< zurück

As we experience the night, "In the veins lava, I want to feel that I was there!"

People from Saxony who have to experience (multiple) discrimination share their view of nightlife here in literary contributions and testimonials.

"In the veins lava, I want to feel that I was there!" (Casper)

by Jennifer Sonntag (she/her)

CN: Ableism, discrimination against blind people, violence, fear, death, right-wing extremism, social chauvinism/punk hostility, unconsciousness, paramedics, panic attack, pogo

 

I was a young punk and just about to go blind. Since I could see very badly, I always struggled quite far forward at beloved concerts to be able to see the stage better. For a visually impaired girl, this was especially tricky at punk concerts. At "Den toten Hosen" a couple of guys pogoed at me so hard that I, as a young scrawny thing, couldn't resist. One of them suddenly jumped on my back. I had long since lost my girlfriend, everyone was punching and kicking wildly, I could no longer jump free and because I saw so little, I simply could not get out of this scenario. It dragged me down, it was like drowning. I guess these guys didn't have the "unwritten rules" of the mosh pit down so well back then. At some point I was clinging to a barrier fence and almost threw up from shortness of breath. Shortly thereafter, I heard that a girl had died in the crowds at a Hosen concert. Suddenly I could well imagine how that could happen in the pushing and shoving and today I am still sometimes afraid of losing control at concerts. I'm sure that's also because I've gone completely blind in the meantime. Actually, I'm totally into it when people go berserk to the music, as long as you look out for each other and nobody gets trampled.But I also often experienced solidarity. At another concert, a girl kept tapping me on the shoulder because she saw that I was about to fall off. That's what happened. I was then passed quite quickly over the heads of the fans to the paramedics, but I don't remember that. When I came to again, I was allowed to watch the rest of the concert together with a paramedic and she was totally caring. A problem was sometimes the way there and back, because to be in the dark as an obvious punk in a city where there were also Nazis, that was already daring without visual impairment. I could see particularly badly in the dark and run away particularly badly.

 

As I transitioned from the punk to the goth scene, my eyesight deteriorated more and more. I still loved concerts, but at the beginning of my blindness I suffered a lot from not being able to see what was happening on stage. My other senses had to help. I regularly went to the Wave-Gotik-Treffen in Leipzig, breathed in the scent of the scene, explored the markets and fairs with attentive fingertips, met celebrated bands and shook their hands, which were felt autographs. As a scene person I got to know many locations over the years, musicians* and bands soon belonged to my circle of friends. My current partner was the keyboard player of my favorite band at the time. He showed my hands the stage setup, the backstage, the merchandise and all the lively stuff. The only problem was that I was sometimes left without a companion during the concert, because he was on stage himself and also helped to set up and take down the stage. I didn't want to overburden my dear friends as permanent companions. The less I saw, the worse I found myself alone in the noisy clubs. I remember a violent panic attack during a sound check because I couldn't get some fresh air myself and relieve my ears. I was especially sad when I had to stay home because I had no company for the evening. My friend drove to his gig alone. I wanted to be there so badly and cried crocodile tears into my pillow. Today I would try to get support through the initiative "Inclusion must be loud". Here it would be interesting to experience how quickly one can build blind trust with someone who is initially a stranger. If a man would declare himself willing, he would then have to take me to the bathroom during the evening, for example. But in general, I experienced a lot of openness from the organizers in the small locations. Here, the flexibility was often great when it came to making spontaneous arrangements, e.g. regarding a seat for me. I sometimes experienced rejectionism when others left me out of greetings or only addressed me when my partner was present. In a scene forum I was quite mobbed by some users, because they couldn't imagine that a blind woman really contributed to literature and culture. They made fun of my projects and I kept my distance from social media for a long time after that. During that time, I started to educate people about blindness and visual impairment as a book author. And one organizer wouldn't let me perform at a reading. He only accepted authors who read themselves, and I always had my reader with me because of my then recent blindness. Because of this refusal, I felt really discriminated against. We had never experienced this in our dark-colored circle of friends in Leipzig.

