3. Queertopias

Intro: Manifestos for Queer Futures (english)

A project of HAU Hebbel am Ufer (Berlin), in the frame of “The Present Is Not Enough – Performing Queer Histories and Futures“
In June 2019, Berlin based theater and international production house HAU Hebbel am Ufer organizes an interdisciplinary festival focusing on the notion of queer temporality. “The Present Is Not Enough – Performing Queer Histories and Futures” analyzes both political and artistic histories as a basis for the outline of future scenarios as well as the active shaping of a queer present. Which narratives are still missing when we address queer histories? With this festival, HAU offers a contribution to the politics of memory by presenting artistic positions from diverse countries which have been underrepresented in mainstream discourse until now.
As part of the festival, HAU Hebbel am Ufer initiated an open call for artists based in Berlin, who were invited to submit proposals for a manifesto that expresses their vision for a Queer Future. 270 artists replied to the open call, 26 manifestos were selected and presented on the stage of HAU. The spectrum of projects covered a wide range, from works with cultural and socio-political references, active examinations of the past, to visions of a possible future. The selected ideas are compelling in their uncompromising and serious manners of approaching these subjects as well as in their artistic originality and sharp perspective.
“The Present Is Not Enough – Performing Queer Histories and Futures” is a festival by HAU Hebbel am Ufer, funded by the German Federal Cultural Foundation.

“Manifestos for Queer Futures” is a project of HAU Hebbel am Ufer, supported within the framework of the Alliance of International Production Houses by the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media.

Deutsche Version
Manifestos for Queer Futures
Ein Projekt des HAU Hebbel am Ufer (Berlin) im Rahmen des Festivals „The Present Is Not Enough – Performing Queer Histories and Futures“
Im Juni 2019 organisiert das Theater und internationale Produktionshaus HAU Hebbel am Ufer (Berlin) ein interdisziplinäres Festival, das den Blick auf die Idee einer queeren Zeitlichkeit richtet. „The Present Is Not Enough – Performing Queer Histories and Futures“ untersucht sowohl politische als auch künstlerische Geschichte als Grundlage für den Entwurf von Zukunftsszenarien und für die aktive Gestaltung einer queeren Gegenwart. Welche Narrative fehlen immer noch, wenn wir über queere Geschichte(n) sprechen? Mit dem Festival leistet das HAU einen Beitrag zur Erinnerungspolitik, indem es künstlerische Positionen aus verschiedenen Ländern vorstellt, die bisher im Mainstream nur unzureichend abgebildet wurden.
Als Teil des Festivals hat das HAU Hebbel am Ufer einen Open Call für Berliner Künstler_innen ausgeschrieben, die eingeladen wurden, Manifeste über ihre Vorstellung einer Queer Future einzureichen. 270 Künstler_innen haben auf den Open Call geantwortet, 26 Manifeste wurden ausgewählt und werden während des Festivals „The Present Is Not Enough“ auf der Bühne des HAU gezeigt. Die Bandbreite der Projekte war beachtlich: von Arbeiten mit kulturellen und soziopolitischen Referenzen über aktive Beschäftigungen mit der Vergangenheit bis hin zu Visionen für eine mögliche Zukunft. Die ausgewählten Ideen bestechen durch ihre kompromisslose und ernsthafte Annäherung an diese Themen sowie durch ihre künstlerische Originalität und scharfsinnige Perspektive.
„The Present Is Not Enough – Performing Queer Histories and Futures” ist ein Festival des HAU Hebbel am Ufer, gefördert durch die Kulturstiftung des Bundes.

„Manifestos for Queer Futures” ist ein Projekt des HAU Hebbel am Ufer, gefördert im Rahmen des Bündnisses internationaler Produktionshäuser von der Beauftragten der Bundesregierung für Kultur und Medien.

Version française
Un projet des théâtres HAU Hebbel am Ufer (Berlin) présenté dans le cadre du festival « The Present Is Not Enough – Performing Queer Histories and Futures »

En juin 2019, la maison internationale de production HAU Hebbel am Ufer (Berlin) organise un festival interdisciplinaire portant sur la notion de temporalité queer. Son point de départ consiste à analyser l’histoire politique et culturelle, afin d’ébaucher ensuite des scénarios pour l’avenir et de structurer le présent queer. Quels éléments narratifs font encore défaut quand nous parlons d’histoire(s) queer ? Avec ce festival, le HAU apporte sa contribution à la politique de mémoire tout en présentant des postures artistiques venues de divers pays étrangers et jusqu’ici insuffisamment représentées dans les discours dominants.

Dans le cadre de ce festival, le HAU a également lancé un concours, ouvert aux artistes berlinois.es qui ont eu la possibilité de soumettre des manifestes présentant leurs idées pour un futur queer. 270 artistes ont répondu à cet appel, 26 manifestes ont été sélectionnés et seront montrés sur la scène du HAU2 sous le titre The Present Is Not Enough. L’ensemble des propositions ont couvert une très large gamme de sujets : cela allait de projets dotés de références culturelles et sociopolitiques à des visions d’un avenir possible en passant par d’efficaces analyses du passé. Les idées finalement retenues ont fait la différence par leur approche sérieuse et sans compromis de ces thématiques ainsi que par leur originalité artistique et les judicieuses perspectives qu’elles apportaient.

« The Present Is Not Enough – Performing Queer Histories and Futures ». Avec le soutien de la Kulturstiftung des Bundes (Fondation fédérale pour la Culture).  

