Whoever Teaches Learns in the Act of Teaching; Whoever Learns Teaches in the Act of Learning

Introduction

When we talk about ableism, racism, sexism & transmisogyny, colonization, police violence, etc., we are not looking to academics and experts to tell us what’s what – we are lifting up, listening to, reading, following, and highlighting the perspectives of those who are most impacted by the systems we fight against. By centering the leadership of those most impacted, we keep ourselves grounded in real-world problems and find creative strategies for resistance.

Sins Invalid Collective¹

I was not racialized until I became an education migrant in Germany in 2016, and it took me six more years to realize how racism and colonial legacies are still deeply rooted in the field of knowledge and cultural production. In Berlin, a diverse array of immigrant community activism exists in various forms, working with local and transnational networks, intervening in exhibitions and archives, turning linear knowledge production upside down, centering on empowerment and inclusive language(s), making visible and resisting processes of racialization. This essay is the first attempt to write down my observations after following and working with several self-organized immigrant and post-migrant communities in Berlin over the last two years, whom I learn from and engage with to varying extents.

To avoid generalization, special attention shall be paid to two different terms: while immigrant indicates people who have come to live in another country for an extended period (either long-term or permanent), migrant is more generic.² In Germany, people who were born abroad and moved to Germany are referred to as “first-generation” migrants. In 2006, Shermin Langhoff coined the term post-migrant to describe the special background of Germans who are the children of immigrants;³ the prefix “post” describes social negotiation processes that take place in the phase after migration.⁴ The Ballhaus Naunynstraße was declared to be a “post-migrant theater”; the Leipzig-based Initiative Postmigrantisches Radio is working “from the margins of the white majority society into the center of a society of the Many.” In a post-migrant society, migration is acknowledged as an important part of East German history – continuing to talk about the current struggles and disadvantages facing generations of families with migration backgrounds.

Born and raised in Vietnam, I first called myself a du học sinh [international student] and saw myself as an expat, with higher socio-economic status (education privileges), who had moved to another country for a short-term period. Gradually, experiences of daily and institutional racism led me to other terms, with which I could better find myself and connect with others. Racialized people, those who experience racism, are encouraged to search for their own Selbstbezeichnung [self-designation or self-definition], the empowering way that an individual or group calls and identifies themselves – in contrast to Fremdbezeichung [the identity attributed to one by others], the name that the majority society (dominant group), media discourse, and politics talk about and use to describe marginalized groups, and which is connected to processes of othering.⁵ As I identify with the Viet- and Asian-diasporic communities in Berlin, I particularly find the ongoing discussions about identity politics and the term community fascinating. While the majority of first-generation migrants find a sense of belonging in communities of shared ethnicity, nationality, or culture, more members of the second and third generations in the diaspora overcome regionalism and connect with others based on shared political struggles and perspectives – such as through the US-adopted term people of color.⁶ In Vietnamese language, the word community is often used uncritically in singular form [cộng đồng] – not taking into account people’s many different realities – whether because they migrate to study, seek refuge, for economic reasons, or the various and complex needs and goals of members in a community. As Urmila Goel indicated, “it is about forms of community-building that are more self-reflective and permeable”;⁷ there is no singular story about one Vietnamese community or BIPoC community, one struggle only – but many. Many stories, many struggles, many Vietnamese communities, many BIPoC communities.

The term activism also encompasses a wide range of activities and motivations. Because it is highly subjective, what is considered as activism for this group is seen as dissent by other groups. Therefore, I want to be careful when talking about “immigrant community activism,” as each word could be understood differently while they are also overused. In this paper, I mainly focus on the initiatives and organizations coordinated by members of the second generation among Asian-diasporic and BIPoC communities in Berlin. While the work of DAMN* (deutsche asiat*innen, make noise!) and un.thai.tled shed light on the underlying need for self-organization and safer spaces to share experiences, the example of korientation in knowledge production and dissemination highlights two things. First, the lack of a centralized knowledge source in the Viet- and Asian-diasporic communities has its own pros and cons; second, other formats, such as empowerment workshops or community focused radio- and podcast-making, could be better settings to facilitate horizontal, intergenerational, and intercommunal dialogs, as well as to counter the problematic hierarchies of institutional frameworks. Funding challenges are addressed regarding the sustainability of these initiatives and organizations. Other than that, the significant roles of care work, translation and mediation, as well as relationship work will be analyzed.

