Margalit Goldberg

Blackness in America and Europe: Where the Grey Space Exists

by Monica Carpenter

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

The Black experience has never been uniformed, but being in Berlin and studying a different part of the Diaspora outside the U.S. has made it clear how intricate and vast it is. The complexities of Black identity and justice I want to explore have been primarily inspired by the work and wisdom of Mumbi Nkonde, Mitchell Esajas, Jasmin Eding, and my professor, Heidi R Lewis. My main interest in blackness has been rooted in the U.S. and the lingering impacts of slavery on Black Americans. My perspective of the Black Diaspora was never entirely limited but it was definitely lacking.

Before coming to Berlin, I was so excited to travel outside the U.S. for new experiences, but I was expecting to notice a difference in the Black culture and interactions. I did not expect the methods of community-building amongst Afro-Europeans and how they define their connections to blackness. Obviously, my views on Afro-European experiences and how they compare to Black American experiences are limited to my own perspective and the short time in which I’ve observed and listened to Afro-European stories and histories. It is important to highlight there cannot be any definitive claims on Blackness–to speak on the complexity of Black people, we must be comfortable with grey space. Dr. Lewis had said this in one of our recent class sessions, and it continues to be relevant to me as I experience Germany as a Black American woman.

My positionality as an American has played a huge role in how I have digested my time in Germany and the conversations we have had the past two weeks. I have been learning about Black issues and Black joy my entire life but always from an American perspective. Because of the frameworks through which Black history has been taught to me, I feel very unified with Black people. I understand my own Blackness and other Black people through shared experiences, a shared history, and a shared sense of pride. Although we have a lot of differences, the sense of community I feel in the U.S. certainly extends to the Black people I have met in Berlin. Whether it is the smile I receive from someone passing by while walking to the train or the pride I feel listening to the success of the Black women who have spoken to our class, I am so happy to be a part of such a widespread community. Regardless of our geographical location or ancestry, there is a strong feeling of solidarity amongst us that I did not really know was there before leaving the U.S. Being in another country was never fathomable to me, and it is still difficult to believe even now as I write this. Even more surprising is that there is a part of the Black community that exists in a place I never saw myself being in.

Europe, especially Germany, has always been depicted as a white country to me. I knew there were people of color in Europe, but everything I have been taught about it in school or online does not include them. Although representation is lacking in the U.S., Black people are an integral part of describing what America looks like–undeniably so. There are so many Black cartoons I grew up watching, Black musicians I listened to, and Black people I interacted with despite attending white schools. From what I heard at the BlackEurope: The Beginnings of Black Self-Organization in Europe and from Jasmin Eding, representation is almost non-existent comparatively. In our talk with Eding, she described her “Black coming out” story as she named it. My understanding of what it means to “come out” as Black is to fully claim your brown skin and the experiences attached to it. Jasmin comes from a bi-racial family living in the countryside of Germany. Her father was a U.S. Soldier who started a family with a white German woman. He then returned to the States as did many of the newfound Black fathers who were stationed in Germany. This left Jasmin to be the only source of blackness within her home besides her siblings. In addition to being raised by a white mother, she lived in an area with a particularly low Black population. Her coming out as black was imperative to embracing an identity that was not properly fostered in her youth. This was really shocking to me, because I have always been proud to be Black. I was raised to claim it in every situation, and it has been part of my identity my entire life because of my parents’ influence. I did not like to hear how deprived Jasmin and other Afro-German youth could be from a lack of Black representation. This is not to say my connection to Blackness is stronger or better, but it is different. Jasmin had to search for her Black community. Mine began within my own home. My dad passed it down to me and gave me the opportunities and the knowledge to understand and embrace Black American culture. Regardless, Jasmin fully loves her Blackness and said she was happy to be in spaces with just Black German women. She even helped build a network of people that connect her and others to blackness. Her story as a Black woman is relatable but also specific to Black Europeans.

