Week Two Reflection 

Who is telling the story? 

That is the question that acted as a catalyst for me in this second week of curriculum. When entering a program based on colonialism, art, and activism, it is almost imperative to discuss perspective, identity, and purpose. What better way to encapsulate those subfactors than to discuss the cognitively disposed narratives that are a byproduct of “collective amnesia” (Helle Stenum). Essentially, what hidden narratives uphold history, and what censored voices divide contemporary society? 

From visiting a community center that treats the vulnerable population of Denmark, to watching a documentary on how the Danes uphold a censorship on their role in the slave trade, to even viewing art from around the world, it is undeniable that every element of our existence relies on these narratives that are loud and present as well as on stories that are often drowned out by power. It struck me in “Stedet at være”, the community home, that the way these social workers view the whole person and treat them as such, is a human decency that has been lost in the states. This realization metastasized this moment of enlightenment that there is immense value in the voices of the exposed populations of the world if we as a global community are willing to hear it. If we as a global community are willing to hear these voices of the past, present, and future. 

When watching Helle Strenum’s documentary “We Carry it Within Us”, I was moved by the words of Chenoa Lee in which she compares discussions of colonial pasts to the awkward sensation of running into someone, not recognizing them, only to then realize you should ; “I should know you, I should remember you”, she says, and she is right. Why is it we neglect our pasts for the sake of the present, when the atrocities from history still send resonations and effects on the people of today? How is it we as a society can look at those directly impacted by systemic racism and colonial consequences and choose to ignore their voices? It was in this documentary that I realized reparations for the past are not embodied by the need for an action, but are rather a desperate scream from the ignored people of today to simply acknowledge that it happened and that the effects are still alive and well in modern society. 

To follow this heavy conversation of “collective memory loss”, I found it incredibly fitting that we entered a Design museum that forced me to confront my own narrative. Though I was initially indifferent about this stop, I was soon slapped by an immeasurable amount of self awareness. I often deal with trauma and grief by pushing forward. This museum told me it was time to listen to the voices of my own past. I called my mom once I left the museum to talk about my Mormor and to talk about the fires, and she reminded me that even though it exists behind us, memories live on forever. We cannot push them down and away without first acknowledging them. I believe that here I finally extended that concept to our existence as a human race. Though things may be pinpointed in the past, they still live on forever until we accept that they happened, and by listening to the voices yelling at you (in your head or in communities you may not notice) you will be able to finally move forward. 

On the topic of voices, I had the pleasure of going to see Jesse Kleeman’s exhibition at the SMK. Having met her at the UW Nordic Symposium, I was inspired by her discussions of change to the environment, her identity, and to her native community and felt the need to see her exhibition as the first Greenlandic woman to perform in the SMK. Her piece Kamissunga struck me the hardest; A poem and performance art piece on identity in relation to how she sees herself and the narrative Danish society forced onto her. Yet again, this discussion of suppressed voices has infiltrated this week's curriculum, and watching Jesse contort behind a camera and hearing her chant about who she is, reminded me, as always, that her voice matters in this story of the universe. Her voice as well as everyone’s voice is priceless when piecing together our complex  existence. 

To conclude my reflection I feel obligated to talk about Nella Larsen. Not only from the perspective of Quicksand being a vessel for her to narrate her own struggle with identity in a world that views women (especially mixed-race) as a commodity, but from the realization that Nella’s work was often discredited. When reading Quicksand I felt represented by Helga’s pursuit of identity through sexuality, destination, religion, and meaning. Keeping this in mind, I found it absolutely criminal not only to women but to women of color to have this book discarded in history. Larsen’s voice represents many demographics and holds insane amounts of historical value; and yet again we see the world of loud critics shutting down the opportunity for these screams of acknowledgment to be heard. 

Larsen’s voice, Chenoa’s voice, Jesse’s voice; all are narratives that are often diluted, but they are all perspectives that are fundamental to understanding why we are here and how we as a global composition have gotten to this point.