Visible, but Not Seen: Navigating the Politics of Visibility

Introduction

This reflection began after a quiet conversation with fellow artists. We were speaking about what it takes to stay rooted—not just as artists, but as people who are constantly creating space for others while navigating systems not built for us.

At one point, they said, “You’re visible, but do they really see you?”

That line landed deep. It stayed in my body. This writing comes from that place.

Exploration of the perfomance - Dis(placed) Shadows

As a performer and choreographer, my body is where the work begins. It holds the vibration of memory, resistance, and presence. But I’ve learned that being visible is not the same as being understood—and that presence alone doesn’t always guarantee recognition.

In my practice, especially through MAKUDA (Makurumbandi Dance Company), I work with vibration—not only as a physical sensation, but as a mode of listening, connecting, and moving beyond borders. I create from what lives beneath the surface: the stories carried in silence, the gestures passed through lineage, the tensions between expectation and expression.

A moment from NOT MY BONES

But in the cultural field—especially within Nordic structures—visibility is often shaped by institutions, funding systems, and aesthetic norms. You’re seen when your work aligns with what is already legible to those in power. You’re asked to explain, simplify, or shift. And even when you’re welcomed in, it’s often on someone else’s terms. Sometimes, you’re visible—but still not seen.

Bell Hooks once wrote, “Being oppressed means the absence of choices.” Through works like MY SONG and Not My Bones,

I’m reclaiming those choices. I’m creating visibility that doesn’t perform for approval, but allows space for honesty, complexity, and care.

Sara Ahmed writes, “When you expose a problem, you pose a problem.” That has stayed with me. Raising questions about power, exclusion, or who gets to define artistic value isn’t always welcomed. But silence is not an option. As a choreographer, I work through the body—and the body never lies. My movement is how I tell truth, even when it’s uncomfortable.

My Song

In the process of building MAKUDA, I’m not only creating new works—I’m also shaping a space. A space where stories from the margins are not just included, but centered. Where dancers don’t have to erase parts of themselves to belong. Where visibility is shared, not extracted.

Frantz Fanon said, “Each generation must, out of relative obscurity, discover its mission, fulfill it, or betray it.” My mission is to move—not just to perform—but to move systems, to move with others, and to move toward something freer.

MY SONG

This spring, I will perform MY SONG—my award-winning solo—at Dansehallerne in Copenhagen. It’s a personal work, yes, but it also speaks across time and space. I welcome all who step into the room to experience and reflect on this piece—to feel its vibration beyond geographical and cultural borders, to move together.

So I keep asking: What kind of visibility do we truly need?

And how do we move—honestly, fully, and freely—once we are visible?

You can read about the upcoming performance here: https://dansehallerne.dk/en/public-program/performance/18157/