Black German activism through writing. Burnley has been in Berlin for 6 years, and writes poetry when she isn’t working for MSO Inklusiv. In 2015, MSO focused its work on youth, Black, and Queer people of color communities, collaborating with organizations like Street UnivercityJugend Theater Büro, Katharina Oguntoye’s Joliba, and the Initiative Schwarze Menschen in Deutschland. This year, they’re working with Wagenplatz Kanal, a Queer grouping within the Sinti and Roma community, a Black Trans organisation hosted by Der Braune Mob, and a youth organisation in Heidelberg.

Otoo and Burnley emphasized that Witnessed, the first English-language series about the experience of Black people in Germany, is not meant to replace anything already written in German about the Black German experience. Witnessed is, rather, a diverse collection, a reflection of the myriad experiences that comprise a Black German collective consciousness. Previous installments include The Little Book of Big Visions How to Be an Artist and Revolutionize the World edited by Otoo and Sandrine Micossé-Aikins (2012), Daima by Nzitu Mawakha (2013), Also by Mail: A Play a Olumide Popoola (2013), and The Most Unsatisfied Town by Amy Evans (2015), which is based on the deeply controversial Oury Jalloh case. The original book launch and reading of this play was a collaboration with Roses for Refugees, a project Otoo developed that sought to engage with refugees living and protesting in Oranienplatz in Kreuzberg in order to improve the policies and discourses around refugees in Germany. A catalyst for activism, Witnessed also organized and hosted youth workshops in schools, along with performances of the play.

After Otoo and Burnley discussed their work, we asked questions about the texts we read for class from Winter Shorts, including Burnley’s “Boom,” and Otoo’s “Whtnacig Pnait (Watching Paint).” I found it interesting that Otoo explained that the latter was inspired by her son’s struggles with dyslexia. The protagonist hates school, in part due to this and also his new, unfamiliar home in Germany. Still, when the boy finds himself in a magical, secret safe space for people of color, he still feels somewhat out of place. This story, Otoo shared with us, was her way of saying “Look, I’ve been listening!” not only to her son, but also to all people on the margins of the Black community, estranged by forces like ableism, cissexism, and heterosexism.

IMG_0446I loved reading fiction for a change, and these stories were no disappointment, inciting rich discussions of racism, hegemonic narratives, and the role of art in activism. For example, I asked, “What role does autobiography play in your stories? How much of your writing is rooted in personal experience?” The answers I received were far more nuanced than I expected. Otoo articulated that, for her, even if she writes about something directly from her own life, that the very act of writing it down is interpretation. She is wary of the term “autobiographical,” as it may limit the interpretations of her work. Her stories are invitations for connection and inspiration, not simply narrations of disparate, specific happenings. Burnley responded, “I can’t write what I don’t know,” explaining that even though everything she writes is fueled by something she has seen, heard, or imagined, as soon as she’s written a story down, she no longer has anything to do with it. “What is more important,” she argued, “is what the person reading the story brings to it.” For Burnley, delineations of fact and fiction matter not: “Sometimes you write a story, and it’s complete factual experience, but for me it doesn’t make a difference. It’s still a story.” These responses made it clear, then, that no matter how connected to reality stories are, what matters most is how the reader can relate to the story.

As a follow-up, Heidi raised a concern that  too often marginalized writers, especially Black women writers (the literary community she’s most studied) are assumed only to write autobiographical content, that they rarely considered to be creative. Otoo agreed and added that the literary perspective of white men seems to be the neutral perspective, rich in variation and creative freedom, while perspectives of Black women and other marginalized groups are seen as a specialized, specific and connected to the narration of their marginal experiences. She suggested that since the wealth of literature catered to the masses is written by white men, the small amount of writing done by PoC or QPOC is usually assumed to be simply nonfictional, and not creative. It seems that writers from minority groups have been affected by what Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie calls “the danger of the single story,” something that Burnley mentions in the introduction to Winter Shorts. When dominant narratives are written only by those in power, those without power suffer. Burnley actually touches on this frustration through one of her characters, Mimi, in “Boom.” Upon researching the Bab el Mandeb straits for a vacation, “Mimi was at once pleased and annoyed at the morbid romanticism of the language and the way it entirely avoided mentioning the slave trade and the more recent wars in the region” (47). Otoo, Burnley, and the writers of the Witnessed Series are all painfully aware of the danger of the single story, and aim to complicate limited narratives about the Black experience with their colorful collection of writings.