« Manifestos for Queer Futures » est un festival organisé par les théâtres HAU Hebbel am Ufer. Avec le soutien du Bündnis internationaler Produktionshäuser von der Beauftragten der Bundesregierung für Kultur und Medien (Alliance des maisons internationales de production de la Déléguée du Gouvernement fédéral à la Culture et aux Médias).

Iury Trojaborg and Ming Poon
A meeting point somewhere between South and East.
Not at the centre, not in the west, not in the north.
A standpoint
Where all kinds of experiences are taken into consideration
Where I can hear the voices of my ancestors
Voices so often silenced
But now I hear them, we hear them
They sing lullabies, hymns, healing songs
Like those my maternal grandmother used to sing to me
A woman who could also be a man
Exactly
At this standpoint
Masculine and feminine are not indivisible categories
They can be one and many
At the same time
And this standpoint
is more like an oasis
During the day
There is plenty of sunlight to illuminate us
and fresh water to cool us down
In the evening
a big fire warms our genderless bodies
and a super moon guides our paths into knowledge Catiti Catiti
Imara Notiá
Notiá Imara
Ipeju1
So we sing
Let us speak for ourselves
Sit down and listen
Time for silence
Still
You can always ask questions
Tupi or not tupi, that is the question2

1Excerpt of Manifesto Antropófago written and published by Brazilian poet Oswald de Andrade, 1928.
2Excerpt of Manifesto Antropófago written and published by Brazilian poet Oswald de Andrade, 1928.

Sanni Est
We live in a world that has been understood, measured and influenced by civilisation. Art, science, philosophy, all great fields that helped us use our brains to interact with each other as humans and our environment.
What we shall not ignore is that the books we read at school, paintings we exhibit in museums, universities we study at have been written, painted, founded and told by men or femmes signing as such.
What about the female & queer knowledge?
What about our stories, our points-of-view?
What would we know about the universe and our clitoris if they had not been studied dominantly by males?
What would we have said if our voices had not been shut by male dominance throughout the millennia?
If astrology as we know it is male-exclusive, then I’m afraid of it.
If biology as we know it is male-defined, then I’m allergic to it.
If music as we know it is male-invented, then I must reinvent it.
If enlightenment is a masculine concept, then I’m staying in the dark.
Photo – light
Phobia – fear, rejection
Photophobia.

The Southern Butthole Manifesto
By Pêdra Costa
The butthole’s investigations are theoretical and practical, always. Theory is on the skin and the practice comes from life. The theory only exists if there is the experience. It only transforms itself if it goes through the body. The Southern Butthole is movement. The constraints and rigid systems of the body do not flow in these studies. We do not fight against anything. Our fights were always defeated. We already learned about this in the history of the world. We are Sorceresses and Healers. Our dance and our Ginga is our fight, our way of loving, playing, being in connection with our community. We are always collective, never individual. The artfulness is the basis of our whole life against the colonizer’s project. Artfulness is not learned and taught.
Our knowledge would never be recognized if they were not appropriated by white and/or Europeanized knowledge and bodies. Our voices are not audible. Thus, we have all the autonomy and authority to found such studies. Try as we might, we will never be authorized as a field of knowledge by whiteness. We do not need its approval!
We move forward criticizing the „colonial fantasies“ about our bodies and, specifically, butts. Our fierce criticism comes from our buttholes. Our butthole is our power. So many interdictions, religious and colonial fantasies about our butts. Anthropophagy does not unite us anymore. We already ate them as a condition violently imposed by the colonial civilizing education. Now we vomit them and we shit them. To the South of the world, to the butthole of the body.

Ricardo de Paula
Out of many differences
Out of many wishes
Out of many lives gone
Out of many desires of change
Out of many colorful worlds
Out of many knowledges
Out of many prejudices
Out of many ways to love
Out of many faiths
Out of many names
Out of many survivors
Out of many … be one
Out of many One

Manifesto of a ‚Trans-Orientalist Aesthetic‘
By Mohamedali Ltaief
Last Friday night I encountered a mob of wildly milling men all yelling
“Judgment! The Last Hour’s upon us!
The return to Allah! The prophets say a sign of the End shall be
the Sun at Midnight! Here it is!
We tremble! We submit!”
I laughed & said, “This is no sun that rises as a star, but only
my friend, young Ahmad, brightening
the velvet canopy with his crystal track,
the dogstar on his forehead, venus on his cheek.”
(Abu Nuwas) (1)

Shattered by tormenting events, banished from his community, he crosses the sea.
After going through disappointments, real and existential shipwrecks and major political storms. He leaves his homeland in search of his Self. It is a departure to a no-man’s land.

Finally, he survives.
In the eternal city of Berlin, from “Günter Brus” to “El Hedi Ben Salem”,
a nostalgia of exile sets in.

A first remark: the tragedy its not “Speaking on behalf “ of the “victim”.
The tragedy is on the heart of the “Human”.

He is a hybrid monster.
Half human, half animal,
half flower, half fire.
An anomaly rather than an abnormality. (2)
His feelings are not well-known, he is constantly excluded!
He is not a person who as such contradicts a rule,
it is his very nature,
which embodies the anomalous.
Always living in a gap.
The whole city is an abstract paradigm of his own escape.
He is a phenomenon of border(s).

A second remark: “From the future” means, from the genealogy of desire.

His name is Faris, Garulphus or even Wargus.
He changes his name, wearth, wearg or friedlhos.