Photo Credit: Erin Huggins

The conference echoed the disparity of the Black European community but the speakers also found this to be empowering. Mumbi Nkonde talked about identity as well as Black Europe’s relationship to Black America. Because Black people are so widespread within Europe, Black people have to actively find community. Nkonde spoke about how Black Europeans often do not relate to a singular nationality such as Afro-German. She said that for many Afro-Europeans, Black hardship and joy can be compared to the various other countries in Europe because they share a common experience of being Black in white-dominated countries. This is particularly relevant considering the close proximity between European countries. She spoke about how Black Europeans will move around Europe and experience similar hardships as Black people regardless of the country they are in. As a Black American, I feel particularly connected to America and not other countries regarding my identity as a Black woman. They way Nkonde talked about Black identity makes it clear that blackness can be much more complex than the way that I have often understood it.

The conference also highlighted America’s influence on blackness outside the U.S. Mitchell Esajas discussed Europe’s perceived tendency to mimic Black movements within the U.S. He referenced the Black Panthers and Black Lives Matter Movement specifically, as there are European versions of each. Audience members and himself questioned the validity of Black European movements if they are rooted in American initiatives. This conversation only made it more clear to me how much America is centered even regarding marginalized communities. Black Europeans obviously have their own culture and connection to blackness that differs from the experiences of Black Americans, but how much autonomy do they have if they feel restricted to the American initiatives?

Overall, being in Germany as a Black American has made me realize how much privilege I have been granted by my citizenship. This is not to say the experiences of Black Americans are easier or more difficult than Black Europeans’, but it is important to recognize the advantages of being American with respect to Black identity and community. The Afro-Germans who spoke to our class and those we read shared their difficulties in discovering a community and proclaiming their blackness. This narrative is also somewhat shared by Black Americans, as we also lack representation. But the lack of representation experienced by Afro-Germans extends to a level of disconnect and erasure I have not felt. This is where the grey space exists in the Black Diaspora. Black people globally are experiencing similar hardships, joy, pride, and a sense of community, but we are impacted in vastly different ways.

Monica Carpenter is a junior majoring in Sociology at Colorado College. On campus, she’s involved with theatre, arts and crafts, and she’s a Student Ambassador at the Worner Desk. An immediate vibe check about Monica: her favorite color is purple or brown; she has a Gemini sun but has five cancer placements; and she can read tarot cards. Her favorite thing about Berlin so far has been all the nature embedded in the city, as well as the two Euro coins instead of paper dollars. A major culture shock she experienced since being here is the shared love for sparkling water and the fact that water is often not free. Overall, she really enjoyed her time in the city and is happy to have taken this course!

The Wall Museum + the Berliner Unterwelten Tour

by Margalit Goldberg

Photo Credit: Margalit Goldberg

I think I romanticize the Cold War too much. Or maybe the right word is not “romanticize,” but the International Spy Museum in Washington D.C. and podcasts about ridiculous CIA covert operations have led me to believe the Cold War was mostly just for show—a ridiculous period when tremendous amounts of money and manpower were put into ideas and tactics that, thankfully, never came to fruition. However, the stories I’m forgetting are the ones of bloody proxy wars, such as in Vietnam, and lives that were upended by the construction of the Berlin Wall. Not to mention the fear of total annihilation from an atom bomb that gripped the general population. I need to readjust my perspective and remember the stories of how everyday citizens were affected, not just secret agents or diplomats, and I sought to do that during our session on Thursday.

We began our day by going to The Wall Museum, which is connected to the East Side Gallery. A chaotic blur of multimedia led us through a series of rooms providing a mix of personal narrative and overviews of the Cold War and the Berlin Wall. After World War II (WWII), Germany was divided and occupied by each of the victors. The West was divided into three parts occupied by France, Britain, and the United States, and the East was occupied by the Soviet Union. However, Berlin—situated squarely in the East of Germany—created an issue. So, it was decided that, like the whole of Germany, Berlin would be split into East and West. In 1946, the Cold War began, but it wasn’t until 1961 that tensions had escalated enough for the Berlin Wall to be built. The German Democratic Republic or GDR (East Germany) had lost a significant amount of its population from emigration to the West and wanted to prevent additional losses. Nikita Khrushchev advised East Germany to inhibit access between the two sides of the city and on August 12, 1961, Walter Ulbricht, First Secretary of the Socialist Unity Party of Germany, enabled the beginning of construction of the Berlin Wall. The wall was not only a physical barrier between East and West but a symbolic “Iron Curtain” representing the ideological split between the U.S. and the Soviet Union.

