{"id":246,"date":"2023-06-05T20:57:32","date_gmt":"2023-06-05T20:57:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/?p=246"},"modified":"2023-07-11T14:24:27","modified_gmt":"2023-07-11T14:24:27","slug":"a-feminist-rewriting-of-kleist-oziriand-nublings-die-verlobung-in-st-domingo-ein-widerspruch","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/a-feminist-rewriting-of-kleist-oziriand-nublings-die-verlobung-in-st-domingo-ein-widerspruch\/","title":{"rendered":"A Feminist Rewriting of Kleist? \u00d6ziri\u2019and N\u00fcbling\u2019s <em>Die Verlobung in St. Domingo \u2013 Ein Widerspruch<\/em>"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p><strong>Priscilla Layne<\/strong><a href=\"#end\" name=\"back\">*<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h5 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Abstract<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"abstract\">In his novella <font class=\"no-italics\">Die Verlobung in St. Domingo<\/font> (1811), Heinrich von Kleist depicted the Haitian revolution within a highly racialized framework of white innocence and Black vengeance. With his rewriting of this narrative in <font class=\"no-italics\">Die Verlobung in St. Domingo\u2014Ein Widerspruch<\/font> (2019), rather than condemning the Black people rebelling, Necati \u00d6ziri emphasizes the violence they are responding to. \u00d6ziri also shifts the play\u2019s focus from a tragic love affair to a mother-daughter relationship between. In this paper, I apply a feminist, postcolonial reading to \u00d6ziri\u2019s play, to explore all of the ways he is writing back against Kleist, including by embracing ambiguity.<br><br><strong>Keywords: <\/strong>Postcolonialism, Haitian revolution, violence, feminism, postmigrant, racism<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In his novella <em>Die Verlobung in St. Domingo<\/em> (<em>The Betrothal in St. Domingo<\/em>,1811), German Romantic author Heinrich von Kleist attempted to bring the Haitian Revolution to Europe\u2019s shores via literary representation. His protagonist, the Swiss character Gustav, is desperately trying to help himself and his family leave the island in the wake of the slave revolt. While on the run, Gustav seeks shelter at a home that is inhabited by the mixed-race woman Toni and her mother Babekan, who happens to be the romantic partner of Congo Huango, who is leading the rebellion and seeking revenge against the former slave masters. Babekan has been using Toni to lure white men to their deaths via a false sense of security. Until now, Toni has not questioned her mother\u2019s tactics. But she falls in love with Gustav and wants to save his life, so they can marry and live in Europe. Despite his strong feelings for Toni, Gustav is suspicious of her, because even with her very light complexion, he questions whether she can ever really be loyal to <em>him <\/em>and betray her Black brethren. Ultimately, his paranoia causes Gustav to shoot Toni to death, as he mistakes her attempt to save him as an attempt to deliver him to his potential executioners. Once Gustav realizes his mistake, he shoots himself as well, and when Gustav\u2019s uncle reaches Switzerland, he creates a memorial in their honor beneath a tree in his garden.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"400\" height=\"495\" src=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image1-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-247\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image1-1.jpg 400w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image1-1-242x300.jpg 242w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 400px) 100vw, 400px\" \/><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\"><em>Bildnis Heinrich von Kleist<\/em>, 1801, Zeichnung, Dresden, Sammlung Otto Krug. Public domain. Photo: Web\/Wikipedia<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p>On the one hand, Kleist\u2019s narrative interrogates the legacy of a French Revolution that declared liberty for some but not all. On the other hand, he posed his questions within a highly racialized framework, where those who are dark-skinned are brutally violent, whites like the Gustav can see themselves as \u201cinnocent\u201d and biracial characters like Toni are doomed to a tragic life (and death) because they cannot fully be contained within racial categories. With what has been described as an <em>\u00dcberschreibung<\/em> (overwriting) of Kleist\u2019s narrative, in <em>Die Verlobung in St. Domingo \u2013 Ein Widerspruch <\/em>(<em>The Betrothal in St. Domingo\u2014A Contradiction<\/em>, 2019), Turkish German playwright Necati \u00d6ziri interrogates Kleist by asking what the Blacks\u2019 perspective might have been. \u00d6ziri uses the style and themes of postmigrant theatre to liberate Kleist\u2019s Black characters from his white supremacist racial framework.