From Napoleon to Lawrence of Arabia, the Eastern despotism becomes a Western subject.
Heroic Orientalist in the front. Here it is generates fear and illusion.

Michel Foucault says: Speaking on behalf of others.(3)

Between Neo-Orientalism and Self-Orientalism.
Arabic pathos or a torn subjectivity.

(1). Abu Nuwas. Translated by Hakim Bey.
Abu Nuwas was the pen name of Hasin ibn Hani al Hakami, born (c. 756-813).
He is one of the most pre-eminent poets in Arabic literature, erotic/bisexual poetry from Baghdad.
(2). Giorgio Agamben. Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life.
“Homo Sacer” in ancient Roman law, is the one who is excluded form civil society, stripped from juridical rights. He is not worth enought to be sacrified to the gods but whoever kills him will not be condemned. The life that cannot be sacrificed (because it is not valuable enough), but which is, nevertheless, exposed to naked murder, is the « bare life ». Anyone who has been declared a « Homo Sacer » can only save himself by fleeing, seeking refuge in a foreign country, for he is exposed at any moment to the threat of murder.
He is constantly in relation to the power/biopolitics that has banished him.
(3). Michel Foucault. Le Gouvernement de soi et des autres.

Kübra Varol
1. Competition is capitalism.
Winning the object of our desires over the others is capitalism which is the product of natural selection.
Survival of the fittest is so BC 1000
We need to stop everything we are doing and start looking inside.
We won`t survive by getting more or making more.
We will survive by stopping at every step and questioning.
Questioning not only everything we are told but also everything our conditioned mind is telling us.
We have lots of unlayering and unwiring to do. As a community.

2. Love feels good because of the dopamine, which was programmed for natural selection.
We do everything to get it.
We do not need to reproduce anymore.
Why do we need it?
Why is it that we yearn for someone else`s embrace to feel whole?
Why is it that we yearn for someone else`s gaze to feel our own existence?
We are inflicted trauma due to a selfish system that needs us bound up.
Healing the self is only possible through a sense of belonging.
Loving gaze and embrace from outside hold space for a kind gaze and embrace for the inner self.
We want to do it ourselves, but we can`t, hence the romance.
We are searching for the ignition, For the ability to love the self.

3. Take all the chase, all the tease, all the flirt, all the effort for communication, all the nurture, all the compromises, all the touch, all the tenderness and hadouken it to yourself.
Can you?

Hey,
I wanna hold your hand while you do that.
I wanna be there while you love the heck out of yourself.
I wanna hear you tackle your scariest fears.
I wanna see you bloom with courage.
I wanna encourage you to look into the eyes of your demons and say „Hi Sweetheart, it`s so nice to meet you finally.“
I wanna hear you whisper in your own ears „I love you no matter what happens“

4. If love born from fear of death is a product of natural selection and romance from the will to capture and have more abides by capitalism, my community is where we love out of mutual growth. Our variously flavored star seeds embrace and encourage each other to bloom into cosmic skies. We squirt more vibrant star dust into the atmosphere and our lights radiate brighter when we shine together.

Johannes Müller & Philine Rinnert
Wie alles war – weiß ich;
wie alles wird, wie alles sein wird,
seh‘ ich auch,
der ew’gen Welt Urwala,
Erda, mahnt deinen Mut.

Drei der Töchter, urerschaff’ne,
gebar mein Schoss;
was ich sehe,
sagen dir nächtlich die Nornen.
Doch höchste Gefahr
führt mich heut‘
selbst zu dir her.
Höre! Höre! Höre!
Alles was ist, endet
Ein düst’rer Tag dämmert den Göttern:
dir rat‘ ich, meide den Ring!

(Rheingold Scene 4 – Richard Wagner)

LIVFE
By Ian Kaler
This evening is dedicated to my FAMILIES.
And to YOU as the sensitive and feeling bodies you are
with your own stories, that brought you here tonight.

I made this piece
to mourn and make piece with my dad, passing.
My dad was a self-medicating alcoholic,
with an undiagnosed personality disorder
and a big child.
He has introduced me to horses
for which I’ll always be greatful.

I found this – in a book I’m reading:
„A horse is a flight animal. Even a stallion, if he can,
will choose flight over confrontation.
Picture the most sensitive person you’ve ever known;
a horse is ten times more sensitive.
A horse is a naked nervous system.. he is a child.*

The child’s name is Pete.
As far as I know Pete died of throat cancer, in Jakarta.
I don’t know the exact date or circumstances,
but around the time he passed
maybe 10 years ago
I woke up early one morning before sunrise
with an intuition that Pete had died.

It took me a couple of years to find someone who confirmed his death
and
from there to make sense of his passing away
and the stages
of my unresolved feelings.

***

Don’t mistake me for me.
I am many things.

I am for the second time in my life here on stage.
The first time was yesterday.

But it might be the 18th or 19th time that I am in this theater.
The first time I was here
I was about 8 years old.

And our parents took my brother and me to see something,
I don’t remember the piece,
but I remember that we had binoculars
and that I felt as if we were in a forest observing deer.

I try not to anticipate who I might become tomorrow
in a year or two
and beyond that.

I want to be open to the unknown.
I want to be surprised.
I am many things.

***

I am inpatient when it comes to long-term plans
I am priviledged for many reasons
I am into horses and muscle cars and
I am constantly hungry
I am going to the gym three times a week
I am 36
conventionally speaking
but then I am also 4.5 years old
and sometimes my felt age varies.