Talking to Otoo and Burnley this morning helped us see a real relationship between creating art and Black political thought. All the scholars in the room seemed to agree that this work against the danger of the single story, the Witnessed Series, is certainly political. Along these lines in the introduction to Winter Shorts, Burnley reminds readers of Toni Morrison’s insight: “If there is a book you want to read that hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” Burnley laments that capitalism has turned the appreciation of the arts into an elitist endeavor that many do not have resources enough to access. But she urged us today that her art, and subsequently her manifestation of political thought, is not always found in the high, abstract realm, “because we don’t always have the time or the money.” Among capitalist frameworks that commodify creativity and impose limiting structures such as genres, Burnley sees an opportunity for artful dissent. “That’s freedom for me,” she states in a matter-of-fact manner, “writing what I want.” Otoo agrees, “I like to write in a way that leaves room for interpretation…leaves room for dreaming.” Through their collections of art, Otoo and Burnley have invited their readers to dream of liberation. Through conversing with them and getting acquainted with their work, it is clear that they see art as a powerful political tool.

IMG_20160613_104425639The curation of the Witness Series, including Winter Shorts, is a glimpse into the multiplicitous nature of the Black German experience, meant to engender awareness and solidarity for their movement towards liberation. Winter Shorts does a beautiful job of showcasing the difficult everyday moments in which multiple intersections of identity manifest. Clearly, in these personal stories, rife with racially charged struggle, is where the revolution is situated. Otoo and Burnley are uniting people with these stories and inviting collaboration and change to be made. As Heidi writes in her book-jacket praise for Winter Shorts, “The revolution happens in our hearts, minds, and spirits during moments when we might least expect it.”  I want to thank both Otoo and Burnley for sharing their keen, revolutionary, and poetic minds with the FemGeniuses this morning.


WapplerIvy Wappler hails from Long Island Sound and is grateful to spend her summers in New England, and her winters in sunny Colorado. She is a Feminist and Gender Studies major, and an Environmental Issuesminor. After school, she hopes to explore environmentally and socially responsible tourism. She may also end up reforming sex education. An avid foodie, Ivy is ready to experience Berlin through its food and drink when she’s not in class. You may find her taking walks through sunny streets, seeking out farmer’s markets and green, open spaces.

Little Istanbul: Our Walking Tour through Kreuzberg

By Amy Valencia

IMG_0364Today we made our way to the Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg Museum (FHXB), where we were to begin our walking tour of Kreuzberg. As our tour guide Intissar Nassar introduced herself, we were greeted by a man whom she said was a famous Berlin pop star. I didn’t catch his name, but I did catch his band’s name. We were meeting a member of Mr. Ed Jumps the Gun. Heidi was visibly excited as she talked to him and discussed the meaning of the band’s name. He then waved goodbye and Intissar began to describe our next three hours. In the hours to come, we would learn how Kreuzberg had become the vibrant multicultural neighborhood it is today.

IMG_0363Walking into FHXB’s eldest exhibition, we sat around Intissar as she began to recount the history of Kreuzberg. She began with the 1960s and the rise of the Berlin Wall following the end of WWII. The Berlin Wall was built by the German Democratic Republic (GDR) in 1961. Large concrete barriers completely separated West Berlin and East Berlin for 28 years. While the Berlin Wall divided many families, it also separated approximately 60,000 people from their jobs (Rise and Fall of the Berlin Wall), which caused a severe labor shortage. To remedy the labor shortage, young people from Southern and Southeastern Europe were recruited as “guest workers.” Intissar emphasized that these individuals never intended to remain in Germany indefinitely—their intention was to earn money and return home at the completion of their three-month work permits, as wages in Germany were significantly higher than in their home countries (White 755).