Whenever a wall is built or a border is created, people will cross it by any means necessary. People jumped out of apartment windows, stole trains to transport citizens, dug perilous tunnels, and swam across canals. Yet, the insidious nature of the Berlin Wall was that each time it was breached, the GDR would figure out how it happened and then close that loophole. Each time someone crossed through to the West, they inadvertently made it harder for the next person who attempted.

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

Between 1961 and 1989, 138 people died attempting to cross the Wall. What shocked me the most were the deaths that occurred between the Osthafen docklands and Oberbaum|Schilling Bridge over the Spree River. There were 18 fatalities in that border zone, eleven of them Eastern refugees. The other seven were West Berliners who fell into the river and drowned. They were unable to be helped by West Berlin police or fire service because the Spree was Eastern territory. By the time GDR services were contacted, it was often too late, and the victim had drowned. Eventually, an agreement between the East and West was made for accidents and emergencies along the river. As I read this information, placed on a relatively inconspicuous placard on the balcony overlooking the Spree, I was saliently reminded of all the victims of governments that think impermeable and protected borders are an effective solution—all of those who are hurt by borders without even trying to cross them.

The Wall Museum, not surprisingly, solely presented a Western German perspective of the events that led to the construction and then eventual deconstruction of the Wall. I wish the museum had focused on what daily life was like on either side of the Wall, but instead, it limited the personal narratives to stories of escape from Eastern Germany. How did families that were split stay in contact? What did dissidence look like in Eastern Germany under Communist rule? This also makes me wonder if former East Germans feel as if the narrative of the lives they lived is inaccurate or doesn’t provide the complexities they wish it did.

Later that evening, I ended up seeing a German comedy with a group of study abroad students from the college my sister attends. The film, Stasi Komodie (A Stasi Comedy), was directed by Leander Haußmann and followed the life of a young boy living in East Berlin who is recruited to be a Stasi agent and spy on a counterculture movement in Prenzlauer Berg. He ends up becoming an underground poet and living a double life. The movie poked fun at the ridiculousness of many Stasi covert missions, but also lent complexity to the lives of East Berliners, especially those involved in dissident movements. The film also included quite a bit of ostalgie, nostalgia for specific aspects of life in East Germany. The movie used a motif of the specific cheery-looking crosswalk man that was specific to East Germany but remained after reunification upon request of the people. This was an interesting look into how life in East Berlin is being portrayed with humor thirty years after reunification.

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

In 1985, Mikhail Gorbachev became General Secretary of the Soviet Union and was a big proponent of democratic reforms and Glasnost, permitting greater openness and discussion of political and social issues. By 1989, the Cold War was beginning to thaw and many countries in the Eastern Bloc were on the verge of revolutions. On November 9, the Berlin Communist Party announced at midnight it would allow people to freely cross the border. The Wall had fallen. As the museum recounted the joyous events and celebrations that subsequently occurred, I found myself feeling nostalgic for an event I wasn’t even alive for. How cool would it have been to take a hammer to the wall or listen to Pink Floyd perform as the hope of reunification intoxicated citizens?

