The PLATAFORMA BERLIN FESTIVAL ran from 5 September to 13 September 2025 at Dock 11. BIPoC/Latinx artists were invited to present works that shed light on geopolitical issues, and how they connect to the current and future state of humanity.
On 5 September, a double bill was shown, starting off with the German premiere of Black Resistance Practice 1, created collaboratively by Colleen Ndemeh Fitzgerald, Naledi Majola, and Sointu Pere, which explores stories of African-diasporic oppression. “Marielle presente!” they cried, embodying the spirit of the black-brazilian queer activist tragically murdered in 2018. Marielle Franco’s death acts a symbol for the systematically oppressed, reminding them that speaking about the injustices endured by people of colour, women, and those who are forcibly dispossessed still comes with consequences. Saying her name is a form of resistance in itself, and as Colleen Ndemeh Fitzgerald, Naledi Majola, and Sointu Pere stood in line in the center of the stage, holding hands, a quiet rage seemed to stir within them, until it moved them to take a step forward.
As the three travelled throughout the space hand in hand, the sounds of their footsteps filled the room. The stage was scattered with car tires, empty jugs of water, and drumsticks, creating obstacles for the performers to move around. They broke apart for a moment, roaming the space cautiously as individuals and reunited in the upstage left corner. They started to shift their weight back and forth, stomping one foot and enacting a sweeping motion with the other. The intensity of their movements increased until a dynamic rhythm was born, incorporating their breath as they punched their right fists upward in rebellion. The strength they’d gathered carried them through the space doing a combination of stomping, making clapping sounds with their hands or with the drumsticks, tapping the water jugs for more bass and shouting resistance chants as they smiled at each other, dancing to the music they were creating—all in all, encapsulating the epitome of black joy.
Despite their efforts, the reality of their situation always seemed to re-emerge. With their backs facing us, they made their way to the upstage wall and raised their arms up over their heads. They slowly backed themselves downstage in unison, creating haunting silhouettes on the wall that grew in height—reminding me of the growing number of oppressed people being silenced everyday. Once the performers were close to the frontal facing audience, they started a new chant, spreading out on stage again, sometimes mimicking the sounds of guns. To me, this brought up strong associations with the ‘justice’ system that is in fact a source of deep injustice for people like Marielle and the communities she fought for. After three encores, Pere, Majola, and Fitzgerald left the stage chanting “Marielle presente!”, and we joined them, allowing their rage to be both felt and heard.
In Feral, the second performance of the evening, Josefina Cerda gave us a vocal performance that challenged the meaning of sexual objectification, and the empowerment of pleasure. Cerda giggled and moaned while licking a sex toy, eyeing us playfully as we sat down around them. Sitting next to a table which displayed a plethora of different sex toys, they were squirming in delight wearing a blue wig cut into a bob and a black bustier made of silver buckles with a matching black skirt. We observed, uncertain of what was to come. Cerda offered the toy they were playing with to audience members, animatedly disappointed when people didn’t want to take a lick for themselves. Decidedly unbothered, Cerda continued licking the toy like a popsicle as text was projected onto the wall behind them in their voice: “I’m an actress, a whore and addicted to pleasure.” More importantly, the text told us that they “identify as a sexual object.” The text disappeared, and Cerda took some time to get off of the chair. As they walked behind the table, a few gasps could be heard in the audience as we discovered that Cerda had been sitting on a dildo the whole time.
They took out a small keyboard and, using a setting that mimicked cats meowing, played the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”into a microphone, recording it with a loop pedal machine. The lullaby continued to play as they began speaking about their history with sex, explaining that they had become obsessed with the concept of pleasure from a young age. Their discovery also prompted them to question why society tends to view sexual objecthood as a problem, and to consider non-human entities of lesser value. If one feels a sense of empowerment through being objectified, why should it be seen as a problem?
After giving the remote control to vibrator to a brave audience member, Cerda began to record their moans into the loop pedal, laughing with pleasure as the setting seemed to have been set quite high. Dancing to their live sexually-charged vocal soundscape, they then put on a mask which looked like a vulva, and rubbed it while simultaneously pressing a second vibrator against their clitoris until they squirted onto those who sat closest. Seemingly exhausted, Cerda eventually collapsed on the table, telling us in between shallow breaths that sometimes their humanity gets in the way of their desire to be seen as an object. Perhaps the pursuit of pleasure and happiness is what connects us all and makes us human…or maybe, as Cerda put it, “humanity is overrated.”
The fact that the first piece dealt with tension, and the second with release made for a very interesting evening, leaving us in a satisfyingly reflective state.
