As heteropatriarchal capitalism continues to force us into consumerism and compliance, we are finding that our struggles are being siloed and separated by physical as well as virtual borders.

And with the additional challenges of a global pandemic to overcome, this divide-and-conquer strategy has been favorable for the proliferation of exploitation across many areas.

Yet, From September 1 to September 30, 2021, Crear | Résister | Transform: a festival for feminist movements! took us on a journey of what it means to embody our realities in virtual spaces. At the festival, feminist activists from across the world came together, not only to share experiences of hard-won freedoms, resistances, and cross-borders solidarities, but to articulate what a transnational form of togetherness could look like. 

It is this togetherness that has the potential to defy borders, weaving a vision for a future that is transformative because it is abolitionist and anti-capitalist. Spread out over a month, across digital infrastructures that we occupied with our queerness, our resistance, and our imaginaires, the festival showed a way to deviate from the systems that make us complicit in the oppression of others and ourselves. 

Though Audre Lorde taught us that the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house, Sara Ahmed showed us that we can misuse them. Because we had to make space for assembly, in spite of all the other demands on our time, it became possible to imagine a disruption to the reality of heteropatriarchal capitalism.

Now, if we understand assembly as a form of pleasure, then it becomes possible to make the link between transgressive pleasure and transnational/transdigital resistance. Between the kinds of pleasure that challenges borders on the one hand, and queerness, campiness, land and indigenous struggle, anti-capitalism, and anti-colonial organizing on the other. 

This issue attempted to capture a sense of how the festival’s exercise in assembly took on multiple shapes and imaginations. Beyond direct collaborations with some of its speakers and dreamers, we brought on a plethora of other voices from the Global South to be in conversation with many of its themes and subjects. Below is a map of some of the festival’s panels that most inspired us.

Always good to establish ground rules.

Celluloid Ishtar

When I was 6, I learned that my grandfather owned a movie theater. My mother recounted to me how it had opened in the early 1960s, when she was also about 6 years old. She remembered that they screened The Sound of Music on the first night...

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Mariam Mekiwi is a filmmaker and photographer from Alexandria and living and working in Berlin.

“Now might be a good time to rethink what a revolution can look like. Perhaps it doesn’t look like a march of angry, abled bodies in the streets. Perhaps it looks something more like the world standing still because all the bodies in it are exhausted—because care has to be prioritized before it’s too late.” 
- Johanna Hedva (https://getwellsoon.labr.io/)

Hospitals are institutions, living sites of capitalism, and what gets played out when somebody is supposed to be resting is a microcosm of the larger system itself. 

Institutions are set out to separate us from our care systems – we find ourselves isolated in structures that are rigidly hierarchical, and it often feels as if care is something done to us rather than given/taken as part of a conversation. Institutional care, because of its integration into capitalist demand, is silo-ed: one person is treating your leg and only your leg, another is treating your blood pressure, etc. 

Photographer Mariam Mekiwi had to have surgery last month and documented the process. Her portraits of sanitized environments – neon white lights, rows after rows of repetitive structures – in a washed-out color palette reflect a place that was drained of life and movement. This was one of the ways Mariam kept her own spirit alive. It was a form of protest from within the confines of an institution she had to engage with.

The photos form a portrait of something incredibly vulnerable, because watching someone live through their own body’s breakdown is always a sacred reminder of our own fragility. It is also a reminder of the fragility of these care systems, which can be denied to us for a variety of reasons – from not having money to not being in a body that’s considered valuable enough, one that’s maybe too feminine, too queer or too brown.  

Care experienced as disembodied and solitary, that is subject to revocation at any moment, doesn’t help us thrive. And it is very different from how human beings actually behave when they take care of each other. How different would our world look like if we committed to dismantling the current capitalist structures around our health? What would it look like if we radically reimagined it?

تقديم تحليل كفء للأجساد البحثيّة، يستوجب بالضرورة تسخيرًا شاملا لكافّة الأدوات الحميميّة…

أفضّل المقاربة التقاطعيّة لما تشتمل عليه من مداعبة ممنهجة باللسان والأصابع

This project is built in collaboration with:

Love Letters to Feminist Movements

As you may or may not know, AWID is celebrating its 40th Anniversary in 2022 - around the themes of “Gather, Seed, and Disrupt.” To honor this occasion we have invited AWID members, partners and staff to write their own “Love Letter to Feminist Movements”. Together, we have sparked a constellation of feminist movements. Stay close as we forge on the journey ahead and continue to Gather, Seed, and Disrupt.

A note about Our Collection Of Love Letters:

All of these letters are written by activists who are sharing their diverse experiences in feminist movements. Some of them may include difficult or challenging content about abuse, sexual violence, conflict, exclusion and other potential triggering or upsetting pieces. While these letters are filled with love, please take care of yourself when reading the letters.