Yet, I find myself also wondering if East Berliners were aware that their political and social structure was going to be completely upended once again. The museum painted the narrative that the wall fell, and everything was reunified and perfect. From a historical perspective, we can see that the fall of the Berlin Wall was the beginning of the end of many state supports in East Germany. In “Women and East Germany Today” by louise k. davidson, I was delighted to read about all the reproductive freedom and support for having children that women had in the GDR: “Women have long enjoyed the freedom to make informed decisions about birth control without worrying about its affordability of availability.” Still, I can only imagine the experiences of a difficult reunification for further marginalized people, stories not often told in the “mainstream.” In “Feminism and Post-Communism,” Nanette Funk explains that “in virtually all post-communist countries there is a tendency towards a repositioning of women away from the workplace and into the family,” citing high unemployment rates for women in the former GDR and the Soviet Union and decreased access to abortion and family planning resources.

Both davidson and Funk take a transnational approach to what feminist work should focus on in reunified Germany. They argue that not only did former GDR women have less support for reproductive labor after reunification, but that they also had different understandings of feminism and ideas about the goals of a women’s movement. This has led me to have a deeper understanding of the social and cultural implications of the division of Germany. I think seeing transnational thinking within a single country can help us to understand and extrapolate that different groups have radically different experiences that lead to their understanding of feminism. If people are to work across those divides, they must be willing to understand the other’s background.

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

The second part of our session was the “East-West Conflict in the Underground” tour with Berliner Unterwelten (Berlin Underworlds). As we made our way down two flights of stairs into a bunker in West Berlin, I was afraid our tour would be led by some doomsday prepper dead-set on convincing us of the importance of bunker preparation. On the contrary, we had a wonderful guide, Elliot, who was not only extremely knowledgeable about the history but provided a critical perspective on the Cold War and the absurdity of the arms race and mutually assured destruction.

We began by touring a bunker that had been updated in the 80s to be a fallout shelter but had been used over 300 times as a bomb shelter during WWII. Despite believing Berlin wouldn’t have been bombed in the Cold War due to both sides of the conflict having citizens in the area, I was assured by Elliot that the city would have been sacrificed and that there were plans that could have been used to stage an attack if necessary. If bombed, the city of 3 million only had 28,000 spots in bunkers. As the guide described how ill-prepared the bunker was to handle the fallout and human survival, it became clearer to me that an attempt to survive an atomic bomb is futile, to say the least. As we sat under a direct replica of Little Boy, the atomic bomb that was used on Hiroshima, I struggled to comprehend how a 10 x 2.5 ft. piece of metal could generate 16,000 tons of TNT power and murder 139,000 innocent people. And how could someone decide it was necessary to hold that much power let alone detonate it? This was a stark reminder of how close the world once was to annihilation and that we still have this amount of power, more even.

Elliot ended the tour by telling us he believed good diplomacy ended the Cold War and prevented the detonation of atomic bombs. He gave the example of Stanislav Petrov, a Lieutenant Colonel of the Soviet Air Defense Forces, who judged a U.S. missile launch warning as a false alarm and made the decision not to launch a retaliation, thus preventing nuclear war. Another example was the Soviet border soldiers who were ordered to fire one warning shot and then to shoot to kill. Yet, many soldiers refused to shoot to kill, disobeying orders and therefore saving lives. I can’t believe I’m saying this but, this tour gave me some semblance of hope, hearing stories of those who resisted violence and knowing I’ve never in my life genuinely had to think about using a bunker. Maybe our world is moving in the right direction.

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

The Cold War was fundamentally an ideological conflict between capitalism and communism that affected almost every part of the world. The demarcation of Germany and subsequent construction of the Berlin Wall created division in an already fractured country. In 1945, two nations were created in a country that had not long ago rallied for an idea of nationhood far from what the East and West provided. Divides were not healed before more divides were created. Reunification came at last in 1990, but the future also contained struggles for women, racial minorities, and the unemployed that we must not forget. As Ika Hügel-Marshall poignantly writes in “Crossing Borders, Overcoming Boundaries,” “As we can see in Berlin, the society around me has a long way to go before it recognizes that crossing borders does not mean overcoming boundaries, if experience is limited to national borders.”