I am sometimes sad
but find it hard to actually cry.
I am angry recently
because I allow myself to be.
I am most of the times happy
if I take the time it takes
for what ever it is I am processing.
I am many things.

***

I am trans-lucent at night
I am trans-fixed by your sight
I am trans-sonic
I am trans-versal
I am so trans-som(e)
I am your trans-sister, sister
I am on trans-mission
in a trans-dance
I am many things.
And I am
TRANS.

Tucké Royale
COMING OUT-ZWANG
Warum man die Schwulen verachtet. Sie sind durch und durch schwul. Coming Out- Zwang. Der hat doch was mit mir gemacht. Wenn man lernt, dass man etwas zu sich sagen muss, weil die gewöhnliche Unterstellung an alle nicht funktioniert, dann lernt man auf eine ganz bescheuerte Art und Weise das Über-sich-reden-Müssen. Und wenn man damit einmal anfängt, kommt man nicht mehr raus, weil man Korrekturen einfügen muss, Konkretisierungen vornimmt. Man wird zum Statistiker – seiner selbst. Und dann ist es in jedem Fall ärgerlich, wenn die eigene Familie zum Beispiel oder das direkte Umfeld, ihre Sprechblockaden für unüberwindbar halt. Da stehen sich zwei Parteien unterschiedlicher körperlicher Erfahrung gegenüber. Die eine Seite hat das Schlucken gelernt, die andere das Ausspucken-Müssen-sofort. Und das lernt der gemeine Homosexuelle in jeder x-beliebigen kleinen Scheißstadt und deshalb sieht er auch so geschwätzig und exhibitionistisch aus.
Why people despise gays: They are gay through and through. The pressure-to-come- out: it took its toll on me. When you learn you have to soliloquize because the usual assumptions don’t work, then you learn in a stupid way how you have to talk about yourself. Once you’ve started, there’s no stopping. Because you have to add corrections, iron out the details. You become a statistician, for yourself. It’s annoying when your own family or close friends consider their inability to talk to be insurmountable. Two parties having different experience face each other: one of them has learnt to swallow, the other to spit out immediately. The bitchy homosexual in any old shitty little town learns that and that’s why he comes across as a chatterbox and exhibitionist.

Da stehst du nun
mit deinem unrettbar krummen Rücken
 vorne noch die Titten dran unbeirrt am Tuntenstrand und die Wirbelsäule sticht wie eine vom Wind gebogene Südseepalme
durch dein 36Grad
warmes Fleischkostüm
MEIN TUNTENSTRAND
Ich warm im Wasser
Am Ufer
lauter Nackte
Actionfiguren
Geil!

HEROSEXUAL
Coming Out as herosexual
Coming Out as herosexual
Dear kinship
Please release me
Hear my voice, here you are, hear me out
The day I quit being your tomboy
I was grateful you raised me as a feminist
Now be my rebel parent and preach my tranifest
Coming out as herosexual
The revolution will be injected
The revolution will be injected
Dear doctors
Don’t cry for me
For my mutating contradiction
You call me disordered
I call you an ambulance
Stop telling me what I won’t have
This world shall go down
The revolution will be injected
The power of love no force from above
The power of love no force from above
Dear lover
Be my Monkey
Me your little Boitoi Fox
Rest between my thighs
Enter my cockpit
Enter my cockpit
With stolen flowers in your mouth every day
The power of love no force from above
I ain’t gonna be out on my own no more
I ain’t gonna be out on my own no more
Dear friends
Get up and dial my number
With the budget of shoplifters
we’ll transmute into stray cats
Ride our bikes to the edges of town
Relaxing on the waterfrom next to the non-believers
Farting till the lake feels like a whirlpool everybody
I may be a rocketship
but I want to swim
Later love land on the sofa cuddling till dawn
Fall asleep watching movies with watery eyes
Independence is counter-revolutionary propaganda
I need you
I ain’t gonna be out on my own no more

PERINEUM
Volcanic kisses
Black bird witnesses
Whistling the night out of the dark
Lovers hands in the moonlight
Doors open
Pray for my perineum

Skin and dildos
With curious desires
Timelessness turns from pale to plastic
I wear a crown of holes
Pelvic blooms
Pray for my perineum
Oh, come to my assistance
Your insane hands
Moonlight cactus were I bend and pray
Dandelion lovebites
Oh oh oh
Pray for my perineum
Your leg around my neck
Like an anaconda
Deep in the cinnamon and fig
May my sins live forever
Listen to me now
I’m your perineum
I am singing out
From the triangle region
I am working on
Some pathetic rhyms
To become popular
Spoil me
Pray for me
Kiss me
Your perineum

T-SHOT AT THE TRUCK STOP
Take the next exit
I need to fill up
Through the steam of my coffee
I recognize your face at the gas pump
With a wink and a smile
We sneak off to the stall
I hand you my chemistry set
Pull down my pants
T-Shot at the truck stop
Poke me without words
I just can’t get over feeling you
Under my skin
T-Shot at the truck stop
The hormones really work
I just can’t get over feeling you
Under my skin
The substance flows into my body
I keep my hands steady and calm
Cooling my cheek against the stall wall
The syringe is half-empty you’d say it’s half-full
I keep on relaxing my muscles
I hope the leftover bubbles don’t kill you
I hope so, too
I feel cyber-connected to you
T-Shot at the truck stop
Poke me without words
I just can’t get over feeling you
Under my skin
T-Shot at the truck stop
Won’t you be my / Can I be your nurse
I just can’t get over feeling you
Under my skin
T-Shot at the truck stop