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>By writing from this perspective, rather than condemning the Black people who rebel, \u00d6ziri emphasizes what they are <em>responding <\/em>to, which includes the violent <em>potential <\/em>of whites. As Simone De Beauvoir argues, \u201cthe oppressed has only one solution: to deny the harmony of that mankind from which an attempt is made to exclude him, to prove that he is a man and that he is free by revolting against the tyrants\u201d (89). Furthermore, \u00d6ziri shifts the play\u2019s focus from the tragic love story between Toni and Gustav to the mother-daughter relationship between Babekan and Toni. In Kleist, ambiguity and uncertainty are dangerous, best represented by Toni, which is why she must die.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In this paper, I will apply a feminist, postcolonial reading to \u00d6ziri\u2019s play to explore all of the ways he is writing back against Kleist, including by embracing ambiguity. By drawing on Simone De Beauvoir\u2019s understanding of the ethics of ambiguity, I will discuss why \u00d6ziri\u2019s play is useful for exploring questions around agency, violence and feminism in representations of revolutionary violence. In my analysis, I will sometimes differentiate between \u00d6ziri\u2019s text and Sebastian N\u00fcbling\u2019s staging because they occupy different positionalities and I cannot always be certain whether choices made for the performance were influenced by \u00d6ziri or whether they are due to N\u00fcbling\u2019s interpretation of \u00d6ziri\u2019s text.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h5 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Resisting Realism<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n<p>The performance I will analyze was filmed at the Maxim Gorki theatre in Berlin. The Gorki features a racially and ethnically diverse ensemble cast that includes both native speakers and non-native speakers of German; thus, staging the play there allowed director N\u00fcbling to practice a kind of blind casting\u2014actors aren\u2019t assigned roles because of physical similarity to characters and because the ensemble is so diverse, this allows for actors of Color to play roles that traditionally had only been played by white actors. N\u00fcbling utilizes this diverse cast to challenge Western views of the Haitian revolution, inject \u00d6ziri\u2019s narrative with African diasporic aesthetics and redefine the importance of \u201cambiguity\u201d for Kleist\u2019s narrative.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>One of the most important strategies N\u00fcbling uses to decenter a single, dominant and white perspective of the Haitian revolution is to, instead, allow for several different characters to narrate what is happening. Furthermore, the character of Toni is played by two actresses, who, at first, are clearly identified because of the different colored clothing: one (Kenda Hmeidan) starts in an orange velour, short-sleeved romper, with the sleeves cut at an angle; the other (played by \u00c7i\u011fdem Teke) wears a buttoned-down shirt and pants in different green shades.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Typical of postmigrant theatre, there are several moments in the play when the actors break the fourth wall and blur the lines between the reality of the play and real life. This helps emphasize that the themes presented in the play\u2014racism, freedom, exploitation\u2014are not just bygone political issues but are still relevant. And the audience is meant to critically reflect on what they are seeing, hopefully being motivated to make changes in their own lives, not just rethink their understanding of this history. For example, \u00d6ziri purposefully uses ambiguous language to make it difficult for us to immediately identify the time of the setting. Are we in the here and now or in eighteenth-century Haiti? After taking the stage in her orange velour costume, Toni describes a political time of revolution and political change:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>Die Gesellschaften um uns herum ver\u00e4ndern sich, \u00fcberall, in Europa und auch hier. Der Hass organisiert sich. Das Vertrauen in die politischen Entscheidungstr\u00e4ger schwindet. Alle sehnen sich nach Vers\u00f6hnung, nach Alltag und Normalit\u00e4t, nach einer Vision f\u00fcr dieses noch junge Jahrhundert. Alle wollen Wissen: Was kommt nach dem Protest?