*275 Masks and Freedom

‘Ah, that bloody thing again, you can’t breathe properly underneath it!’ Yeah, right, sometimes the air gets humid and heavy under the mask, especially when you’re physically exerting yourself. And you don’t recognize people anymore – the lower part of your face is more important than you think. Everything sounds muffled when wearing a mask. … Continue Reading

*274 Racism #2

I posted a black square. I’m against racism. I added the hashtag ‘blackouttuesday’ to the square and uploaded it to my timeline. But I felt slightly uneasy. I felt pathetic. What do I know about racism, what do I know how it feels to be black? How can I dare to use a hashtags like … Continue Reading

*273 The Future is New

The common era has changed. There was a time when you could meet for pizza, get drunk in public, visit friends over the weekend, eat from the same plate and elbow your way trough a crowd. And you could breathe. Just like that. Without getting that humid feeling around your mouth. That was the time … Continue Reading

*272 Racism

Olivia and her sister Eleni are almost 15 and 17. They go to the same school. In this school, at least half of the children have a migration background of any kind. The class list reads very international. They are friends with children whose parents come from India, South Korea, China, Poland or Bavaria. Neither … Continue Reading

*271 Changes

Things are changing. Cuddly kids turn into recalcitrant teenagers, teenagers turn into political activists, politicians turn into parodies of themselves. Innocence turns into bewilderment. Trust into blame. Who’s to blame? It doesn’t really matter. Blame is passive, it’s stuck in the past and the only thing it creates is defense, so it’s a waste of … Continue Reading

*270 Feminist

What does a feminist look like? No bra, hairy armpits, banner over her head, on her way to the next march for women’s rights. Could be. Why not. You noticed, I am embracing a stereotype, very unsubtly. Haha. But actually it’s not funny at all. First of all, what’s wrong with hairy armpits? Who told … Continue Reading

*269 Let’s be Gender Benders

It starts when we are born: ‘Its a boy/girl!’ And before we blink there is a pink or blue ribbon on a tiny wrist. Based on our primary sexual characteristics we get a label that dictates what colours to wear and how to behave for the rest of our lives. Female babies are addressed in … Continue Reading

*268 Friendship

What indicates the beginning of a great friendship? Is it pure coincidence? A byproduct of favourable circumstances? You happen to see a person more or less regularly for one reason or another, you get to know each other, start to appreciate each other’s company, to really like each other. That happens every once in a … Continue Reading

*267 Jovana

I always wonder if there ever comes a time when I decide: ‘OK, now that’s the style I will stick to for the rest of my life’. What will that style be and how will I pick it? What kind of criteria does this style have to satisfy? When I was a kid I remember … Continue Reading

*266 Joerg

A man in a jumpsuit is either a plumber, a house painter or a forensic analyst. Or he’s about to jump off a plane with (hopefully) a parachute on his back. When you wear a jumpsuit you want to make sure that nothing from the outside gets in (paint, sullage) or vice versa (think of … Continue Reading

*265 Dodo or What’s wrong with black latex?

Let’s talk about black Latex. Or better. Write down the first thing that crosses your mind when I say ‘Latex’. OK. I think, I don’t want to know. What I see when I think about this shiniest of all fashion materials is the challenge. The challenge of not meeting the expectations and of not making … Continue Reading

*264 Julia on World Women’s Day

‘World Women’s Day – does that mean we have one day of the year for us and the rest is for men?’ that’s what Jovana asked me today. Hm, good question, kind of the concept of mother’s day, one day of sleeping in and getting breakfast in bed as opposed to 364 days of cleaning … Continue Reading