White African

I have been asked to do a joint performance together with an Ugandan dance group. They have given me a topic. This text and those who follow are different attempts to tackle the challenge. The performance wil be Thursday 23rd of March in Fusion Autospa in Munyonyo.  I am sitting in a bar in Copenhagen. with my colleagues from Uganda. We are here for a conference. There is a group of guys next to us. They smile. We exchange phrases. We are comfortable in each others company, becasuse we resemble in color. One of them moves closer to me and ask me almost whispering as if he is telling me a secret: "How can I help you?" Help me? I am confused. He wants to help me! Do I look like I need help? I am almost about to ask him for a drink to respoind to his offer and be polite, but he does not look like someone buying driinks to a strangers. "Yes, how can I help you to stay here?" But I am not going to staying here. I am going back to Uganda tomorrow. He stares at me. &q

I have been asked to do a joint performance together with an Ugandan dance group. They have given me a topic. This text and those who follow are different attempts to tackle the challenge. The performance wil be Thursday 23rd of March in Fusion Autospa in Munyonyo.  I am on my way . The sun will shine. My shoulders are still warm. They say the nights will be cold, but I have my blanket to cover me when I am sleeping. I am tired and my dream is still waiting thousand of kilimoters, a distance I cannot comprehend. I feel exhaustion from travelling. I want to sleep, but I need to move on...

1/10 Jeg har altid kravlet langs væggene. Her fandt jeg lufthuller der gav mig anledning til at trække vejret frit. Det er ikke til at vide hvorfor det ikke var nok at gemme mig i et mørkt hjørne. Her kunne jeg have levet et afdæmpet og behageligt liv. [her i oktober forsøger jeg at samle tankerne om det vigtigste af alt, at skrive den eneste bog jeg behøver at skrive, derefter vil der ikke være mere at gøre, jeg kan gå tilbage i mit skjul og elske den eneste kvinde i verden, indtil da må jeg lide og kun ordenes konstante strøm vil lindre min smerte] 2/10 Det var ikke med vilje. Jeg havde ikke haft nogen plan. En aften meget sent så jeg op på en helt klar stjernehimmel. Da gik det op mig at jeg ingenting forstod. Jeg anede endnu ikke hvilke brutale konsekvenser det senere ville få. [i oktober vil jeg samle tankerne om min egen opløsning, min foretrukne aktivitet, at rejse på tværs af verden har vist sig at få utilsigtede konsekvenser, jeg er gået i stykker forsvundet - ja, bl

Am i allowed to be myself? I seem to always be objectified as something different and some-one else, than I myself feel that I am, so i cannot be myself. I cannot claim to be invisible, because I have my colour against me. I am white and per definition a white man is always visible. I cannot say that I do not have any space in society, because I have my class against me. I am middle class in a Scandinavian welfare state, where precisely this social entity has it all. Finally I cannot complain, because I have my gender against me - and if I complain I am accused. This is a very odd kind of triple-oppression, indeed.