<\/p>\n<cite>\u00d6ziri 3<a href=\"#end1\" name=\"back1\"><sup>[1]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>There is a reason why these remarks resonate with both our present and the Haitian and French Revolutions. In all three contexts, political unrest was on the horizon because the people lacking power no longer trusted in their rulers and they questioned whether they simply had to accept the world as it was or could possibly <em>change <\/em>the world to reflect what they desired. It is this equivalence between the Haitian and the French Revolutions that Haitian leaders tried to underscore in order to stress that while the French argued for liberty for all, they conveniently forgot the enslaved in their colonies. Thus, the Haitian Revolution was merely a case of enslaved people demanding the same rights and respect that allegedly counted for all human beings. In fact, this rhetoric around who counts as human is what helps us locate \u00d6ziri\u2019s text in the past. Reflecting on who does and doesn\u2019t count as <em>human <\/em>is a task attributed to Br\u00e9da, a character whom \u00d6ziri has modeled on revolutionary Haitian General Fran\u00e7ois Dominique Toussaint (1743\u20131803). When the actor who plays Br\u00e9da (Falilou Seck) first takes the stage, he states, \u201cich stehe hier auch und vor allem, weil es mir als der Mensch, der ich geworden bin, pers\u00f6nlich wichtig ist\u201d (3).<a href=\"#end2\" name=\"back2\"><sup>[2]<\/sup><\/a> Thus, he is aware that he did not always count as \u201chuman,\u201d and importantly for him, becoming human is tied to a desire to liberate <em>all<\/em> not just a select few, as was the case of the European bourgeois revolutions.<a href=\"#end3\" name=\"back3\"><sup>[3]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Br\u00e9da\u2019s prologue, with which \u00d6ziri begins his play, is his first drastic departure from Kleist\u2019s text. A typical realist novella, Kleist\u2019s <em>Verlobung <\/em>begins with an omniscient narrator informing us of the setting of the conflict. What stands out about Kleist\u2019s narrator is that he is decidedly <em>un<\/em>sympathetic to the enslaved Black people on the island. He states: \u201cZu Port au Prince, auf dem franz\u00f6sischen Anteil der Insel St.&nbsp;Domingo, lebte, zu Anfange dieses Jahrhunderts, als die Schwarzen die Wei\u00dfen ermordeten, auf der Pflanzung des Herrn Guillaume von Villeneuve, ein f\u00fcrchterlicher alter N****, namens Congo Hoango\u201d (Projekt Gutenberg).<a name=\"back4\" href=\"#end4\"><sup>[4]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Die Verlobung in St. Domingo - Ein Widerspruch | Trailer (Maxim Gorki Theater)\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/OUOshE3dIog?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Trailer.<em> Die Verlobung in St. Domingo \u2013 Ein Widerspruch <\/em>(<em>The Betrothal in St. Domingo\u2014A Contradiction<\/em>. Gorki Theatre, 2019)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>At the beginning of \u00d6ziri\u2019s play, not only does he allow the character Br\u00e9da to speak in the script, but rather than having Seck, who consistently plays Br\u00e9da throughout the play, speak the script\u2019s first monologue, N\u00fcbling has Hmeidan perform this monologue in her bright-orange clothing. This sets up a common technique, having multiple actors speak for one character or doubling characters, with either two actors performing the same part on stage or doubling a character using a live actor on stage and a pre-recorded shadow of the actor projected onto a screen. These directorial decisions echo \u00d6ziri\u2019s script because they propose that characters may have competing motivations and intentions, and they challenge any presumption that a social or political group, like the revolting formerly enslaved, is monolithic. Instead, a constant theme throughout the play is that while individual characters may disagree or act according to differing principles, they must find unity in order to successfully fight against white supremacy. This understanding of the struggle <em>within <\/em>a movement for freedom is part of why de Beauvoir embraces ambiguity. In <em>The Ethics of Ambiguity<\/em>, she states it is not uncommon for a revolutionary to face uncertainty and \u201cthis uncertainty should not keep him from pursuing his goals; but it requires that one concern oneself with finding a balance between the goal and its means\u201d (159\u201360). And arguably, \u00d6ziri and N\u00fcbling convey this ethics of ambiguity by presenting us with multiple characters who may be on the same side of the revolution, but who may not always agree with each other on how to act.