THE BLACK SHEEP SPEAKS (BACK) IN BROWN
(Explaining my work for the Wall-Project at The Russett Cafe in Hackney Downs:)
Brown is the new black!
This work is on my very early emotions on so-to-say my “second migration” to London.
The words have been written with brown vinyl, as an indicator of my identity of being of migrant background in Denmark. My spoken words are brownish. I talk back. I have a voice!
The work is written with a handwriting font, showing the intimacy level of my diaristic writings as in any letter. This letter is supposed to addres Danes in Denmark mostly but also the ones I meet here. This is the diary I want my parents ( aka the Danish state) to find and read, therefore putting it up for display in a far away parking lot in a different country, in a different city makes a good hide-out. Still Hackney is the new hang-out for Danes and maybe some of them will see this and from the wording understand that I am Danish too and then they might open their eyes and send it to my parents (aka the Danish State) and it can all make a big difference to life in Denmark and I might one day move back…
But the reality is different; I think some Danes and even Swedes did come about and read my/these honest sentences (not so likely understanding)/ seeing my discrete appeal (read:scream), but they got provoked thinking oh my God we thought we were exempt from all these migrant cry outs and here we are all the way in London and we meet it. They should be happy we took them into our country in the 70ies. What’s this girl even doing here?! Maybe all the dialogues are only within me you might think… But they are not I have tried to talk to every Dane I met the fir 3 years into my lifetime in London, but every time they were shocked that this black-haired girl could in fact speak Danish!? What a denial I say, while simultaneously feeling sad that they do not accept me still!
I am sharing the work with the whole community of other migrants and expats in Hackney.
To avoid trouble altogether I do no longer speak Danish when I hear people speaking Danish on the street in my own neighbourhood, as I get too frustrated when they refuse to talk back to me or when they get shocked. Lets never try to educate you Dane lets always try to imagine that people of migrant descendants do not exist. Eventhough I am 41 years old and I was born in Denmark!! Lets just leave you to your own little narrative where you still believe that you are not racist!
THIS IS WHAT IT SAYS ON MY WALL-PIECE:
Travelling the world with immigrant eyes!
Hoping to find a proper place to live. Not because of economic
necessity, but because of existential needs!!
I don’t belong anywhere. Nationality doesn’t give me any peace!
I’m haunted. Borders don’t make me stop nor does cultures!
I belong anywhere and everywhere! I travel the world for inner
peace! I leave one place to miss it right away. The melancholy never
leaves me. We travel together. I am never alone.
I came from another place, though my narrative is not from
there…I know stories that I’ve never lived out myself.
Still I believe that they are my own. These stories are me and at the
same time they are not me. I miss those times as if they were from
I came here alone. I never travelled, but my father’s sperm did. I was
(Then) I chose to create my own stories in new countries. I came here
alone. No one asked me. I didn’t tell. I just left.
Please don’t ask me where I’m from. It will take
me some time to answer you. Don’t say a word
about identity or culture either…My destiny tires
me…I need more time to figure things out.
I come from Denmark, but my hair is Turkish.