Sparkling white hybris

Reading the descriptions of Hybris: Choreographing Whitness on Øren’s website, I am struck by how willing and ready Øren seems to be to throw

Hybris: Choreographing Whiteness

Koreograf, utøver og produsent: Jonas Øren

Rådgivning og kunstnerisk veiledning: Cherish Menzo, Thomas Talawa Prestø
Lars Vaular

Dramaturg: Jessica Lauren, Elizabeth Taylor

Musikk: Oslo Records og YGMG

Lysdesign: Yasin Gyltepe

Produsent: Ingeborg Husbyn Aarsand

Dansens Hus, 3. september 2021

himself to the wolves. For me, a potential wolf, the questions the project aims to tackle and the language used to describe them, immediately sets off alarm bells right and left. For instance, Øren writes that he wants to ‘strategically embody’ the portrayal of Black women in popular culture by ‘amplifying his own whiteness’ while also ‘exhibiting his own privileges’. More alarms, red flags, landmines.

If you’ve somehow missed out on what is often called identity politics and have no idea what I’m talking about, here are some associative examples to bring you up to speed: Think heated discussions about cultural appropriation, not only in mainstream culture but also in the performing arts. Think people fighting online over whether drag queens (performed either by gay men or straight) are the equivalent of black face. Think white woman pop star who can’t seem to control her twerk compulsion (e.g. Miley Cyrus). Or think white woman media personality who has built her entire persona and financial empire by exploiting Black women’s aesthetics (e.g. Kim Kardashian). With only a few examples of these debates in mind, it would be hard not to see Øren’s artistic project as an attempt and a desire to provoke.

However, once Øren is on stage the provocation quickly starts to fade. We see a skilled performer with strong ballet training tapping into pop cultural references through the exploration of virtuosic movement, text and voice. We are presented with ‘a potpourri of rap, ballet, twerking and contemporary dance’ as Dansens Hus so accurately describes the piece in the communication text on their website. The different materials and the way Øren performs it, echo feelings of struggle and vulnerability, but also liberty and empowerment.

‘men se på meg nuh’

The initial part of the solo shows us a meeting between different genres of dance movement, while the second part stages a series of texts performed as raps. The first costumes, a white sparkling shirt and tights combined with long sport shorts, appear to literally symbolize ‘whiteness’ and a desire to shine. With the ‘hybris’ in mind, the symbolism is both striking and clever, almost cynical. Self-discovery, the default of many dance solos, is the driver of the choreography. What we see is an impressive performer who invites us to be seduced. Letters and words appear on an LED banner. ‘Jonas Øren’ is followed by ‘Small town’ several times. Øren plays with hip hop culture, where attitudes of excessive pride and self-confidence are a strategy for revolting against or subverting the power of the oppressor. If a system doesn’t want to see you, you make sure you are seen.

Homage to Black women culture? Or celebration of the self? As confusing as this mash up of ‘Black references performed by white body’ might be, I understand how this pride strategy resonates with ‘Jonas Øren’, the persona on stage. The performer could be seen as the white, male, young, gay individual (or artist) in search of a place (or stage) to explore his gender identity and sexuality in the face of an oppressive, heteronormative society. For any marginalized social group, places of visibility are crucial for survival. It’s easy to see how the lack of such places – Øren raps to us how he is from a ‘small town’ in West-Norway (‘men se på meg nuh’) – could impact one’s sense of self. I can also see how young people, due to an absence of queer (sub)cultures, end up blindly accumulating and appropriating behaviour that appears in films, on TV and online. Finally, I can also understand that this is an interesting phenomena and something worth reflecting on, in this case artistically.

Anthropological pathology

But even if one can draw parallels between different forms of discrimination, they are not interchangeable. As a white woman living in the West my own experiences of sexism will inform how I relate to stories of racism and other forms of discrimination, but that’s not to say that I ‘know’ or understand racism. If I would claim to do so, that would be a violation in itself. Furthermore, experiences of discrimination are influenced by local context (here, white Norway) and need to be addressed as such. In an identity politics frame, the proposed equation in Hybris: Choreographing Whiteness is not only far out of balance, but a very tricky point of departure for an artistic research, to say the least. There is a long (racist) history of investigating ‘the other’ and Black women have suffered from this (white, mostly male) anthropological pathology disproportionately. With that in mind, any kind of fascination with ‘the other’ – in this case with Black women – needs some serious, critical thinking through. The performative choice to use irony and jokes, for example by integrating West-Norwegian slang in the rap lyrics, feels ‘off’. It invites a dangerous kind of cuteness. What does it mean when we, a majority white audience, respond with laughter?

The fact that the show contextualizes itself in an accompanying publication comes as no surprise. Øren is aware that his work presents a ‘problem’ and writes in the foreword that he wants to make space for ‘problematizing’ his interest. The interview with Camara Lundestad Joof and the poetic writings of Rania Broud and Amy Black Ndiaye that follows, all bring new dimensions to the thematic framework of the project in ways that are generous and honest – but also disturbing. These authors speak, among other things, about being harmfully stereotyped on stage; of not knowing how to twerk (but be expected to know); of the insecurities that lie within their bodies, and of the contradictions that come with intersectional identities. The publication appears to be a gesture by Øren to give a platform to authors who have the authority and lived expertise vis à vis the intersection of racism and sexism in a Nordic context – a way to give a local voice to Ørens interest in Black women culture. But it also can be seen as a justification, even instrumentalisation. I am sure this is not Øren’s intention, but for what it is, the complexity of these stories, the problems and discomfort they create, are not visible on stage. What remains is a fun solo signed by the single male author, and the fantasy and belief that a white body could possibly embody all of this. (Published 09.08.2021)