Intissar explained that many countries were initially reluctant to help Germany because of its ugly past and that Turkey was one of the first countries to agree to send “guest workers.” Subsequently, in groups of 10, work permit applicants had to pass three tests. These tests were comprised of a hand examination, a medical exam, and a literacy test. Applicants had to show their hands to examiners in order to make sure their hand size was useful for the jobs needed. The medical test and future medical costs had to be paid by the employer; with that said, the employer made medical exams as cheap as possible by making all 10 applicants see the doctor together. They would stand next to each other in their underwear as the doctor examined each one of them, which was dehumanizing and humiliating. The final test, the reading and writing test, was to assure employers that the workers could integrate into society. Applicants were graded and those deemed intelligent enough were allowed to come to Germany for work.

IMG_0367Walking around the exhibition, Intissar’s words also were depicted in the pictures on the wall. Guest workers were sent to live in tight living conditions. Residents on multiple floors in one apartment shared one outside bathroom, and showers had to be rented. Needless to say, many residents went without privacy or comfort. Further, guest workers did not know the German language or culture, and for the most part, they were without family. Living in these alienating conditions made it more important to remember their goals and focus on achieving them. At the end of their three-month stay, employers saw no reason to repeat the process of obtaining and screening guest workers. So, in order to save money, they asked workers if they would like to continue to work and extend their work permits. While some chose to go home, many decided to stay and remain in Kreuzberg. Part of this is because in Turkey, people would label the Turks in Germany with a badge of difference. For example, Turks in Germany were called Almancilar, a derogatory term. In a 1994 survey, “83% of Turkish respondents said they were no longer considering a return to Turkey” (White 755). This was, in part, because they were now othered in Turkey.

Through photographs and short captions, the museum exhibition also showed the journey of Kreuzberg. Kreuzberg sat along the Berlin Wall in West Berlin. Because their stay in Germany was now indefinite, “guest workers” looked for other places to live with better living conditions. They were now able to bring their families over, but many were still unable to afford a living space fit for a family. Te government promised to assist in renovations of the buildings, but Intissar explained the lack of immediate intervention by the government; families were paying rent for buildings that should have been condemned. The Berlin Senate Committee for Construction and Housing turned to a plan for restoration with “residents remaining in their buildings and having input to the restoration process” (Bockmeyer 52).  The advisory panel included 50% resident representation; however, it notably did not include “significant representation of Turkish or other immigrant groups” (Bockmeyer 52). The Berlin Senate presented itself as working with the people; however, they failed to include the communities composing the majority of Kreuzberg’s population.

IMG_0368Along these lines, Intissar also spoke with us about a model of Kreuzberg in the museum, because Heidi’s daughter Chase asked her why there were huge gray buildings that seemed to be out of place. Instead of answering her question, Intissar asked us to guess, and we left the museum. We passed through an alley where Intissar asked us to turn around and notice the gray building behind us. The buildings that we had seen in the museum’s model were in fact the “new” (new in the 1980s) apartments for “guest workers” and their families. The apartments had more privacy, bathrooms inside each apartment for example, but still failed to adequately address the families’ needs. To fix one issue, the lack of schools for children, a parking garage that was rarelyused was turned into a kindergarten.

As we continued walking through Kreuzberg, Intissar addressed some of the issues facing this community today. She makes it clear that while there may be an increase in dangerous activity, according to some, she doesn’t believe it is any different than any other big city. She still feels safe at night, but has to be cautious just like she would anywhere else. On the other hand, gentrification has also been an issue for this community. The culture this community has worked hard to develop is now being diminished in lieu of the modernization of buildings and an increase in the cost of living in Kreuzberg. It’s position in the “shadow of the Berlin Wall” allowed for the expression of freedom and creativity. With the fall of the Berlin Wall, this vibrant multi-ethnic and creative community has become a tourist destination. Hence, everything must become “slick and hip” to compete for tourists and investors. The transition into a new era is leaving behind the community that built it.

IMG_0449Our last stop on our tour of Little Istanbul was the Merkez Camii mosque. Entering a room used for prayer, we removed our shoes and sat in a circle as Intissar explained the significance of the mosque for the Muslim residents of Kreuzberg. For example, in order to combat the hostility and tyranny leveled at their community, including gentrification, the multi-ethnic people of Kreuzberg embrace a “feeling of we.” That “feeling of we” resonated with me. In a predominantly white space, people of color build communities to support one another. For me, I see this kind of community building in two parts of my life. The first is with my family. I am the daughter of two immigrant parents. They built their community through family and friends, and have created a network of unconditional love and support. The second place I see this is back at Colorado College. During my first two years at this predominantly white institution, I found my community in SOMOS, the Latinx student union. Without other students of color, I could not have made it to my final year as an undergraduate. For these reasons, and many more, I know it is important to learn about the history of Kreuzberg, where communities come together to make sure their voices are heard, to make sure their culture is not erased, and to make sure that they are seen. A lesson in unity that should be shared not only in history, but presently, as well.