Margalit Goldberg is a rising sophomore at Colorado College from Denver, Colorado. She is interested in pursuing History-Philosophy and Feminist and Gender Studies although she has still not declared a major. Described by a friend as “a messy bookcase of a person”, she loves to learn and explore ways of knowing. She is especially excited to be in Berlin connecting the stories of marginalized people to the complex history of the city. When she isn’t reading for class or deep in a Wikipedia rabbit hole, you can find Margalit climbing and setting at the campus gym, having dinner parties with friends, and engaging in non-violent activism with the Bijou Community in Colorado Springs.

The 2022 #FemGeniusesinBerlin

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

Click here to view a slideshow of pictures, and follow @FemGeniuses and|or @AudresFootsteps on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook to see more pictures and videos.

Multimedia Podcast Index:

“The RomaniPhen Feminist Archive + the Romanja Power Walking Tour with Estera Iordan” by Christiana García-Soberanez
“A Conversation with Jasmin Eding” by Eliza Strong
“Jewish History & Culture Walking Tour + Museum Blindenwerkstatt Otto Weidt with Adam Schonfeld” by Bridget Hanley
“BlackEurope: The Beginnings of Black Self-Organization in Europe” by Erin Huggins
“German Colonialism Walking Tour w/ Josephine Apraku + the Neues Museum” by Amalia Lopez
“A Conversation with Sharon Dodua Otoo” by Latra Demaçi
“The Wall Museum + the Berliner Unterwelten Tour” by Margalit Goldberg
“Blackness in America and Europe: Where the Grey Space Exists” by Monica Carpenter
“A Conversation with Dana Maria Asbury, Mona El Omari, and Iris Rajanayagam” by Vicente Blas-Taijeron
“Graffiti & Street Art Walking Tour + the Urban Nation Museum” by Alexis Cornachio
“A Conversation with Judy Lynne Fisher” by River Clarke
“Queer Berlin Walking Tour w/ Mal Pool + the Schwules*Museum” by Riley Hester
“A Street Art Workshop with Berlin Massive” by Judy Gonzalez

To read and|or listen to the finales and view the indices and slideshows for previous #FemGeniusesinBerlin, click here. 

A Conversation with Sharon Dodua Otoo

by Latra Demaçi

“One of the first ideas I had while dreaming up the Witnessed Series was to curate a book based on correspondence between different Black community organizations in Germany and Black organizations in different English-speaking countries around the world: conversations which would transcend borders.”

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

These are Sharon Dodua Otoo’s words that struck me as I read the “Preface” for Heidi R. Lewis, Dana Maria Asbury, and Jazlyn Andrews’ In Audre’s Footsteps: Transnational Kitchen Table. They firmly cemented into my mind as I envisioned her writing fit like a puzzle piece in the ever-expanding realm of the Black movement, more specifically, the Black movement in Germany.

I wanted to be somewhat prepared for the day’s blogging session—Sharon Dodua Otoo is a British writer, activist, and publicist of many politically engaged pieces on feminism, culture, and diversity—I read from her website, as I quickly Googled Otoo and her Witnessed Series. With the grandeur of this online description and “Preface,” it was difficult not to imagine the author’s talk. I could see her coming into the room, smiling politely, awkwardly asking about our names, and diving into her transnational Black feminist intellectual ventures as a person who had lived in the UK and had moved to Berlin in her early 30s. My “background check” neatly fits into the Black and transnational feminist theorizing I had come to understand so far.

I was sitting in one of the corner chairs around the rectangle-surfaced table when Otoo slowly strolled in, nodding her head at the room in an acknowledging manner. It was anticlimactic but reassuring as I witnessed such an accomplished person move with such unassuming ease. It wasn’t that she didn’t smile politely or ask us to introduce ourselves. It was in the way she excitedly urged us to ask questions: “What is your guilty pleasure movie?” “What inspires you?” “What is your favorite dish to cook?” “What question would you not like to answer?” “What is your writing process?” These were some of the seemingly “off-topic” questions circulating the room, and I was struck by dissonance. I couldn’t help but feel that my question about her work, explicitly in relation to “transcending borders,” was a little tone-deaf at that particular moment. I went back to not knowing what to expect and let Otoo guide us in her own words and not the ones I had preconceived prior to the session.