The need for self-organization

I first came to know about DAMN* through social media during the COVID-19 pandemic. On their website is the following description:

DAMN* is a political, community-building platform and open activist collective for people of Asian descent based in Germany. First initiated in 2017-2018 (Berlin) with only 2-3 members, DAMN* started online and then transfers into the offline world as well, due to the lack of Asian German political participation on various levels:
(1) not being included in (mainstream/academic) discourses about racism, fascism, sexism, capitalistic structures etc.,
(2) engaging in such discourses collectively,
(3) taking actions against oppressive structures collectively. There was a need to connect and talk about racist experiences in a safer space where one’s own experiences are taken seriously and are not downplayed.⁸

Increased incidents of racism targeting people marked as East Asian and Southeast Asian during and after the pandemic, the rise of the far right in Germany, etc., are the reasons for DAMN* members to come together to be vocal about “our own experiences,” to empower each other and “show solidarity on the street,” to seek accompliceship or allyship. The connection with each other is not just for its own sake, but also to be able to act together, to speak up and change something. The members expressed a wish to be able to “meet up to go to demonstrations together or participate in organizing demonstrations” – hence, “the name itself is a call for action.” For those born and raised in Asian families and culture, it is not a norm to claim space, break silence, and make noise, not to mention “making noise in academic spaces, art institutions, theater, white anti-fascist spaces.” For generations of families with migrant backgrounds, to survive in the diaspora means to not complain, to work hard, to be nice and polite. On its Facebook group, DAMN* strives to redefine the Asian identity in their community agreements:

Participation in this group is strictly for people of Asian descent in or from Germany. Members may also be located in other parts of the world, though, this platform is focused on Germany and the Asian diaspora within it. The term “Asian” is not limited to East-Asia and South-East Asia. Recommend other people from the Asian diaspora who want to make a change and actively participate.⁹

Here are efforts to construct and maintain a safer space while reflecting on the terms of identity politics. The community agreements make it clear that to self-organize means “everyone is responsible in keeping the space safe,” and everyone has the power to initiate something, whether social action or projects. This idea resonates with how un.thai.tled, a collective of Thai-German-diasporic artists, works with other Southeast Asian and Asian-diasporic communities, and BIPoC-led groups. Wishing to be more independent from the dominantly white German system, members of un.thai.tled also come together due to the lack of space for themselves to be “freed from titles and labels,” to “stand stronger and voice louder.” Their artistic-cultural projects aim toward breaking stereotypes about Thailand and Southeast Asia; among them are “Forgetting Thailand” (performative intervention, Humboldt Forum, 2022), “un.thai.tled FILM FESTIVAL BERLIN” (Sinema Transtopia, 2020), “Beyond the Kitchen – Stories from the Thai Park” (exhibition, Thai Park, 2020), “Wandering Salon” (film festival, Berlin, 2022), and the most recent project, “In Nobody’s Service” (exhibition, Gallery Wedding, 2024), which raises awareness about “the violent and clichéd images projected on Thai and Filipina women and queer bodies” in the West. Through such projects, the marginalized bodies of queer and diasporic people become the producers and receptors of knowledge, no longer merely “spoken about” but actively “speaking” for themselves. So-called “knowledge” has been queering: not vertical, but horizontal. In 2022, members of DAMN*, un.thai.tled, and other representatives of Asian diaspora artist-led initiatives based in Germany joined a workshop titled “Mutating Kinship Lab” to exchange knowledge and resources. The publication that documents the five-day lab is a great source for a view into how they connect their manifold practices and envision a future of care and belonging.¹⁰

Subaltern knowledge production

“The systems of order, media, and agents of knowledge are […] always and fundamentally part of power relations and they themselves produce power effects.”¹¹ Here, it would be helpful for me to lend some insight from other marginalized communities in Berlin. The quote above was cited in the lecture “Romani und Sinti feministisches Wissen als Gegenerzählungen” [Roma and Sinti feminist knowledge as counter-narratives] (2023) by Prof. Dr. Jane Weiß from RomaniPhen e.V., in which she also asked four questions about knowledge production in relation to Roma and Sinti people:

- How is something qualified as “knowledge” at all?
- How is knowledge presented, formed, conveyed, transmitted etc. in the media?
- Who are the agents of knowledge, and why is it them?
- Which genealogies of knowledge can be recognized?¹²

These questions offer guidance to think about power dynamics in the field of knowledge and cultural production, which are traditionally passed on and still much determined by “homogenizing, ethnicizing, and racializing stereotypes” and “racially structured relations.” Very often, “these dominant bodies of knowledge are without the involvement of people or knowledge from the mentioned communities.” DAMN*, in its online community agreements, emphasizes the need to pay attention to the hierarchies of knowledge and one’s positionality in regard to knowledge production and dissemination:

We recognize that an academic, often Western centered, language has established itself with which we discuss political topics. We are trying to work towards a more inclusive language without theorizing our whole experience. It is a constant experiment of language use. […] We want to de-center White knowledge and listen to each other instead of imposing theories on others that had had different experiences (for example those who did not grew up in a predominantly White society). For those who have not experienced racism or discrimination in their “home-country,” reflect on your position in your country and that perhaps, you have been part of the dominant group.¹³