MANN EY
Ich bin ein Mann ohne Vergangenheit.
Ich habe keine Ahnung, was das bedeutet.
Ich bin der Mann im Altbau, 4. Stock.
Ich bin der, der mein Vater und mein Großvater nicht war.
In keinem Krieg war ich.
Meine Hände sind schmal.
Ich bin ein Mann, der sich selbst mal konnte.
Der, der schon vormittags in der Badewanne liegt.
Ich bin einer mit Flugangst.
Ich bin ein Mann, der seine Papiere geändert hat.
Der seiner Vorgängerin sein Leben verdankt.
Ich bin einer, der den Vögeln hinterher zog, als es längst Winter war.
Ich bin ein Mann mit Vergangenheit.
Ich habe mich selbst um Asyl gebeten.
Ich habe kein Begrüßungsgeld empfangen als ich rübermachte.
Ich bin der doppelt Pubertierte mit dem autodidaktischen Bart.
Meinen Stimmbruch hab ich mit 30 erzwungen.
Ich trage ein seltenes Wissen.
Ich bin ein Mann ohne Wiederkehr.
Ich hab mich unter Vollnarkose plattmachen lassen.
Ich habe geweint in der Stunde davor.
Ich bin ein Mann, der Luft holt, wenn andere schlafen.
Dessen Brustkorb Narben schmücken.
Ich bin der Mann mit den abgebrochenen Brücken zum Kleinstadthintergrund.
Ich bin der, für den es in seinem Beruf keine Vorsehung gibt.
Der, der sich nur schwer gegen Neugierde halten kann.
Der, mit dem Mitteilungsbedürfnis.
Ich bin ein aus seiner Haut gefahrener Mann.
Der sich den Fußball nahm, als er ihm nicht ausgehändigt war.
Ich bin ein Mann, der gerne küsst.
Ich kenne dich und kenn dich nicht.
Meine Angst vor Spritzen gehört der Vergangenheit.
Ich bin ein Mann, der die Inflation überstand.
Einer, der kein Geld der Welt annehmen kann.
Ich stehe nachts betrunken am Bügelbrett und hole nichts nach.
Ich bin der Mann, dessen Rucksack kontrolliert wird.
Der, dessen Dildosammlung im Gepäck die Sicherheitsfirmen verunsichert.
Ich bin der Mann, der auf dem Klo zu lange lächelt.
Ich bin ständig in Schwulitäten.
Ich bin der Mann mit dem Patti Smith-Shirt in der Sammelumkleide.
Ich bin der Mann zwischen Anpassung und Widerstand.
Der, der die Angst im Dunkeln nicht aus dem Körper bekommt.
Der, der jetzt als Angreifer in Frage kommt.
Ich bin der Mann, der wartet, dass die Tür ins Schloss fällt.
Ein Mann der Schwermut und der Dämmerung.
Des aufgeregten Herzschlags und des Haarausfalls.
Ich bin der Mann, der seine Beine in die Hand genommen hat.
Ein Mann, der es nur schlurfend um die Klinik schafft.
Der sich selbst besetzt hat.
Und ich bin ein Mann, der sich selbst nicht bereut.
Und, einer, der es nicht besser weiß.
Ich bin, ich weiß und weiß es nicht.

Quee(i)rA me ver
By Quilombo Allee
(The title of our manifest is based in a game of words and phonetics of the brazilian portuguese. The verb Querer (to want/wish), in the third person of the future of subjunctive that brings the meaning “Wish (Queira) to see me”)
Simultaneity, diversity, adversity and irreversibility
Simultaneity: In the field of the struggle, advances and losses.
Diversity: On ethnic issue, in class matter
Adversity: Eurocentrism, transphobia, racism,
capitalism, colonialism, classism
Irreversibility: The lack of possibility of regressing.
The exit from the wardrobe has no turning back.

We manifest to get out of the prison of the woman, which is sustained
by the patriarchal queer itself,
that many times oblige us to give up on the “feminine”
to be included in its scope.
The queer identities that come from our bodies are many times deprived
of themselves to be accepted,
which maintains the fluidity of gender identities from
those bodies excluded of a queer legitimacy.

The european queer still sees the gender neutrality
in the masculine stereotype,
maintaining the dykes, the non binary transmasculines and others,
hostages of an adequacy
that once again mutilates us, obliging them to abdicate
of their own simultaneity to
be accepted, once again the impossible
is demanded from us, for us to accompany
the transgressions of the patriarchal power.

This way, we are here to manifest the irreversibility of our existences.
Which don’t finish with death.
We keep sprouting, fertilizing the fields with epistemic and civil rebellion.
Fighting for life, with the crave to survive inherent to living.
Non white bodies, bodies that are on the basis
of the capitalist extract, have other treatments.
Our manifest wants to show the extent of what it means to be queer,
in the trinomy queer, race and class.
If the queer is a possibility of light that emerges
simultaneously from the destruction and
wreckages from the patriarchy,
it’s necessary to bring to light the misogyny that
can be reproduced within the movement.