ValenciaAmy Valencia is a senior at Colorado College from Waukegan, Illinois. She is majoring in Political Science with a minor in Feminist and Gender Studies. She focuses her studies on immigration policy and the effects of these policies on Latin American communities. Amy is excited to be studying abroad for the first time and ready to explore Berlin!

Katharina Oguntoye and the Joliba Intercultural Network

Joliba 1By Grace Montesano

This morning Baheya, Ivy and I sat around our dining room table discussing the plans for the day and enjoying our breakfast—sort of. While Baheya and Ivy had opted to make eggs and toast, I went the muesli route. I was only partially surprised to find out that the milk I bought was actually liquid yogurt. The surprise was partial because I seem to make this mistake in almost every new country I visit. This wouldn’t be a problem for someone who could appreciate liquid yogurt, I’m just simply not that person. I dejectedly ate half of my cereal concoction (I needed the sustenance) and then left the apartment, hoping for a better experience with our first visit with Katharina Oguntoye, Founder and Director of Joliba Intercultural Network.

Joliba is housed in two unassuming buildings in the neighborhood of Kreuzberg in Berlin. Upon entering, we were greeted by several large paintings by Young Eun Sun, one of the current interns. Katharina Oguntoye also greeted us. Katharina was a highly influential figure in the early Afro-German women’s movement in Berlin. For instance she co-edited Showing Our Colors: Afro-German Women Speak Out, which is regarded as the first and one of the most important books about the experiences of Afro-German women. Along those lines she’s been working towards liberation for many years, and it was neat to talk to such an important leader of the movement.

Katharina founded Joliba (another name for the Niger River, meaning “big river”) in 1997 as a place for intercultural networking and aiding immigrants. According to Katharina, this name was chosen because the Niger River connects many countries in West Africa, and the organization brings together many different people within Germany.  This reminds me of the foreword to Showing Our Colors, in which Audre Lorde writes, “This book serves to remind African-American women that we are not alone in our world situation. In the face of new international alignments, vital connections and differences exist that need to be examined between African-European, African-Asian, African American women” (xiv). It is clear that the movement Katharina participated in so heavily with Lorde has informed the rest of her life’s work.

Joliba 3In her office, Katharina gave us a bit of history of the organization, and then we were able to ask her some questions. One of the themes she spoke about was her own experience with racism. In “What I’ve Always Wanted to Tell You” from Showing Our Colors, Katharina writes about the feeling of otherness she experienced when she was the only Afro-German that she knew.  More specifically she explains reuniting with her brother: “It felt so good that the form of his hands and feet looked so much like mine. i loved him for making me feel that i was not alone, not an accidental exception” (215). Today in our discussion, Katharina strengthened this observation in several ways. She told us that Black Germans weren’t (and perhaps still aren’t) automatically recognized as German citizens. People would often ask her where she was from despite her being born in Germany. She went on to give the example of some anti-racist workshops she once co-led with her partner Carolyn Gammon. She said it was a very interesting exercise because she is Black German, and her partner is a White Canadian. This is the inverse of the way that most Germans conceptualize race, so some of the workshop participants are a little bit taken aback at first. I asked Katharina if there was ever any tension between the desire to be treated like a German citizen and to escape the othering, while simultaneously acknowledging that the white Germans had waged imperialist and colonialist efforts against several countries in Africa, including Ghana, Togo, Camaroon, Rawanda, Burundi, Tanzania, and Namibia. She responded that while there is a very specific and negative connotation to being “proud” to be German, she is happy to be German. She is glad to be able to claim the rights of a German citizen and to a certain extent not have to deal with the xenophobia that foreigners must.