In this part, I want to focus on korientation, a “(post-)migrant self-organization and a cultural-educational network for Asian Germans and Asians with the focus of their lives on Germany.”¹⁴ Founded in 2018, korientation is one of the few Asian-diasporic organizations in Germany that actively and consistently works in the field of knowledge and cultural production. They do this mainly through community-building projects, centering on “cross-community and cross-generational exchange.” One of the most important publications of korientation is the anthology Asiatische Deutsche Extended. Vietnamesische Diaspora and Beyond (2021). According to its editor Kien Nghi Ha, this is the first publication that “encounters the subject of Vietnamese/Asian immigration in Germany from a postcolonial and Asian Diasporic perspective.” The contributors are Asian-diasporic scholars in Germany, and additionally include influential voices from the US such as Trinh T. Minh-ha, so as to bring in comparative perspectives. Other than essays, the anthology also compiles transcriptions of panels, discussions, and dialogs between community members. The volume discusses several topics, among them “contemporary meanings of the Asian diaspora,” “local political issues struggling with racialization, immigration control and anti-Asian violence,” “cross-bordering forms of solidarity,” and “the cosmopolitan potential of migration and BIPoC/diasporic communities in Germany.” Also worth mentioning are the brochures Anti-Asian Racism: An Introduction to Political Education Work¹⁵ (2022) and Remember to Change: Commemoration of Phan Văn Toàn¹⁶ (2023), with the latter also being translated into Vietnamese so as to make it more accessible for affected communities to read.

As far as I know, knowledge sources about and of the Viet- and Asian-diasporic communities are not centralized. One could find thematic books at certain institutions, such as state-owned public libraries or university libraries (e.g. the Institute for Asian and African Studies at Humboldt University of Berlin). Some other self-organizations also have their own publications, like GePGeMi e.V., and a physical space for bookshelves, such as Korea Verband. Decentralized and fragmented knowledge production and dissemination could make the use and mobilization of resources less efficient; there exists a lack of coordination among stakeholders for collaboration and collective action, as well as the duplication of efforts. On the other hand, it allows for a greater diversity of perspectives, experiences, and voices to be heard. There is room for different individuals and groups to address community challenges; the multiple voices and narratives ask for intersectional and trauma-sensitive approaches. Hence, korientation and other self-organizations also look for other formats to facilitate the process of knowledge production and dissemination, such as empowerment workshops or community-based podcast- and radio-making (e.g. the Rice and Shine podcast, Initiative Postmigrantisches Radio, Spicy Ginkgo Collective’s workshops and karaoke sessions, etc.). These settings might be better for the facilitation of inter- and cross-communal or intergenerational dialogs about important topics such as trauma, conflict and accountability, anti-racism, the culture of remembrance, etc. Up to now, language barriers still pose a challenge for Asian-diasporic communities to jointly process these issues. Unnoticed and unacknowledged differences between community groups (such as in Vietnamese communities)¹⁷ can lead to major conflicts, making people wary of working together for common causes. Long-term efforts are required to archive community knowledge and connect struggles between different migrant and post-migrant communities.

Translation, mediation, relationship work

Within Viet-diasporic communities, I have observed that while many second-generation members feel compelled to delve into the past for discussions of collective identity construction, the older generations, having directly experienced historical events, often prefer not to engage too deeply, discursively and emotionally.¹⁸ On the other hand, most of the sources that provide contemporary socio-political discourses are primarily available in German (academic) language, with some translated into Vietnamese (rarely in plain language), as previously mentioned. However, these resources have not effectively reached Vietnamese-speaking communities, partly due to the significant gap in political awareness and political language between German and Vietnamese. Bridging these gaps sustainably requires more translation efforts, relationship work, understanding, patience, and time. In this part, I want to discuss the role of translation, knowledge mediation, and relationship work in community activism, drawing from my direct working experiences as a translator and live interpreter for a project.