Photo Credit: Latra Demaçi

Otoo answered each question with poignant lightheartedness and lighthearted humor. As a response to who inspires her, the author was decisive in naming Toni Morrison, the world-renowned American writer. She started by showing us a copy of Im Dunkeln spielen: Weiße Kultur und literarische Imagination (2019), the German translation of Morrison’s work of literary criticism Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination (1992). For Otoo, the German translation did not do justice to Morrison’s ability to examine the intricacy and complexity of trauma intertwined with the experience of being Black and the joy embedded within Black resistance. For her own writing, she draws inspiration from Morrison’s artistry in chronicling trauma through vivid and beautiful imagery and in constructing complex characters that blur the lines between good and evil. Therefore, she went on to emphasize the importance of concise translations that encapsulate the specificity of language which, in turn, enable complex readings of Black literature. For Otoo, it was Morrison’s complexity that made the experience of being Black in the U.S. legible and resonant, and thus what she intends to emulate with her own writing within the Black German context.

In retrospect, Otoo’s Black and transnational Feminisms didn’t emerge in this session through the explicit “promise” to “transcend borders” in portraying the Black experience. Regardless, the author’s critical perspective on the precise language, meanings, and complexity “lost in translation” did resonate with my understanding of Ika Hügel-Marshall’s “Crossing Borders, Overcoming Boundaries” from Children of the Liberation (Kraft 2020). More specifically, this chapter chronicles the testimonies of Black German post-war generations and the beginnings of a social movement. Hügel-Marshall is specifically concerned with the crossing of borders and overcoming of boundaries, internal and external, in the context of difference. As she puts it, “Crossing borders does not mean overcoming boundaries if experience is limited to national borders. For many, the internalized boundaries remain a life-long handicap, burden, and threat” (175). Here, she specifically references her observations during the fall of the Berlin Wall in terms of racism, sexism, and xenophobia as Berliners navigated their differences. For me, this idea echoed with Otoo in two particular ways.

Firstly, the translation of Morrison’s Playing in the Dark from English to German symbolized a figurative crossing of national borders through language. However, as explained by Otoo, the erasure of specificity in Morrison’s language comes at the detriment of her work’s transnational legibility and its potential in empowering Black communities in Germany. Secondly, Hügel-Marshall emphasizes the threat and burden of “internalized boundaries,” which can be understood as the differences embedded in German society that create literal and figurative borders and obstruct the overcoming of those boundaries. In the context of Im Dunkeln spielen, the idea of internalized boundaries is emulated in relation to conceptualizations of race that filter and dilute Black literature in the process of translating. In relation to such malpractice, Otoo added that it was clear to her that Playing in the Dark was not translated to attend to its legibility to Black Germans, but rather to cater to an audience that could not access the Black experience otherwise.

Ultimately, putting Hügel Marshall’s ideas in conversation with Otoo’s critical view of translating Black literature, linguistic boundaries can be crossed but will not be overcome if the specificity of language and meaning, in terms of Blackness, is not preserved and communicated. To my understanding, the overcoming of such boundaries is precisely conditioned by the extent to which a translated work is able to nurture transnational solidarity, commonality, and empowerment between Black communities within and beyond the contours of nation-states.

Photo Credit: Latra Demaçi

Furthermore, as a response to a question about her writing process, Otoo went on to add that although she does not commit herself to a specific writing process, it is vital that she portrays complicated Black characters that exist in moral, ethical, and cultural ambiguities. For her, Black characters that embody dilemmas and multidimensionality counteract a discourse on Blackness that has historically denied Black characters complexity. Otoo’s uncompromised pledge to write about and produce knowledge about the Black experience as paradoxical and intricate echoes counter-storytelling, a quintessential politic within the frameworks of Critical Race Theory and Black Feminism.