Her experiences make a lot of sense, especially within the context of the racism of colonial Germany. As written in Showing Our Colors, “In the consciousness of the colonial avengers Blacks remained subhuman creatures to be civilized and disciplined. It is no wonder, then, that the occupation by Black soldiers was felt by much of the German population to be especially humiliating” (43).  From the introduction to the book, we learned that for some Afro-Germans, “The nicest thing they [were] ever called […] was ‘war-baby’” (vii). With these quotes in mind, we can really begin to understand that the racism against Afro-Germans was exacerbated by the colonial history in which Black people were seen as less than human. It also makes sense that Katharina could desire being treated like the German she is, while also critiquing the Germany of the past, especially considering colonial Germany’s role in enhancing racism towards Afro-Germans.

After having this discussion, we took a short but beautiful walk through part of the Kreuzberg neighborhood of Berlin to the other Joliba building, where met several more of the interns—none of whom are Germans. One thing about Joliba is that it truly is an intercultural experience. Another really important aspect of the work at Joliba that we learned about is the importance of appreciating culture and having joy. Katharina introduced us to cultural projects, such as children’s books and the kora. She emphasized that this type of cultural exchange and “fun” activity are so important to this movement, because the pain and difficulty of fighting injustice every day takes a physical and emotional toll on a person. Along these lines, in Jasmin Eding’s profile of ADEFRA (an organization we will be visiting with later in the week!), she writes, “We are working on our vision to make ADEFRA a place for empowerment for women and their children, a place of comfort, a place to learn and to grow, a place to heal” (131). I trust what Katharina has to say about self-care, not only because other scholars like Eding (and Heidi!) seem to agree but also because she said it with the authority of seeing a movement grow from the beginning to the present, with all the ups and downs and failures and successes.

Joliba 2I really appreciated this experience of being able to see a successful organization that actually helps people that is also founded on progressive principles. It is very difficult to understand for the first time the source of your oppression. It’s complicated and painful even though it might be rewarding and helpful. However, it is even more difficult to take that knowledge and create something to change the problem. What was so interesting about this visit is that we had read Showing Our Colors, and now we were seeing Joliba after 20 years of operation. As Katharina said to us, the movement started with Showing Our Colors so in the span of a week, we have seen both ends of 20 years of activism. This visit also elucidated some of the readings from this week by giving us a palpable context, i.e. meeting Katharina. There is such a large difference between reading someone’s work and then getting to speak to them about it face to face. After reading her essays, then seeing her (briefly) in the documentary, a chance to ask questions was great!

I have purchased some eggs and toast for tomorrow. Hopefully the day will start well and end well with the exciting sessions we have in store!

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MontesanoGrace Montesano is a rising senior majoring in Feminist and Gender Studies as well as Political Science at Colorado College. They love discussing politics, and are known for making obscure references to various media that no one else has heard of. Grace is skeptical of the 9/11 story we have all been told, and believes the jury is definitely still out about the existence of mermaids.