The project was organized by the Federal Agency for Civic Education, and my colleague and I provided German-Vietnamese live interpretation for podium discussions and community workshops. These events were held in cities with significant Vietnamese populations, who were former contract workers in the days of the GDR. During the workshops, which centered on safety and empowerment, the participants – including both first- and second-generation members – were encouraged to share their experiences and memories of living in Germany. Several expressed that it was their first time taking part in such a program. As intimate dialogs were not commonly initiated at home, some first-generation individuals only now learned about the experiences of racism, identity, and mental health struggles faced by the second generation. Similarly, for second-generation members, it was their first time hearing from the cô chú [older people] about the GDR experiences without “jokes” (talking in a funny way, so as to counter the painful memories and feelings attached). The participation of both generations inadvertently created a family dynamic, which unavoidably (re)produced internalized violence stemming from experiences between the homeland and the diaspora, such as: differing notions of gender roles, inherited trauma from war and poverty, and age-related hierarchies. As interpreters, we strove to mediate and convey meanings in a way that did not perpetuate these dynamics, while also handling potential triggers. It was important to remind oneself that the concept of a “workshop,” especially a safe(r) and empowering one, might not be familiar to everyone. After the workshops, the organizing team took time to discuss the significance of care work during the learning process, the necessity of trauma-sensitive approaches while facilitating, the need for psychological support within the communities, and the role of translation in fostering intergenerational and intercommunal dialogs.

In a horizontal and bottom-up model of a workshop that prioritizes community building, it is important to hold a brave(r) space of appreciation for others to practice sharing their experiences. This embodied, personal knowledge is actively listened to and respectfully processed. As organizers and interpreters/mediators, we also practice highlighting the “perspectives of those who are most impacted by the systems,” while taking care of ourselves mentally-emotionally before and after. Preparation does not stop difficult moments from arising, or from people getting (re)triggered; we learn to step in for each other when necessary, and make sure that no one has to take on too many responsibilities. It is also part of the learning process for everyone – the organizing team, the participants, members of the first and second generations – to sensitize themselves to difficult topics and take accountability after minor conflicts.

The mediating role of the translator-interpreter is specifically important in community organization. They mediate potential misunderstandings, cultural-political discrepancies, and power dynamics between different groups. They can also engage in outreach and mobilization for (having) the social networks of both generations – helping to raise awareness of common issues and strategies. As mentioned above, I was not racialized until I migrated. In academic settings (universities, institutions, etc.), as a student, then an intern, now a cultural worker, I adopted not just the language, its vocabularies, but also the way of thinking which “reproduces scripts of whiteness.” I could not immediately resist until realizing how problematic it was. Community members of a former contract worker who was murdered in the 1990s by a right-wing-motivated person are not properly included in the process of building a memorial for him. Discursive exhibitions about former GDR migrant workers are increasingly funded, which is great, but the voices of the protagonists are involved only superficially. Institutions still prefer to invite international artists – those who stay for a short period of time and then leave – rather than local ones, to avoid “trouble” – the so-called “tokenization” phenomenon. In order to extend my solidarity and sense of belonging to different groups and communities, I could take into account the realities of the Many, their different struggles and ways to resist, and stand by them in their various efforts. This could be in the form of translating a flyer or a brochure, informing myself about their activities, or the long process of reflecting on my own positionality, personal privileges, and barriers, stopping myself from jumping to assumptions and conclusions.

(Semi-)Conclusion

Recent political upheavals in Berlin have negatively impacted the situation with public funding, which plays an important role in the formation and sustainability of self-organized migrant and post-migrant communities. Censorship, forced closures, and disinvitations give the impression that in the future, the framework for BIPoC-led groups in Germany and Berlin might become even narrower, as stated by Nina Martin, the co-founder of Oyoun, an important cultural venue located in Berlin-Neukölln: “Migrant positions are only allowed if they do not expand the perspective of the majority society.”¹⁹ Many dissident voices are policed, shut down, or banned because they speak up about political matters on their private social media accounts. This threatens the politics of visibility, which acknowledges that individuals hold multiple social identities which intersect and shape their experiences of visibility and invisibility. Writing this article is thus necessary for me to process what I feel at the present time, after being involved in community work for a period.

In the article, I highlight that community activism, as evidenced by numerous self-organized groups within the Asian-diasporic and BIPoC communities in Berlin, finds expression in informal settings, such as a karaoke session, a participatory workshop, or a podcast project of oral histories. In their efforts to value the insights of marginalized groups and empower them to contribute to public narratives, intersectional-inclusive approaches and practices are used, contrasting with conventional modes of knowledge production based on the “expert vs. non-expert” binary. The fragmentary and decentralized knowledge and cultural production within the Viet- and Asian-diasporic communities could perpetuate existing power dynamics; yet, it also potentially invites further cross-communal and intergenerational learning processes – or even extends to connections between the homeland and the diaspora.

I wish to extend my heartfelt appreciation to the individuals and community-organizing initiatives dedicated to good causes, both those mentioned and those not explicitly named in this article. Their endeavors demand not only “knowledge,” but also sensitivity and a profound sense of responsibility. There remain numerous aspects I aspire to explore and understand through hands-on experience, and I am eager to continue validating the observations made in this paper. I look forward to hearing from readers, welcoming any questions or comments you may have.