Last, but not least, Otoo emphasized the importance of Black expression and creativity as a means of building, connecting, and empowering Black communities in Germany. She exemplified this by talking about Resonanzen, a Festival of Black German Literature she curated. For the author, Resonanzen was born out of the necessity for spaces that center and celebrate Black authors and their creativity. The aim of the festival was to re-envision the literary scene in Germany by uplifting Black expression in German literature and to also criticize the ways Black authors and their work are excluded. What stood out to me was Otoo’s depiction of the festival as a place for Black German authors to connect, bond, share ideas, empower, be, and grow in each other’s presence. This image of the festival reminded me of “We Have to Stop Solely Reacting,” a conversation between Lewis, Asbury, and Iris Rajanayagam in In Audre’s Footsteps. In a discussion about Black self-organizing as responsive rather than merely reactive, Lewis emphasizes the importance of shifting the focus “from trying to convince them that we exist, and convincing them that our lives matter, and instead focusing more on us. Because to me, the things I’m good at—being a mom, being a teacher, being a writer—are because I have a community around me” (43). For me, Otoo’s Resonanzen embodies a similar idea: turning inwards and towards the ever-growing Black German community of authors to ensure it is continuously celebrated, supportive, and successful in individual terms.

I was in total dissonance when the session began. I was distraught in wonder about what she was thinking, especially while she was smiling politely. In my mind, I had figuratively put words in her mouth and it was difficult to discard any of my pre-conceived ideas. However, being in Sharon Dodua Otoo’s presence and listening to her helped me understand Black and transnational feminisms in more implicit and even ambiguous ways. Firstly, I got the opportunity to think more seriously about Hügel-Marshall’s ideas about crossing borders and overcoming boundaries in the context of translating Black literature. Furthermore, I was also exposed to the significance of concise translation as an attempt to enable transnational legibility between Black communities around the world. That being said, I reached the belief that “lost in translation” is a taken-for-grantedness that Black and marginalized communities at large cannot afford, especially as they work to self-assert their transnationality and complexity. Last but not least, Otoo’s work in community-building furthered my understanding of Black feminism’s uncompromised politics on creativity as a means to build community and Lewis’s emphasis on shifting Black-organizing as one that is inward rather than outward-oriented.

Latra Demaçi is a rising junior from Prishtina, Kosovo, and a Feminist and Gender Studies Major at Colorado College. She is also interested in Psychology and hopes to study both Gender Studies and Psychology for her post-graduate studies. In the long run, she hopes to return to Kosovo and help her local university develop a more advanced program in Gender Studies. This is her first time in Berlin, and she has been loving it so far! The accessibility of the city, the various cultural events, and the many hidden histories keep her busy and engaged. She hopes you enjoy reading about her experiences and observations!

German Colonialism Walking Tour w/ Josephine Apraku + the Neues Museum

by Amalia Lopez

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

On Tuesday, we attended a colonialism walking tour in one of Berlin’s thirty “African Quarters” in the neighborhood of Wedding with Josephine Apraku. The tour focused on several locations—including Ghanastraße, Petersallee, and Mockingbird square—where we discussed who and what had been memorialized by those names. This was especially relevant to me in light of the protests following the murder of George Floyd in the summer of 2020. These protests pushed for social change in many forms, including the destruction and removal of statues that memorialize colonialists and those who either enacted or fought for slavery. In Germany, similar discussions have happened regarding these and other street names.

For example, Ghanastraße ties back to Germany’s colonialism. Particularly, a German “fortress” on the Ghanaian coast and was part of the Atlantic Slave Trade. However, its existence is not often remembered or discussed. Similarly, Petersallee was originally named after colonialist Carl Peters who was a particularly violent man who was once called back to Berlin after burning down the homes of one of his former female partners and her new partner. However, his return home was not due to the violent nature of his acts but rather how it reflected on his country. In 1986, there was a big push by German activists to rename streets in a move to no longer honor German colonialism. In turn, the street underwent a “perspective change” and is now meant to honor Hans Peters who aided efforts against Nazis.