Ignorance is Never Bliss: Our Turkish Tour Experience

By Meredith Bower Street ArtDisappointing is, without a doubt, the best way for me to describe our experience on today’s Turkish Berlin Tour. Fortunately, our class readings have given us insight on the lives of Turkish Berliners in the past and present. My favorite is “’We Don’t Want To Be the Jews of Tomorrow’: Jews and Turks in Germany after 9/11” by Gökçe Yurdakul and Y. Michal Bodemann, which opened my eyes to the fierce racism that Turks experience daily in Germany. It has gotten to a point that, as Yurdakul and Bodemann point out, “leaders in Turkish immigrant associations stress the similarities between the racism against Turks and anti-Semitism” (45). Scarier still, this racism is quickly shrugged off by many Germans. Turkish rights are simply not seen as important. Yurdakul and Bodemann further explore this in their comparison between treatment of German Turks and German Jews. They address a “double standard, tolerating Jewish practices while opposing Turkish ones” and how this “is another reason why Turks have associated themselves with Jews, and ask for equal recognition in public space” (57). After our readings, I hoped to explore these issues even more, and had numerous questions lined up—mostly regarding the aggressive stereotyping that surrounds the Turkish community. Unfortunately, my questions had to go unanswered, as the tour took an unplanned turn and ended after only thirty minutes. Rather than addressing and problematizing the hurtful narrative that Heinz Ickstadt describes as the “fantasy” of the “‘bad, bad Turk,’ a mean tough, deceitfully clever with his knife—in any case, potentially a criminal” (572) in “Appropriating Difference: Turkish-German Rap,” our tour guide actually played into this stereotype. He warned us “not to be afraid” of the surrounding residents in this predominantly Turkish part of Kreuzberg (a neighborhood we have been to multiple times and in which we have never had any issues). Though he did speak briefly of the migratory history of Turkish communities and how that created major identity crises within the community, I felt as if he treated the original Turkish status of “guest worker” as though it were something the Turkish ought to thank the Germans profusely for, because it was the Germans who “saved” these people from “disaster.” This standpoint is extremely privileged coming from a white, German male, and obviously does not consider the theories and politics of those who actually experiencing that hard, treacherous labor. Stop RassismusFurthermore, his narrative focused primarily on violence and “street gangs” that he claimed were mostly influenced by American hip hop narratives, such as the films Colors and Menace II Society. There was no mention of any resistive and/or generative aspects of the Turkish community in Germany. Rather, Turks were portrayed as a nuisance. And sadly enough, this seems to be a typical mindset. As Jin Haritaworn points out in “Queer Injuries: The Racial Politics of ‘Homophobic Hate Crime’ in Germany,” the “post-migrant population” is represented as “unassimilable and disentitled” (71). Haritaworn further explains how the Turkish community is viewed as a bunch of “homophobic Muslims,” people who “cannot handle diversity and present an urgent threat to it” (71). Therefore, they take the blame for most homophobic hate crime taking place in Germany. Because of this, the tour came to a dramatic close as Heidi and all of us cringed when our tour guide laughed and told us he could not take us into a T-shirt shop run by a former member of the “36 Boys,” because “we would probably get stabbed.” At this point, Heidi intervened and the next twenty minutes consisted of her strictly (and intellectually) informing him just how offensive his tour had been. He was shocked at Heidi’s accusations, though he did listen to the criticism and even began taking notes on what Heidi was saying. Despite his attempts to understand, the deed had been done, and I was incredibly saddened by how he constructed the Turkish community. Had I not had any previous knowledge about the Turkish community here, including Kreuzberg, I may have believed that the community is erratically violent and that Kreuzberg is an area that needs to be avoided at all costs. In reality, however, I have not seen or experienced any cold-hearted aggression from a Turkish person (and we live among Turkish folks in Wedding). I have also thoroughly enjoyed spending a few of my days and nights in Kreuzberg. The major issue at hand here is, as Heidi addressed with him, his perpetuation of extremely dangerous ignorance. Unfortunately, his tour company assigned him to lead this tour when he knew nothing of the topic. Our tour with him was the first “Turkish Tour” he had ever done. From the very beginning, he spoke of using Wikipedia as his source of information in order to build this tour. It should go without saying that an entire community and its history cannot be whittled down to a single Wikipedia search. Fuck Ur SexismAll of the emotions, experiences, issues, and viewpoints that should be discussed when teaching about Turkish history, culture, and politics cannot be quickly jotted down in a notebook at the naïve request of your supervisor. Accurate, complex narratives demand passion and intellect, and clearly there was none within this man who declared to us that Turkish history is “boring.” Today was a spot-on example of how racism continues to be deeply intertwined into society. To be clear, the racist is not necessarily the blatant asshole on the street shouting derogatory terms. Many racists today are the ignorant (and sometimes very “nice”) ones who do not care enough to educate themselves. It is necessary to stop this, because without an awareness or acknowledgment of their ignorance, skewed narratives, such as the one we experienced today, will continue to be shared, learned, and maintained.


MeredithMeredith Bower is a sophomore at Colorado College from Dallas, Texas. Though her major is undeclared, she loves to take courses in Feminist & Gender Studies and English. She is also planning to take prerequisite courses for Nursing School. She is a member of Kappa Alpha Theta, and participates in a weekly ballroom dance adjunct. Her ideal meal would be pepperoni pizza with a Diet Coke followed by a big scoop of gelato. She loves sleeping in late and cuddling with her cat, Lola. Alongside Lola, she also has another cat named Izzy and a dog-named Molly. Fun fact, she is also a certified vinyasa yoga teacher. Meredith is extremely excited to be in Berlin and cannot wait to start exploring!