Inara: Light of Utopia Oakland Launch
510 Firehouse
815 Alice St.
Oakland
May 6, 2024
“No one ever stops to ask what a free Palestine looks like.”
I got to hear the prophet speak and her name is Mx.Yaffa.
She preached her word of utopia and filled the space with strength and light at the 510 Firehouse on Alice Street for the launch of Inara: Light of Utopia, an anthology that unites the voices of queer and trans Palestinians from around the world. In addition to poetry, the book is comprised of short stories, essays, visual art, and photography.
The host of the event, Zara, introduced Mx. Yaffa as a “disabled, autistic, trans, queer Muslim and indigenous Palestinian,” and when it was her time to take the stage, she talked about how rare it was to have two queer Palestinians under the same roof, let alone seeing the many who showed up on this evening. I felt honored to be in such a rare space at a beautiful book launch, surrounded by a plethora of prints for sale created by queer and trans Palestinian artists.
Yaffa held everyone’s attention as she spoke with her peaceful presence and strong-yet-gentle eye contact. Though she sat in a chair during her discussions with her collaborators, her spirit seemed to float above the room. During her conversation with Hannah Moushabeck, second-generation Palestinian American author and book marketer, the setting sun somehow found its way onto only Yaffa’s face. She embodied love and light.
“No one ever stops to ask what a free Palestine looks like,” she posed. She spoke of doing “utopia work,” but never putting her focus on Palestine, and has held that intention more recently. I appreciated the way she reframed the concept of the encampment (like the ones currently happening on college campuses worldwide) to its own self-sustaining microcosm existing outside of every patriarchal system and how “magic exists within that.”
Her ability to find the divine among intergenerational stress, trauma, and destruction is unbelievable to me. She has lost over 200 family members during violence in 1948, 1967, and the ‘90s, and now over three dozen queer trans Palestinians with whom she’s organized have been killed. “The fact that I’m devastated brings me immense joy.” Though it took me a moment to unpack this, it does make sense; she says holding the pain and the sorrow is a way of showing up for one’s ancestors.
An important part of the book launch was Palestinian African drag artist Mama Ganuush. Her infectious smile, humongous wigs, and generally playful being did not bely the fact that she struggles with multiple sclerosis, a struggle unseen. She belly danced in and among the crowd several times throughout the evening and added pure joy and levity to the program.
The conversations focused less on the contents of the new book and more on the unique and weighty experiences that Yaffa, Moushabeck, Mama Ganuush, and other contributors have had moving through the world as queer Palestinians.
A recurring theme of the final conversation, featuring four of the contributors to Inara, was the ways in which Mx. Yaffa pushed them to write about utopia. For some, it was very difficult to pull themselves out of the devastation and free their mind to be able to imagine. For others, it was a push to finish their contribution on time. Dr. Car Nazzal told us of their dyslexia, “you will watch me struggle to read this,” and read from their piece “Gaza Ranks as Top Accessible City in the World.” The piece, in which they describe the interior of an ADA accessible theater, made me feel like attaining a world that is easier for everyone to navigate is possible.
“As you enter the theater in total awe, you will notice that every single seat is accessible and customizable with large open areas for easy movement. Seats can be added or removed and there are pillows and blankets stacked as you walk in for that extra-special added comfort…Program manager, Jad Al-Assouli had this to say, ‘It is really about embracing accessibility rather than viewing ability in a hierarchical mindset. Here we see all people as equals. We know that because of us, the world is changing and we want to do our part to keep inspiring change.’”
The launch was a success, raising money, attention, awareness, and hope. I may have positioned the stage along one of the side walls of the firehouse instead of the back wall to avoid having the all-gender bathrooms as a backdrop to the stage, and the lighting in the space was the kind of abrasive fluorescent light found in an office building versus that of a theater or conference space. However, the focus was right where it should have been: on the olive tree growing through concrete, the light of the activism, and the union of queer Palestinian artists brought together by the coordination, power, and magic of Mx. Yaffa.
