2018 has been a year full of political turmoil on a global level. Walls have been erected along borders between countries, right-wing populism polluted the public discourse widely, people with different skin colour, ethnic background, and religion than any given majority have been demonized, women have been repeatedly mansplained where their place within society is, and the queer community had to face aggression and violence worldwide. And while many positive changes have occured (think about the nascent of the Time’s Up movement or the continuous recognition of LGBTQI* rights in more and more societies), with current trends of hateful and divisional politics gaining larger and larger support globally it sometimes proves to be difficult to stay hopeful. Looking at the programme of the 69th Berlinale, and within that, the 33rd TEDDY, I think we have a reason to stay on the positive side.
For me, cinema and films always represented hope. As a teenager coming to terms with my sexuality in a vastly homophobic country I found refuge in the film theaters of Budapest. Immersing myself in the films of François Ozon, Pedro Almodóvar, Gregg Araki, Lee Daniels, Bruce LaBruce, Maryam Keshavarz and Dee Rees, or the classics of Chantal Akerman, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Derek Jarman and Pier Paolo Pasolini, I felt like it is fine what I feel and I might just find my place one day or another in this world. Later on, as queer cinema became the subject of my academic inquiries, I truly came to understand the power that lies within these moving images and their potential to bring about actual change.
Queer film festivals, these often utopian events, have significant power in particular. They have the means to represent, embrace, celebrate, and to provide visibility and give voice to individuals and communities associated with the LGBTQI* family. They have the power to foster dialogue with the wider, hegemonic society and to build bridges between different communities through their often international profile. By their very existence they complicate dominant discourses within society and they also emerge as spaces that enable resistance and a (re)negotiation of power in general. Throughout the years queer film festivals became sites for cultural debate not only about LGBTQI* rights and experiences but, more panoramically, about general human rights, nationalist politics, and global and cultural integrity. They shape the cinematic landscape greatly, and they mobilize audiences in ever growing numbers. It is safe to argue: queer film festivals are bastions of social power and hope.
Today a global network of queer film festivals exists which has a long and rich history. Rooted in the social movements concentrating on identity and representational politics and with a prominent grassroots background, queer film festivals, historically speaking, are acts of community activism and social resistance in the face of a repressive and intolerant hegemony. These festivals to this day carry this socially engaged heritage and aim to push the queer agenda further. While many of the aims of queer film festivals are shared, they are also dependent on their respective contexts. Although having the tendency of lamenting the future, queer film festivals are always very much in conversation with the here and now. This urgency fuels the drive of queer film festivals to connect with each other. Rather than focusing on separate issues and realms of queer(ed) existence, an intersectional approach to organisation and expression seem to dominate the queer film festival landscape in recent years which allows for the distribution of knowledge, experience, and expertise between the different communities and creates a space for acknowledging dissimilarities and imbalances while staying united. The intersectionality characterizing many of the queer film festivals is remarkable for its capacity to shed light on LGBTQI* politics through a solidarity across different identities.
This is of crucial importance to queer film festivals that face continuous oppression and both legal and physical violence. Their existence is precarious just as the hope for the communities they would cater for. The past few years we witnessed many violent attacks on queer film festivals across the globe: the Side by Side Festival in St.Petersburg is repeatedly being threatened by Russian authorities and anti-LGBTQI* groups; the 2010 edition of Q! Festival in Jakarta has been attacked by anti-gay protestors; in 2014 during a gay festival screening Kiev’s oldest cinema was firebombed; the 2008 edition of Merlinka International Queer Festival had to be cancelled due to large numbers of threats from anti-gay protestors; and the opening of the Queer Sarajevo Film Festival of the same year reached a bloody end. In Covered, John Greyson’s poignant film about the incident, one interviewee says desperately: “Festivals are turning into massacres!” And indeed, too many queer film festivals are facing similarly severe issues. Thus, importantly, attention is needed from this global network of queer film festivals formed over the past decades. Events, such as the Queer Academy Summit 2019 are great opportunities to strengthen already existing ties, to build new ones, and to work together by sharing. Strategies to safeguard the crucial cultural work of queer film festivals can be shared, re-evaluated, and re-configured. Surely, a strong network and a dedication to collaboration can secure the existence of a festival.
The geographically and culturally uneven distribution of festivals presents a further problematic of inclusivity, visibility, and diversity. The model of networking and collaboration could provide some solutions for this issue perhaps, and in this the Queer Academy Summit 2019 can play a huge role. With the involvement of audiences, the summit proposes an outstanding opportunity to ensure that no one stands alone. Every contribution matters and all steps taken shape a brighter and more inclusive future for LGBTQI* communities globally. After all, the greatest power queer film festivals bear is that they do not simply reflect on the world through their specifically queer lenses, but that they vigorously and effectively shape the world through their queer activism.
In our highlight there are three precarious queer film festivals from across the globe with a passion and dedication that must be celebrated:
Out Film Festival Nairobi (Kenya)
This festival is organised since 2011 with the support of local queer organisations and Goethe-Institut Nairobi. Out Film Festival does a remarkable job in making Kenya’s queer community visible for the hegemonic society. The festival is not a mere celebration of queer cinema, but also an important instrument in the fight for legal recognition, protection, and general acceptance of the LGBTQI* community in the country.