 

Even today, I'm mostly in Leipzig for concerts and festivals. During the pandemic, I missed that extremely. This year I was already able to experience Drangsal, Kraftklub, Kummer, Casper, The Cure and Blond. Since I'm not only blind, but can't stand for long due to a pain condition, I need a chair at concerts. I was able to arrange this with Conne Island by phone and got a seat. I was overjoyed, because without that little arrangement I wouldn't have been able to be at this standing-room-only event. At Highfield, I was able to ask for helpful details online under "Accessibility," which is often not possible with other event organizers. Many think only in "wheelchair" and that also not differentiated. However, I don't want to block a valuable wheelchair space, but need a seat plus clearance for my companion. The parking and toilet situation are also important to discuss. The Highfield was super responsive to my type of disability here. Only once the old pogo panic came up with me, when we wanted to go to the handicapped stand and everyone was standing close to each other (and sometimes already quite close). I had zero optical control and saw myself already involuntarily in a "wall of death". The people did not get that I am blind and where I want to go. The cane is hard to see in the crowds and my companion could not make himself understood in the noise and with folding chair under the arm. It would be helpful if the access for disabled people, especially in the dark, is attended by the securities or you can turn directly to someone when the crowd blocks the way. Here, every venue is different and has its own pitfalls, as does every disability. But I was rewarded with great concerts and ended up completely absorbed in the music and pure happiness in the midst of the people. I recommend the "Barrierefrei feiern" initiative to event organizers who want to enable people with disabilities to enjoy a safe concert experience.

PROFILE:

 

About me: I am a social pedagogue, journalist and author. As an inclusion ambassador, I am committed to a barrier-free art and cultural landscape.

My favorite artist: Kraftklub, Casper, Kummer, Drangsal, Blond

I never go out partying without: a sighted companion I can trust and my guide cane (it's too loud for the guide dog at concerts and festivals)

A successful night for me is: a night when I don't feel excluded because of my disability or have to be afraid of being attacked, a night without stupid comments and anxiety because someone has overlooked my cane or finds me out of place

My favorite location or event in Saxony:‍

Locations: Conne Island, Moritzbastei, UT Connewitz, Werk 2 (even though these places have barriers, communication and creativity helped to give me access and participation even with my disabilities, that's great!)
Festivals: Wave-Gotik-Treffen and Highfield-Festival
Series of events: Reading Stage "Schkeuditzer Kreuz

Instagram: @paulchen_with_wife

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"How We Experience Nightlife" writes stories, impressions, and experiences of people with diverse and intersectional perspectives from nightlife. Nightlife or event life can be characterized by being exuberant, exhilarating, connecting, liberating, and networking. But it can also be exclusionary, discriminatory, and painful. People deal with these experiences differently. They develop (empowering) strategies or have to draw consequences for themselves. Many are convinced that "something like that" does not happen at their own events. But these supposedly individual experiences run structurally through our society and are also anchored in the event context.
People who have to experience (multiple) discrimination share their view of nightlife here in literary contributions and testimonials. These are multi-layered voices that are made visible and audible: Empowering, angry, reporting on violence and the accompanying pain, longing, sad, free, loud and quiet, hard and soft.
9 authors and/or artists are involved in the zine. We asked them what a successful night looks like for them, when they feel safe and strong. But also, how their experiences with sexualized violence or discrimination are.
They are part of Saxony's nightlife - whether as visitors, awareness, security, artists or organizers. During the day and at night, many of them are active against discrimination. Some of them remain anonymous, some of them introduce themselves under their contributions. Thank you for your openness, your courage and your work!
In parts, controversial and complex topics are addressed in the contributions. This is done in a very subjective and sometimes abbreviated manner, but in line with the experience gained. As editors, we see it as our task to let these reports stand uncensored and unfiltered as they are, and we think it is important to give space to controversies and discussions.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author:in

Jennifer Sunday (she/her)

Reading time

5 min

Date

December 9, 2022

Link

Link

More info