THE FUTURE IS SHEMXLE AND NOT A FETISH
By Parisa Madani
Who states that “the future is female” or “women are the future” didn’t understand the concept of individual expression of love and life fully.
FEMALE or WOMEN implicates femininity and womanhood without the respect for trans*, inter* or gender non-conforming people. It says cis femininity and cis women win, but that’s not a win for me.
SHEMXLE gives people who do not believe in the binary gender system a room to exist. Not only trans femmes, also gender non-conforming individuals are seen here.
Important note: this is a reclaim of a word and the X cancels the expected A masculinity out of the word because trans* womxn are women and language is adapting.
SHEMXLE is a term that the porn industry appropriated to describe trans* people in porn/ sex workers.
SHEMXLES, TRANNYS, CHICKS WITH DICKS or as similarly degraded are the strongest humans on this planet and deserve to rule this world as the amazons they are. The amount of shit these people had to and still have to face is bigger than URANUS.
Especially femininities with penises, who are performing in SHEMXLE labeled 8 minute movies as the pure canvas of sexualization and fetishization.

trans* bodies are seen as EXOTIC and DIFFERENT in the cis men’s eyes.
On PornHub, one of the biggest porno websites, you can find 20.512 videos listed under SHEMXLE. On Xtube there is a category called “transexual” tran sexual.

TS TV CROSS DRESSER TRANNY CHICKS WITH DICKS SHEMXLE SISSY

Are all words and identities that were highly fetishized by the cis-normative porn industry.
Trans femininity in porn is portrayed as tanned, long haired, big breasted, skinny WOMAN with equally hollywoodesque giant dick, who

1) either makes out with a similarly viewed SHEMXLE BarbieTM, or
2) who penetrates a “heterosexual” cis dude OR
3) who acts submissive and gets dominated by one of those cis dudes

Trans women* suffer from the hate against women on a different and more disgusting level than cis women.
That’s why THE FUTURE IS SHEMXLE, bitxh.

Valentine Date with Space
By Bráulio Bandeira & Nicky Miller
I got a valentine date with the space!
And Space said to me
Make me yours
Me, me smile
Me, your sex!

So I’m sex into your eyes:
So give me
your sex!
Give me the tip
or
Give me the top
‘Cause I’m Space
Give me your sex!
Give me the tip
Or give me the top
‘Cause I’m Space

And Then it makes it vibrates in between your legs
like the black hole space
‘Cause I’m Space
I can be the tip or
I can be the top

I can be yours in between
The tip, the top,
The Space-Out!!

‘Cause I’m Space (scream)
Float! And float!

Oh sweet heart buzzing me
I feel the space in between
I feel we can travel through this black hole
Yeah,
The hole in between your legs

Oh! Oh! You got the space!
You! You got the space

The planets
The meteors,
The Solar System
You got the space! Oh!

Give me your sex!
‘Cause I’m Space into your eyes
I can be the tip I can be the top
I can be the he
The she
FLOAT! Float! Float, oh!
You Got the space!

The space out, oh!
You got the Space
‘Cause I’m Space,
I can be yours in between…

We Are the Real Cyborgs
By Political Fatties
We Are the real Cyborgs
Slow and comfortable
Terrifying and unproductive
An expanded embodiment
Of neoliberal nightmares
Look at us mismanage our body/machines
Such excess upon excess
Lardy prostheses on top of your imaginary fitness
Extended limbs of fat tissue

Look at us go
Hiding each other’s secret deep within our folds
When we explore each other
Does it make you mad?
Are we being naughty?
Look how we bounce
Against the walls of your disapproval
We go higher and higher
Flying into space
Weightless, and still fat
Space whales of alt matter
Devouring stars
Exploding into nebulas of fatness
And laughter
Do you envy our Joy
And our secrets?

We want more

We will become slower
We will become deadlier
Leaking over your self-contained self
Staining your white couches with our oil soaked fingers
We spit in the face of health and contaminate your public space with our leaky bodies

Some of us are pleasant
Some of us are runners
Some of us are disabled
Some of us can kill you with a stare

We’d rather be fat than be a goddess

We are already cyborgs

The Morning After Love
By Candice Nembhard
The morning after love is a quiet one
You look around and try to capture the silence that swims between the two of you
Finding yourself succumbing to the sirens in your head
The morning after love is an inspired one
It’s watching the dust slowly twist itself away from the window sill
Landing gently in the curls of your lover’s hair
The morning after love is searching 
Crossing the in-betweens of snoring patterns that form from the rise and fall of their chest
It is feeling the sensation of duvet sheets slip past your shoulder, welcoming the morning breeze
The morning after love is to look
and wait
The morning after love hovers
Sitting like bated breath wishing you’d break and bare your teeth with urgency to say
The morning after love isn’t always bright
Sometimes it takes the form of night’s delights and finds the frights you kept between whispers and peppered kisses
The morning after love is greatly welcomed
And oversubscribed
It is thinking of what was touched and what was forgotten 
The morning after love is biting your tongue
And wanting to taste the salt
The morning after love is forgotten ash trays and takeaway cups
The morning after love is mute
Because in the space of a moment 
You utilise the present and the past
And together you complement this thing called the future
What lies beyond
What’s next
The morning after love is a lonely one

Notes from the Underlands
By Romily Alice Walden 

1.
a queer crip future grows in the Underlands, the Wastelands and the Fallow Lands, out of sight and out of mind, Rooting, Spawning and Germinating under the soil, in that moist and fecund undergrowth where we have been forgotten. Limp, Lame and Sick bodies, Queer, Sexy, and Sexless bodies; marinating in the forgotten lands – the sisters of Anzaldúa’s Borderlands and Irigaray’s Lowlands. we wait here, Growing and Shifting, Leaking and Mutating, Fucking and Decaying in the wastelands of the sick. under your dinner parties and your high houses, your club nights and your art shows, we are breeding, building up our strength in numbers, pleaching our roots together to form Hybrid, Techno-Reinforced, Ism-Resistant Super-Creatures.

we are Working Together.
we are Knocking.
we are Hammering.
we are ready to come in.