In Kenya same-sex sexual activity (labeled as “against the order of nature”) is illegal and could lead to imprisonment up to 14 years according to section 162 of the penal code, while intercourse between men (labeled as “gross indecency”) could lead to an additional 5 years of imprisonment according to section 165. Homosexuality is considered as taboo by the majority of society and is deeply condemned. The LGBTQI* community commonly faces aggression and violence.
At the same time, Kenya has a strong queer cinematic output that certainly helps to keep LGBTQI* voices to surface under the oppression of the hegemony. Stories of Our Lives, a film made by Nairobi based arts collective The Nest Collective is an anthology film on LGBTQI* lives in Kenya. The Kenya Film Classification Board banned the film in Kenya arguing that it “promotes homosexuality, which is contrary to national norms and values”. Internationally the film garnered very positive reviews, won the Jury Prize of the TEDDY in 2015, and is widely celebrated ever since. Similarly, in 2018 the feature film Rafiki, a tender love story between two women, was also banned by the same board claiming: “The Board notes with great concern that Rafiki […] contains homosexual scenes that run counter to the law, the culture, and the moral values of the Kenyan people”. Later this ban has been lifted due to the positive reception of the film abroad and in order to make it eligible for the 91st Academy Awards. The film was screened for 7 consecutive days in Kenya, many screenings being fully sold out. In the end, Rafiki has not been selected as Kenya’s foreign language Oscar contestant.
As these examples signal as well, queer cinema is lively in Kenya but it struggles immensely to find its way to local audiences.Out Film Festival Nairobi plays a crucial role in changing this. The festival has been successfully organised for 7 consecutive years now and screened many queer movies from Kenya and from abroad. Screenings are accompanied by panel discussions and talks, and the programme often includes free HIV testing and counselling as well. The festival is a key player in raising awareness and prompting for social change on the African continent. Out Film Festival Nairobi is a true celebration of love and diversity.
In Pakistan, due to colonial laws, same sex sexual acts can be punished by imprisonment. However, this is rarely enforced. Social stigma on LGBTQI* culture and expressions is strong, mainly stemming from religious concerns. In a social landscape like this the great success and the educational value of Aks International Minorities Festival is astonishing. The festival is also remarkable for its great ties with other international queer film festivals in the world.
The word Aks means mirror in the Urdu language and as the organisers claim, their goal is “…to hold up a metaphorical mirror to trans and queer minorities with the aim of improving their visibility”. Established in 2014 in Pakistan, the festival built strong ties with other organisations, and now they also hold an annual festival in Copenhagen, but they also presented the exhibition titled “Thirdness – Gender and Sexuality in Pakistan in the Schwules* Museum as a joint collaboration of Aks, the museum, and Transformation – trans* film festival, and they also travelled to Vienna with their programme. Their collaborative efforts and them being part of an international network of queer film festivals is key in their success.
The festival has a special focus on the indigenous Khwaja Sira (trans*) community and are determined to improve the representation of queer and trans* people of colour. Besides the screenings, the festival also consists of discussions and debates, educational workshops, and art exhibitions.The festival’s operation tries to remain on grassroots level and encourages the contribution of local community members and other non-profit organisations. Importantly, the festival is organised in several cities of Pakistan, therefore making an attempt for decentralisation and making a wider national outreach possible.
The festival is a great example of how networking and collaboration can lead to fruitful transnational results and also shows queer film festivals’ dedication to an intersectional approach.
There is a troubled past behind this festival, which managed to stay alive and foster a more inclusive cinematic environment within China for more than a decade now. Beijing Queer Film Festival is the only queer film festival in mainland China and it faces continuous harassment from Chinese authorities.
The first festival was organised by university students in 2001 under the name China Homosexual Film Festival. Due to social and political conditions of China, it was impossible for the film festival to be organised every year, and in the beginning it took place sporadically, under various names. The current name, Beijing Queer Film Festival has been adopted in 2009.
In the beginning, the festival only screened films from mainland China, but today it is a great forum of Chinese language films (including productions from Taiwan and Hong Kong as well) and international titles as well. According to their official website, the festival invested a lot of energy into networking, and built strong ties with many foreign queer film festivals successfully.
This must have been an important tool of survival for the festival that faced many challenges and was often forced to come up with some guerilla methods in order to make the festival happen. After being repeatedly shut down by Chinese authorities, in 2014 the organisers decided against social media campaigns and the use of any public cinema in China, instead, shortly before the beginning of the festival, they sent an e-mail to possible attendees to go to the central train station of Beijing, buy a ticket for a certain train, and go to a certain carriage on it. They also asked for visitors to bring their laptops with them. At the end, the films were provided on pendrives and the audience watched the films on their laptops in the fully cramped wagons. Using shared laptops and USB sticks in unusual spaces does not only reflect on the multifacetedness of cinema and the creativity of the organisers, but also on the festival’s outstanding dedication and passion. The rhapsodic past of the festival seemed to fuel the drive of organisers for ensuring that the festival will happen again.
As such, the Beijing Queer Film Festival is an astute example of what should be at the core of each and every queer film festival: love, dedication, passion, and commitment.