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In 2019, the Chilean performance collective LASTESIS staged the participatory protest Un violador en tu camino (A rapist in your path) outside a Valparaíso police station. Videos of the demonstration, which expressed urgent concerns around gender-based inequality and violence, quickly spread online: Women publicly reenacted its choreographed movements in various protests across Latin America and elsewhere. In unity, the protestors sang about sexual violence, punctuating their message with synchronized stomps and symbolic postures, crouching on the ground as if placed under arrest. LASTESIS, whose name translates to “the theses” in English, creates performances that aim to make feminist theory more accessible. Their communications approach, which emphasizes sharability and virality, has been central to the growing momentum of the feminist movement in the Global South and beyond.
The exhibition for the sake of dancing in the street, organized by Yasmine Nasser Diaz in collaboration with Los Angeles Nomadic Division (LAND) at OXY ARTS, celebrated the artists and collectives driving this movement. While many elements of the exhibition referred specifically to LASTESIS’ work and impact, others pointed to global feminist movements that have utilized similar strategies, tracing the connections between these efforts. The show’s title is taken from Shervin Hajipour’s 2022 Persian protest song “Baraye,” whose verses were often shared in tweets to protest the death of Jina “Mahsa” Amini, a 22-year-old Iranian woman who was killed on September 16, 2022, while in police custody for violating the hijab mandate (the song’s lyric “for the regret of living an ordinary life” amplified the urgency behind these demonstrations).1 Through the use of such media, orchestrated protests in the form of dancing and chanting gain potency in the digital realm, forging solidarity networks that transcend geographic frontiers.
On a television screen in OXY ARTS’ lobby, LASTESIS presented compiled footage of women performing Un violador, blindfolded (both to conceal their identities and in reference to the use of blindfolds in policing), chanting the protest’s lyrics—“Y la culpa no era mía, ni dónde estaba, ni cómo vestía” (and the fault wasn’t mine, not where I was, not how I was dressed)—while moving in unison. According to academic theorist Diana Taylor, dance carries embodied knowledge that is transmitted not through written records, but through reenactment2—the dynamic movement of the performers is part of what made this particular protest so effective and widespread. There is a rich legacy of artist-driven feminist protests that are multidimensional experiences, accessed through active participation. Because more recent stagings have been engineered for social media platforms, they are readily available for viewing by new audiences. This virality starkly contrasts the sometimes-hermetic concealment of institutional archives of protest movements, which are only available to those who seek them out.
Elsewhere in the exhibition, the international feminist mapping community Geochicas created an interactive world map tracing the global impact of Un violador. The touchscreen map archived videos of the protest shared on social media and marked their corresponding location with purple geotags—the locations range from major landmarks like Madrid’s Museo Reina Sofía to remote areas such as Turkey’s Mount Ida.3 Each location highlights the protest song’s influence and ability to adapt to various contexts across the world, providing a connective battle cry—the protest song’s lyrics have been translated into more than 22 languages, with modified verses to reflect the prismatic spectrum of femi- nism’s struggles.4 A risograph poster printed by Entangled Roots Press, a radical printmaking project based in Portland, OR, featured English and Spanish translations of LASTESIS’ lyrics in black sans serif font, stark against yellow illustrations of crossed arms. Stacked on a shelf for visitors to take, the posters included instructions for reenacting the accompanying choreography, a tactile gesture that contrasted the mostly digital methods that have been used to disseminate the demonstration. the accompanying choreography, a tactile gesture that contrasted the mostly digital methods that have been used to disseminate the demonstration.
LASTESIS’ work also provided context for curator Nasser Diaz’s contribution to the exhibition. Played on a 1990s television set, her two-channel video installation For Your Eyes Only (FYEO) (2021–23) incorporates video documentation of Un violador being performed in Tunis, Kolkata, and Istanbul, pointing again to the global community the protest song has helped to cultivate. The installation, which unfolded in a separate room from the rest of the exhibition, took the form of a teenager’s bedroom. A rotating disco ball illuminated a collection of curated possessions, including Nawal El Saadawi’s book The Hidden Face of Eve (1977) atop a dresser; an ACLU Know Your Rights (2021) booklet on a pink plush carpet; and a T-shirt emblazoned with “Free Palestine” hanging from a laundry basket. Many of the items are reflective of Nasser Diaz’s formative years, growing up in the United States during a period of heightened political awareness as the daughter of Yemeni immigrants. Others engage the current moment, drawing a connective thread between past and present liberative struggles.
Projected above a twin bed in the installation, TikTok videos and Instagram stories featuring femme and queer people from the Southwest Asian and North African (SWANA) diaspora danced joyfully while a looping techno track by Beirut-based sound artist Carol Abi Ghanem played in the background. The video installation, a convergence of music and dance, was a refusal of the inherent risk involved in asserting bodily autonomy in spaces that seek to repress it. During an exhibition walkthrough, Nasser Diaz brought attention to the unjust arrests of Middle Eastern women who have been publicly shamed for recording themselves dancing. Her focus on movement echoes LASTESIS’ protest strategy, which transcends online censorship and oppressive state laws around movement by refusing to abide by repressive mandates. These works provide an alternative means of engaging in political demonstrations, exhibiting a strong emphasis on women’s safety and a profound understanding of their respective contexts.
Social media has strengthened the connections among global feminist communities by embracing a chorus of voices that grows louder with each share, repost, and restaging. While protest ephemera finds its way into archives, a pertinent question arises: What becomes of the transient exchanges taking place during protests, the fleeting tunes and intimate dance moves? For the artists enjoined at OXY ARTS, the digital landscape provides a space for these exchanges to live and live on, celebrating collectivity through movement and transmitting and reveling in joy and autonomy—even against the global conditions that often command otherwise.
This review was originally published in Carla issue 34.