Excursions in northern Germany

- In Coppenbrügge, an elderly person introduced themselves to me, eager to be seen with their full international credentials: they had lived on the Costa Brava in Spain for twenty years, and picked up not only Spanish but English on the way. Their time there came to an end with the death of their husband, after which returning to the small German town of their origin seemed like the logical conclusion. I remarked that their Spanish experience was fantastic, yet the departure of their spouse was sad. “That’s life,” they said philosophically. 

- In the Museum of the city of Hamelin, I gave a well-practiced speech about having a mental health disability in Australia, and considered a pensioner who is worthy of concessions in that country. I then showed the person of substantial build but well-styled hair my Pensioner Concession card. They answered in a booming voice that I must pay the stated price, like everyone else. I saw that this was somehow important to him, as a matter of principle, so I said “No problem,” and forked over the 6 euro. I later learned that the moral of the famous legend, The Rat-catcher of Hamelin, was that you should always reward a deed well done. And the museum was indeed well done, with free coffee and state-of-the-art displays, so I consider it money well-spent.

Out and About in Hannover

This weekend marked Christopher Street Day in Hannover - a time for the queer community to come together, march around the centre of town to draw attention to their fight for their Human Rights, listen to musical performances and speeches from prominent community members, and, of course, socialise in the open while looking fabulous. 

There was a member of a Christian group providing free coffee for everyone, the opportunity to win prizes, lots of free stickers and pins courtesy of various organisations (ranging from the Social Democratic Party to the Leibniz University Queer Group to a Women’s Group [providing safe spaces for women fleeing domestic violence]). I talked to people providing support for gender diversity, as well as a group specifically for non-binary people. I was able to note that Hannover’s biggest local newspaper had a presence, but the stall was free of representatives at the time of my being there. 

I had several interesting conversations, one of which was with a person who worked for ‘Take Care’, an organisation which helps people in the aftermath of discrimination (physical or verbal). They said that they had travelled to South Korea for work, and when I asked how they found it, they felt that even though the country had worked so hard to rise economically and distinguish itself on the world stage, they had forgotten why they did it - they had neglected the finer points of what makes humans happy. (They were travelling to South Africa and Sweden next, a perk of the job.)

Sitting down to wait for the performers on the stage, I introduced myself to a cis gay man who lived in the wider region of Hannover. He had a rainbow flag on his cheek, and when I told him I was from Australia but would prefer to live in Germany, he replied that Australia would be his preference although he was yet to go there. A Greens voter, he expressed unhappiness at the popularity of Alternativ für Deutschland, and said that if the latter come to power he would be leaving Germany. 

I was invited to join the game of Quadball, modelled on Quiddich (or the game played in Harry Potter), and open to all genders and sexualities. A young cis man introduced the concept and let his cis woman colleague continue to explain how it worked - you could learn the rules through training sessions which were friendly and relaxed, and if you ran out if stamina, that was okay. The social aspect of the game was a big draw, and I found myself investigating what time the training sessions were…

And my visit wouldn’t have been complete without chatting up the cis women at the FrauenHaus (Women’s House) stand. They stood for an antiracist, antifascist feminism, providing crucial (yet independently funded) domestic violence shelter services. They told me about a feminist bookshop in the suburb of Linden, and how gathering the money themselves gave them a certain amount of freedom. It was nice to be amongst like-minded feminists. 

I should not forget that I chatted to a trade union group, the Queer Group of Leibniz University (who gave away a sophisticated rainbow-coloured pen after asking me if I knew the birthplace of Sappho), and some friendly queer women of colour who sold me a green hat with a rainbow heart on it. 

I felt like the city’s English-speaking population gave me some insight into what makes them tick, and I feel grateful for their hospitality.

Re: Knowing Your Worth

A week or so before I left Australia for the year, I encountered a person who seemed interested in being my friend. We met through a mutual friend, three former selective school members hanging out, well-travelled and keen to engage with the world on an intellectual level. 

But the red flags were there from the beginning. Upon sighting me, this person opened with: “Are you Polish?” If they had asked me, “Where are you from?” I may have been able to say, “Australia, like you,” but I felt pressured to account for myself, as it were - all the while feeling boxed in.

A conversation was formed nevertheless, between the three of us, with me doing most of the listening. Eventually I piped up about my experiences at universities, including the study of anthropology. I expressed contrition about the white, male bias of cultural anthropology, but felt affronted when the new person turned around and expressed thanks for the white anthropologists who studied Indigenous languages and recorded them in writing. (Indigenous Australians kept their knowledge and wisdom alive orally.) She claimed they were able to prevent them from dying out. I thought this was hypocritical, because the cause of those languages dying out was the white settlers in the first place - Indigenous people were killed en masse through both direct and indirect manifestations of colonisation. 

Given this unfortunate development, perhaps it was not surprising that when I floated the idea that where white people used violence in response to the people of colour they encountered on their conquests, they could have found different, more harmonious ways to relate, it was dismissed as ‘unrealistic’.

Somehow I became Facebook friends with this person by the end of the night, unable to decline politely, and perhaps hoping that things would get better from here. 

But when, by manner of continuing the conversation, I described having eclectic interests which spanned from ‘childfree women in contemporary society’ to ‘international travel trends’, the new ‘friend’ chose to reduce my lovely and far-ranging experiences into me having a possible (undiagnosed) mental health disorder. I knew for sure it was only a matter of time before I unfriended them, and, seeking to crystallise my reasons for doing so, I made a post about a matter of racial discrimination that had been on my mind.

Well, the person told me that my thoughts were ‘not worth thinking about’, which I viewed with incredulity. I value every thought that passes through my mind, because my experience is precious! In addition to acknowledging my deep worthiness, I could clearly see that I was in fact contributing to a conversation on racism which has a long history and is deeply relevant to an understanding the challenges of modern Australian society. My thoughts (and the boldness with which they challenged Anglo-Saxon white supremacy) should have been celebrated!

I will not accept people who treat me like this into my life. I unfriended the person with haste. 

I am happy now that I have the room for new friends who will appreciate the fabulous workings of my mind… because I appreciate myself on a fundamental level, and the lofty heights I am capable of.