2.
a queer future is a humble future.
a queer, crip, and sick future sees the body as it is: Weak, Vulnerable, Fallible, Ever-Changing, Ever-Moving towards sickness disease and dependency.

Let’s celebrate dependency!
Let’s hold each other in our weakness!
There is no shame in your weakness!
There is no shame in your sickness!
3.
You will never find a greater home than the underlands, the wastelands and the fallow lands.

here we will let you Be, let you Breathe, let you speak what you know of the cycles of life and the Secrets of the Sick.

there is no demand for productivity here.
there is no race to the finish line.

the Forgotten Bodies do not forget each other.

(there is no need to keep up when you know you will not be left behind)

4.
we speak in Silence, we speak in Sign, we speak in Touch, we speak in dark rooms and forgotten places. we speak in cracks of light that sneak under the spaces where you do not let us in.

OPEN YOUR DOORS! KNOCK DOWN YOUR DIVIDING WALLS! BULLDOZE YOUR STAIRS AND YOUR INACCESSIBLE SPACES!

you have a lot to learn.

it is not enough to build a ramp, you must also take a ramp down into the Undergrowth with us.

5.
and who is it who says that the abled body is the better body?

the same people who say that the hetero body is the better body!
the same people who say that the white body is the better body!
the same people who say that the cis body is the better body!

a queer future does not tolerate these lies!
a queer future is an accessible future!
a queer future demands that we are all included!

6.
as we begin to acknowledge the fallibility of our Ecosystem we also acknowledge the vulnerability of our species.

(All of the things that we have taken.
All of the things that we have taken.
All of the things that we have taken.)

all of the arrogance of the abled and the anthropocene.

these are the Concerns of the Now.
we are the Cautionary Tales of the Future.

As the planet gets Sicker we will all become Sicker.
As the future comes for us we will be stripped of our speciesist superiority complexes.

we are not discreet and unique entities.
we are not all powerful and dominating bodies.
we are not the keepers of all of the prizes.

7.
the sick are used to living off scraps. we turn scraps into Scaffolds. we manifest community from brightly lit white rooms with only Machines for company. we build connection out of discrimination and disinterest. we move laterally across your hierarchies. we lean, we support, we inch forward and sideways and nowhere Together. we collect those who move slowly at the back.

we are soft and osmoting, pooling our Resources, our Bodies and our Abilities, revelling in our queerness and our sickness.

Hacking/Self-Medicating/Injecting/Tending/Healing/Celebrating/Commiserating/Mourning

Building the futures that we know that we deserve.

8.
we must all be Included!

make your spaces Accessible.
make your Minds and your Bodies and your Projects Accessible.

Employ us!
PAY US!
LISTEN TO US!

technology offers you so many tools with which to open up your work and your lives to the armies of the sick*, to those of us fighting with our keyboards, our emails and our internet connections.

So ask yourself:

Why does my activism exclude the disabled?

Why do I do the bare minimum or nothing at alL?

9.
we are sick.
we are queer.
we are here.
we are a part of your community.

we are sick.
we are queer.
we are here.
we are a part of your world.

10.
your body is Decaying Too. your body is getting older as you sit and process this. if you are lucky one day you will be sick too, one day someone you love will need you to Care and Tend to their Ailing Body. and you will not know how. because you have not Listened. because you think that the weak body is Unworthy, Less Than, Unimportant. because you thought we had Nothing To Offer and Nothing to Share, or maybe You Didn’t Think of us at all.

this is a call to action!
you are the ones who can do the work!
we are the ones who deserve more from you!

11.
the exclusion that we face is exacerbated across lines of race, class, gender, ability and the construction of cultural norms.

12.
we must prioritise the needs of our most vulnerable community members

we must learn to listen!
we must learn to act!

it is not enough to tick us off of your Diversity Checklist.
it is not enough for one of us to be the chosen one.
it is not enough for one of us to have to represent all of us.

we must all be included!

these futures that we build are not queer futures if they are not accessible futures.

a queer future is only progressive if it is inclusive.

13.
we ride with our care-assistants, with our mobility devices, with our oxygen tanks, with our invisible sickness, our undiagnosed, unresearched, unappreciated Bodies. we are Resting and Relapsing. we are Mourning and Commiserating. we are Fighting Back and Pushing Through. we are Rising Above. we are Mutating and Enhancing, built on the wisdom of plants and the thresholds of modern technology. we are the Barometers of the Health of our Climates, the purity of our water, the Pollution of our Cities and the devastation of our ecosystem. we are precious and valuable bodies! we are glorious in our sickness and our difference!

Come with us!
Let us come with you!

Editor: LA Warman
Readers: Clay AD, Frances Breden, Laura G. Jones, Ida Isatou Svenungsson

Notes:
This manifesto has its foundations in the work of many other sick, disabled and
care-giving artists, activists and theorists whose work I am eternally thankful for: Clay AD, Ruby Allegra, Imani Barbarin, *Ezra Benus, Eli Clare, Leah Clements, Taraneh Fazeli, Feminist Health Care Research Group, Shannon Finnegan, Sharona Franklin, Leora Fridman, Johanna Hedva, Sophie Hoyle, Laura G. Jones, Alison Kafer, Carolyn Lazard, Simi Linton, Mia Mingus, Alyson Patsavas, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, Susan Wendell and Alice Wong. These groups and individuals are not affiliated with this work but their practices have been an inspiration and source of strength for me. I am indebted to Sickness Affinity Group whose collective friendship, power and support give me hope. I am grateful to be a part of an interconnected and ever-growing global network of sick and disabled artists.