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

As I stood there, looking up at this green sign learning about this violent man, I thought about what kind of violence is acceptable. Along these lines, Apraku told us that one of the ways people in power attempted to prevent resistance was by limiting enslaved people’s ability to communicate with one another. They intentionally placed people from different regions together on slave ships to prevent them from being able to organize. However, enslaved people continued to find ways to resist, including training their bodies using sports such as capoeira. Learning, understanding, and maintaining language is seen as violent under the eyes of colonialists. However, theft, murder, rape, and genocide are acts of cleansing and sovereignty, according to this logic. So, I stood there thinking about Carl Peters, his legacy, and how hard people have fought to preserve it.

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

At the end of the tour, we visited a large panel planted in the ground. One of the first things you might notice is graffiti scribbled over it, random tags that covered up the German letters in certain spots. There are also two sides, each telling a slightly different version of the time period. One side showcased an image of a postcard depicting a death camp and colonialists standing over and holding human bones. The bones were being packed and prepared to be sent back home. I thought about the type of person who would purchase such a post card to write home to their own families. “Hi, Dear. My travels are going well. Hope to see you soon. Love, Mommy.” The normalization of Black pain in Germany has been long in its duration and yet most often remains unaddressed.

With all these thoughts swirling in my head, we journeyed over to the Neues Museum to examine the exhibits. The museum had a beautiful, inviting architectural design. I have liked museum since I was a kid. I have been a big reader throughout my life—my books often accompanying me in restaurants and stores. In other words, I enjoy reading the descriptions and gaining more historical context. So, as I walked through the exhibit, this was my main focus. Reading and analyzing the written descriptions of stolen artifacts and art, one in particular caught my eye. It was the description for “The Repression of Chaos” formulated by Hermann Schievelbein, which was a large frieze high up on the museum walls in the “Greek courtyard” filled with natural light. It was towards the top of walls, so your neck needed to be strained to look up and examine the intricacies from 30 feet below. The description of the piece read: “King Sahurê, as hunter, slays wild animals and thereby subordinates nature which appears before him as personifications of fertility, handing him the fruits of the earth. The gods are shown bringing captive Nubians, Libyans, and Asians to the King, while order is being established in foreign affairs by the cargo ships bringing goods from Lebanon to Egypt.” The description insisted these men, these kings and their pawns of colonialism, were simply a natural occurrence. In fact, they boldly declare that enslavement is an act committed by god.

Photo Credit: Dr. Heidi R. Lewis

I read and reread the second line, and I was dumbfounded by the lack of ownership in the art and its trailing paragraph—this courtyard connected to the Egyptian exhibit where many stolen artifacts sat behind broken glass looking both beautiful and mournful. I want to note that the Egyptian exhibit was almost entirely in the dim basement and the one area where sunshine poured down was dedicated mainly to the Greeks. These artifacts did not naturally arrive here, and surely god did not deliver them. One of the main sections of the Egyptian exhibit was dedicated to sarcophaguses. It was haunting as I thought about who once found rest in them, their bodies removed and placed elsewhere while this intricately decorated frame was brought here. Even in death, their bodies could not find rest or solitude.

As I walked through the other exhibits, such as the Greek exhibit, I thought about what could possibly rectify these thefts of life and love that were taken through such explicit violence. This is something Black Germans have been working through long before my three-week long study here. Organizations, such as Adefra, have worked to break down violence, isolation, and discrimination. They have found empowerment in unity and by prioritizing and appreciating one another’s stories, they break down these constructions. Resistance to colonialist ideologies comes in many forms: renaming, acknowledging, destruction, and listening.

Amalia Lopez is a rising junior at Colorado College. As a Chicana who grew up in Denver, she has a deep respect for social justice work and has seen its impact and essentiality in her own city. Specifically, unions, workers’ rights organizations, and Ethnic Studies has been of great importance to her and her parents. She plays rugby and has enjoyed athletics for the majority of her life. She loves to read poetry, and dancing is one of her favorite pastimes, as well as spending time with my friends. She’s a September Virgo, and she acts accordingly. She does not particularly care for fried eggs.