Day 3: Friday 5 June

Today a packed program including the entire program from Turkey, films from the Netherlands and the theme Parenting. We also present a lecture: Trans * Bodies , Sex, and Desire: the Utopian Impulse, and don’t forget the Video Loops and Installations at 4bid Gallery! To relax after a busy day we have Night Bar Emperium.

Vandaag is een bomvol programma met onder andere het hele programma uit Turkije, films van eigen bodem en films over ouderschap en trans*. Verder is er de lezing: Trans* Bodies, Sex, and Desire: the Utopian Impulse (let op: voertaal Engels), en vergeet de Video Loops en Installaties bij 4bid Gallery niet. Om stoom af te blazen na zo’n drukke dag is er natuurlijk weer het Nachtcafé Emperium.

At Rialto
* Benedenzaal
12:30-14:00  ParenThood
14:15-15:50  Sex work 1 + talk
16:15-18:15  From Turkey 1 + talk
18:45-20:30  Made in Sweden
20:45-22:25  From Turkey 2 + talk

12:45-14:25  Traditions*
14:45-16:20  Before the last curtains falls
16:30-18:20  The Netherlands + Q&A
19:00-21:00  Trans*man shorts
21:15-23:05  It Gets Better

10:00-22:00  ‘My Genderation’ video loop

At 4bid Gallery
14:00-16:00  Opening Art Expo + Meet the Artists
12:00-18:00  Art Expo Embodiment

At Molli
16:00-18:00  VOKU lunch

At Emperium
11:00-13:00 Lecture Trans* Bodies, Sex, and Desire: the Utopian Impulse
22:00-06:00 Night Bar

One thought on “Day 3: Friday 5 June

  1. Gani Met, guest at the From Turkey program:

    Three Generations Fucked Me

    Sex determines class and class determines identities. Let’s say there are two adults. And let’s assume they are very enthusiastic about having sex (we shortly like to use the term “to fuck each other”). The inputs & outputs of, and the untouched preparations for, this business are undertaken through a series of procedures and formality rituals of form filling. Just as unbuttoning is the prologue of getting naked, the exchange of some “very confidential” information is a prerequisite for fornication.
    “Where do you live?”
    “What do you do?”
    “Where are you from?”
    These are critical questions. First the whiteness of the white should be noted down. Your class origin, what economic / social stratum you will be classified as, and simply your whiteness will be measured on sensitive scales; and then will come the next step.

    Actually the intercourse between these two people has ceased to be a mere matter of sex long time ago. Overlaps on certain levels matter more than the intersection between bodies. These overlaps are to be controlled and confirmed in the first place. Do the classes, titles, career situations, ethnic identities match one another? This needs to be viewed first.

    You are asked what you are. Are you a woman? A man? Gay, lesbian, heterosexual?… Which one?
    I am always tempted to think about how it makes one feel when one is asked to present a criminal record, or to arrange some certificate, in the light of these questions so as to make it to the level of having sex. I guess this way such things are talked over and decided prior to sex – assuring cocks, pussies and asses so to speak. The question of who will make use of what organ of theirs -and what not to use at the same time- is clarified with no room for doubt. We are civilized people anyway. Now we can start. Won’t you help yourselves?…
    How can a person want to have sex after such agony of examination ayol?…

    Here you have scenes of humanity from the modern times. That who knows, knows it well: before being put into a pot to be boiled, and even before we pay for them and buy them in the market, that is, when they are still alive, broilers live in big broiler farms. The word “farm” here is a mere figure of speech, of course. These chickens are kept in tiny compartments in which they can barely fit their bodies and fed in torturous ways discovered to help them reach the optimal weight in the shortest time possible to be cut. We encounter them only as packaged dead bodies on market shelves. These chickens do not react the typical way that we know of chickens when taken to slaughter. They keep glancing at their executioners with blank eyes in a weird state of non-reaction. They don’t ever think of running away or making a scene – not even a small one. Their life resistance is seized from them -even before their fleshy bodies are- and colonized.

    The new generation is somehow a bit similar to these broiler chickens. I believe to be in a position to say some things about this generation. I am 45 years old. Considering the fact that I am having sex with people who are 15 years older than me, one can see that I am speaking from a rather privileged point of view that renders possible a comparison between three generations.

    The main categories are: “Kulampara”s, namely, the group known as asslovers. These people love ass. Golden agers, married and well-settled… I wonder what kind of relationship these people, who are enamored by boys’ asses, have with their wives. It must be a responsibility that brings compulsory service to mind. And then comes the group that comprises my peers. As you can imagine, these people constitute the most crowded part of my client portfolio. Nowadays I am making love to their adolescent and adult kids. I can say without any hesitation that the last generation is the worst. These kids are “hormonal.” They don’t know how to make love; nor do they know how to fuck or get fucked. Neither loving, nor sharing do they know. The slum kids of this generation are fine, though. The adolescents of the slums fuck like coppersmiths work with copper. The urban group is the worst. Actually they are the ones who eat rather well. Like in all other fields, they obey the orders & bans of science with full belief when it comes to nutrition. Having become a user manual each to live right, sociology, psychology, and sexology teach these kids techniques, tactics, and condition. They lead lives that seem purified in refineries.

    I used to like making others feel jealous 25 years ago. I would do stuff to be beaten. My rage, anger, hatred would be soothed and satisfied while being fucked after the beating. I used to get jealous. I wanted people to get jealous over me. I would fuck upon being beaten. I would fuck beating. I would come crying. On the shoulders of my partner, smothered in tears… This is another type of pleasure. It is possible that BDSM is the refined version of this pleasure – a version devoid of love, defined as a user manual, coming with a guarantee certificate. Today’s BDSM used to be something that harbored love in the old times. The system required the exile of love from its motherland. All these mobile phones, cyberspace, and social networks are there to avenge the dethroned king in exile. Yes. Three generations have fucked me. I have to admit that I cannot perform like in the old days. But I can easily claim that I can pull this new generation out of my pocket (I can outdo them). The slum kids have it all. I find whatever I look for in these ones. A young man from Mamak treats my body like he forges metal. It is only in the slums that you can find such ones. And yes: I am good at figuring out what’s up. PR firms are conducting public opinion research projects with rather high budgets so as to learn what I know. To learn this topic, however, one needs to consult me.

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