Conventions:
we is capitalised and smaller <– this is because we are together and also POWERFUL.
Important words are Capitalised, bold or ALL CAPS <– because they are IMPORTANT and must be UNDERSTOOD.
unimportant words are not capitalised Even if they start at the beginning of the line <– because we do not accept conventions built on the hetero-patriarchal academic system and because we are free to begin SMALL and get BIGGER, or start BIG and get SMALLER (our growth is not policed).
there is no I <– because this manifesto Centers COMMUNITY, INTERDEPENDENCE and
foregrounding multiple, vulnerable WEs.
direct Instructions are stricken out <– in anticipation of their timely completion.

Dark Fantasy
By Evar Green (Cointreau on Ice) 
Im Traum laufe ich über einen Friedhof. Es ist sehr dunkel. Ich glaube da sind zumindest die Umrisse eines Friedhofs. Oder einer Kathedrale. Da stehen Monumente. Letzte Denkmäler vergangener Zeiten. Da stehen die Statuen von Adlern und Präsidenten, Rossen und Königen und sie schreien laut:

TOXIC MASCULINITY

WHITE SUPREMACY

und es schweigen die Artefakte eines schlagkräftigen Militärapparats im Dunkeln,
still sind die Atom-Bomben, man hört es nicht, das globale Überwachungssystem,
und leise findet sie statt, die Besiedlung des Weltraums durch die Eliten.
Man kann Beherrschung nicht sehen, unsichtbar ist das politische Management der Lebenden, die bio-politsche Kontrolle sexueller Subjektivitäten, weil die Macht nicht länger außerhalb von uns existiert, repräsentiert durch Individuen oder Institutionen, weil die Macht in uns selbst vorgedrungen ist, innerhalb unsere Körper und Geister, weil sie uns infiltriert hat durch digitale Bilder und chemische Substanzen, dynamische Kräfte eines techno Kapitalismus mit der omni-potenten Kraft uns durch Biotechnologien und globale Medien zu kontrollieren. Die Ejakulation von Pornos, Drogen und Viren, um unsere sexuellen Identitäten zu normalisieren. Wir haben das sexuelle Repressionssystem verinnerlicht, verkörpert, wir sind das System und niemand hat bemerkt, dass wir schon lange keine Menschen mehr sind.

Auf einem Grabstein steht:
MEN MUST BE DESTROYED
Ich fühle
das Patriarchat wird enden
in einem Rausche der Gewalt
dann wird Dürre herrschen auf dem Olymp
insignificant

UND DIE SZENERIE WECHSELT UND WIR SIND IM KRIEG UND DER MENSCH RICHTET SEINE WAFFEN GEGEN SICH SELBST
WEIL DIE WELT VERSTANDEN HAT DASS DIE MENSCHHEIT EINE PLAGE IST EINE AGGRESSIVE MISSGEBURT DER EVOLUTION DIE WIE EIN VIRUS ALLES VERNICHTET WAS DAS LEBEN IM LAUFE DER ZEIT AUFGEBAUT HAT UND WEIL DIE MENSCHEN DAS NUN AUCH VERSTANDEN HABEN RICHTEN SIE DIE WAFFEN GEGEN SICH UND ROTTEN DEN VIRUS AUS UND BEGEHEN KOLLEKTIV SELBSTMORD ODER RICHTEN DIE GEWEHRE GEGEN DIE ÜBELTÄTER DER MISERE UND TÖTEN DIE GANZEN WEIßEN* FASCHO MÄNNER* DENN DIE BRAUCHEN WIR HIER NICHT MEHR DIE SIND ZU AGGRESSIV

Last Night I had a dream. I was walking through a graveyard. In my dream it was very dark so i actually don´t know if it was a graveyard. Maybe it was a cathedral. I know that there were monuments. Last memorials of past times. There were the statues of presidents and kings, men in uniform and naked boys, idealized bodies, they were sitting on horses or were standing there with weapons and the statues were screaming loud:

TOXIC MASCULINITY

WHITE SUPREMACY

and there quiet in dark, I felt the global system of repression, the bombs were silent, the surveillance invisible as the discrimination. Not to be seen the governing of sexual subjectivities, the political management of the living, because the power was no longer outside of us represented through people or institutions, but inside of us, inside our bodies and minds, infiltrating us via digital images and chemical substances, dynamic forces of techno capitalism, the omni-potent control of ourself by biotechnologies and global media. The ejaculation of viruses, plastic, porn and drugs to normalize our sexual identities, because we have already incorporated the sexual empire that is ruling everyone of us, we are the system, and no one has realized that we have already overcome what it means to be human.

In my dream I saw a tombstone on which was written:

MEN MUST BE DESTROYED

I feel
patriarchy will end
in an orgy of violence
and you will all feel insignificant

and the dream´s scenery was changing and now we are at war, and we point the weapons against ourself because the world has understood that humanity is a virus on this planet,
a monstrosity of evolution, a plague that’s destroying everything what organic life has developed in a billion of years and because the humans now understand that the total destruction of the earth is happening they wipe themselves out by committing collective suicide to exterminate the virus that is ourself or we rather decide to point the weapons to the cause of this situation and kill all white fascist men because they are to aggressive and we no longer need them on this planet.