On December 20th, the second edition of „Girl, show me that body (of work)“ will present a Christmas special where 6 migrant FLINTA* authors, artists and performers will put on literary readings and performative poetry.
In the event series „Girl, Show Me That Body (of Work)“, literature is an intimate room for reflection and an instrument of political-social activism, an artistic medium, and an attempt to communicate across heteronormative barriers. Above all, literature is a space for encounters beyond pigeonholing and mechanisms of exclusion. It provokes conversations about inclusion, diversity, and belonging in an open society, enabling people to dialogue respectfully. The event is curated by the Romanian author and journalist Ioana Cristina Casapu, who has been intensively researching and working with migrant womxn in Germany for ten years.
To mark the occasion, we have spoken with Ioana Cristina Casapu about the background of the event series, the selection of people featured in the upcoming issue, and her and their advice for young womxn writers in Berlin.
1. What inspired you to create the event series „Girl, show me that body (of work)“ and what difficulties have you encountered along the way?
“Girl, Show Me That Body (of Work)” is originally the title of an artwork I created as part of my solo exhibition Heart Spaces for Berlin Art Week 2020. That work was inspired by the confession of a fellow cultural worker who faced gender and ethnic discrimination while presenting her PhD work to her professor. But it’s, of course, about more than just that—it’s about the embodied disadvantages womxn face systemically and systematically in society.
From artwork to a concrete event, the invitation from Lettrétage to host the project in 2024 played a key role. The decision to create the events coincided with my personal narrative to fight discrimination in the European legal system against sexualized abuse targeting women and nonbinary people. It has been a way of channeling the pressure of battling systemic inequalities into a product designed to contribute to the development of an artistic scene largely impacted by discrimination and limited resources. Despite Germany’s years under a woman chancellor and the “No means no” reform, womxn still face inequality. Nowhere is this disparity more visible than in the experiences of migrant womxn, whose struggles are often overlooked or dismissed, leaving many feeling underserved in their rights to equal pay, child custody, or protection from sexualized violence. In such pivotal moments, community becomes a lifeline—and a driver of change. Womxn must be seen and honored with their very own seat at the table.
These events create a space to investigate how womxn’s artistic work impacts community and policies, set against the backdrop of #MeToo, the pandemic, wars, Brexit, Trump, rising far-right extremism, and the overhaul of German immigration laws. Reflecting on these issues through the artists’ biographies, the events highlight both their shared experiences and their unique aesthetics and approaches, with the conviction that art is both a means of healing and a powerful device for civic participation and representation.
Many of the challenges faced are related to resources. The pilot event was 100 percent self-designed, with its preparation amounting to hundreds of hours of work, all without any funding available. Thanks to selling out the first edition, all artists were compensated. However, the looming budgetary cuts in Berlin’s art world place such initiatives in jeopardy. The labor invested in producing such an event (or series of events) must be properly compensated, and the challenge of funding—or the ability to self-fund—at the very least impacts continuity.
2. What advice would you want to give womxn writers in Berlin who want to find and create spaces to connect and cooperate with likeminded individuals?
The words of French novelist Françoise Sagan come to mind: “I shall live badly if I do not write, and I shall write badly if I do not live.” Equally resonant are Nietzsche’s words: “A good writer possesses not only his own spirit but also the spirit of his friends.”
Writing is a lonely career and life path, often marked by poverty. The accumulation of experiences and inner knowledge often develops in darkness and silence before finding expression on the naked page and onwards in front of an audience. This balancing act demands much from a writer who, like everyone else, needs to experience a full life beyond just struggling to make ends meet. To be a vessel, we must live lives that allow us to capture the spirit of time. And to live such extraordinary lives that enable us to be the vessel, we need concrete resources. My advice to womxn writers is to build rooms of their own in the world, to take space, no matter where they are in their artistic journey, and to strive to access support. Be open, be curious, and, above all, share resources with others, whether it’s a grant you learned about that a fellow writer could apply to, a free mentorship program or a publishing house contact. There is a wealth of wisdom womxn can offer each other. We must learn from one another, question mechanisms of exclusion critically and work beyond them. Confidence is built through community, not competition. By deflecting the competitiveness ingrained in every era of womxn’s lives and replacing it with solidarity, we create a foundation for growth and mutual support. Sharing resources is not just beneficial—it is essential. This is the way forward.
3. One goal with the project „Girl, show me that body of work“ is to create concrete workshops linking authors and the general public. Are there any workshops planned yet and what can we expect from those workshops in the future?
The long-term goal is to diversify the program, which currently features four literary and performance evenings per year, by introducing co-participatory workshops. These workshops will connect established social-issues writers across diverse genres (e.g., essay, poetry, spoken word) with emerging authors in need of guidance, mentorship, and concrete spaces to experiment with language and artistic formats.
Ultimately, the aim is to shift the public’s role from consuming an experience to co-creating it. The exact formats for this evolution will be communicated in 2025.
4. What have the reactions been like after the first event back in June? Did you make any changes for the next issue?
The pilot edition received largely positive feedback, both from an open call advertised across many of Berlin’s social media groups and through networking, as well as from attendees following the event. The open call attracted almost 100 submissions, and some of the artists featured in the pilot event were selected through this process.
The next edition will include some of the authors who applied through the open call. I had the privilege of meeting incredible artists through this process, and the list of those who are to be featured remains long and open. Future editions will likely place greater emphasis on engaging with artists living with disabilities.
5. Which performers can we expect at the event on the 20th and how did you choose them?
The 20th/21st of December marks the longest, darkest night of the year—night after which, it is said, the world begins to grow lighter. I chose the performers for my next event to reflect this duality. Their topics are far from light, yet they are critical to society, each addressing themes that resonate deeply within the collective experience: work challenges as a migrant, sexual freedom, the loss of a loved one to right-wing radicalization, the quest for love, and the search for spiritual meaning in a foreign city and beyond.
I am very pleased to announce a diverse program featuring six performers from the UK, Israel, Turkey, Slovenia, and Romania: Ruth Barber, Fionnuala Kavanagh, Shlomit Lasky, Noemi Veberic Levovnik and Cemre Nur Öztürk. For this edition, I will also perform. This evening will be a moment of both celebration and commemoration—acknowledging the complexity of these challenging life narratives. Each story is twofold, with love and grief as two sides of the same coin. Both deserve remembrance, and, above all, celebration.
Find out more about the performers here.