The Fragile Light of Acceptance in Senegal’s Queer Cinema

Aymar Esse’s “My Father’s Kora” premiered at Locarno’s Open Doors section as a Benin-Switzerland-Germany co-production. The film follows Souleymane Everston Adowo Freudenreich, an Afro-German trans man, as he travels to Dakar, Senegal, to repair his father’s kora, a traditional instrument that holds significant cultural weight.

Born from the Mandingue world, the kora carries a long history of transmission, memory, and poetry. For Esse, the instrument “carries a profoundly living voice” that connects generations, past, and present. The use of the kora as a metaphor for Souleymane’s journey is clever, reflecting both the physical repair needed and the emotional connection to his father.

In an era where queer cinema pushes boundaries, “My Father’s Kora” takes a more nuanced approach. Director Aymar Esse wants viewers to observe and understand the complexities of identity in traditionally conservative societies without rushing to define them. This is not an activist film; rather, it’s an invitation to see the other.

The Senegalese context remains harsh towards LGBTQ individuals, with “the fragile light of a singular family story” being a rare exception. The ballroom scene portrayed in the film is depicted as a safe space for the community, but Esse questions what this means and how such spaces are created through trust and shared language.

The film’s gentle approach may raise eyebrows in an era where activism dominates discussions around queer identity. However, “My Father’s Kora” needs to offer a nuanced exploration of complex issues within the context of African cinema. As Esse astutely points out, safe spaces can be created through love and acceptance, rather than simply being given.

The power of storytelling lies in its ability to share experiences and emotions without being didactic or preachy. “My Father’s Kora” uses the metaphor of repair to explore themes of identity, belonging, and acceptance within traditional cultures. The film raises questions about how we define ourselves within these contexts, reflecting that love can make its own choices, regardless of external expectations.

This resonates deeply with the African context, where labels often carry more weight than individual experiences. The film’s portrayal of the ballroom scene highlights the importance of creating safe spaces within communities. However, what does this mean for individuals? How do we protect and create such environments when the world outside seems increasingly hostile?

“My Father’s Kora” offers a rare glimpse into the complexities of African queer cinema, reflecting on identity, culture, and acceptance within traditionally conservative societies. This is not an easy or triumphant tale but a nuanced exploration of what it means to be human.

The world premiere at Locarno’s Open Doors section marks a significant moment in the film’s journey. As Aymar Esse invites viewers to see beyond labels and categories, we are reminded that even in the darkest times, there is always hope for acceptance and love.