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>At the start of the play, Toni\/Br\u00e9da (played by Hmeidan) identifies themselves as \u201coberste Befehlshaber des Generals der Revolutionsarmee\u201d (\u201csupreme commander of the general of the revolutionary army\u201d), a reference to Toussaint, and their location as Fort Dauphin, which was the site of several battles: first, between the French and the Spanish; then, between the French and the British, during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries (Coupeau 16\u201327). Toni\/Br\u00e9da\u2019s announcement declaring their newly won freedom works both as a critique of white liberals during the eighteenth century, who denied Blacks their freedom, and as a critique of the mostly white, bourgeois audience of German theatregoers, who have been socialized according to this liberal tradition. Toni\/Br\u00e9da states:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>Ich wei\u00df es ganz besonders zu sch\u00e4tzen, dass auch einige ehemalige Kolonialherren und Plantagenbesitzer hier sind. Ich wei\u00df, dass viele unter Ihnen den Kampf der <em>Schwarzen <\/em>f\u00fcr die Freiheit und die Unabh\u00e4ngigkeit insgeheim oder \u00f6ffentlich unterst\u00fctzt haben, dass viele der <em>wei\u00dfen<\/em> ihre Sklaven so gut behandelt haben, wie es ihrer Ansicht nach ging, dass viele von ihnen gl\u00fchende Anh\u00e4nger der Republik oder sogar Mitglied der Pariser \u201cFreunde der <em>Schwarzen<\/em>\u201d sind und dass viele die Ideale der Revolution \u2013 hier wie auch in Frankreich \u2013 h\u00f6her als ihr eigenes Leben stellen, allen voran die Gleichheit und Freiheit aller Menschen.<\/p>\n<cite>4<a href=\"#end5\" name=\"back5\"><sup>[5]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>Thus, Toni\/Br\u00e9da appeals to the whites\u2019 morality, while acknowledging their fears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>One of the characters utmost demonized in Kleist\u2019s text is Congo Huango, one of the Black leaders of the revolt, and arguably based on Toussaint. Toussaint was the son of a \u201cchieftain in Africa, [who] was captured in war, sold as a slave and made the journey [to Haiti] in a slave-ship\u201d (James 19). What made the historical Toussaint\u2019s experience different from most enslaved Black people in Haiti was that his father was bought by a colonist who recognized he was educated and \u201callowed him a certain liberty on the plantation and the use of five slaves to cultivate a plot of land. He became a Catholic, married a woman\u201d and had eight children, Toussaint being the eldest (19). By creating the figure Congo Huango, instead of utilizing Toussaint, Kleist has free reign over the character, allowing the author to turn him into a reservoir for all of white people\u2019s fears about Black men. We hear very little from Congo Huango, only that he owns the house in which Toni and Babekan reside and that Toni is used to lure whites to reside there so that Congo Huango can seek revenge against them when he arrives. For most of the narrative, Congo Huango isn\u2019t actually present; he only appears towards the end of the novella. However, he is described early on as someone who \u201cam hellen Tage die in ihren Niederlassungen verschanzten Pflanzer selbst an[fiel], und lie\u00df alles, was er darin vorfand, \u00fcber die Klinge springen. Ja, er forderte, in seiner unmenschlichen Rachsucht\u201d (Gutenberg).<a href=\"#end6\" name=\"back6\"><sup>[6]<\/sup><\/a> We never hear motivations for his actions. On the contrary, this prologue only outlines what the enslaved Black Haitians sought from their revolt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In contrast to Kleist, \u00d6ziri is clearly giving us a point of view from the subaltern. One indication of that is his use of the term <em>Schwarz <\/em>(Black). In the prologue, Toni\/Br\u00e9da states, \u201cdie Zukunft und der Ausweg aus diesen unruhigen Zeiten [stellt] ein <em>Schwarzes <\/em>Loch im Universum [dar]\u201d (3). Translated into English, this statement would simply read \u201cthe future and the way out of these troubled times represents a black hole in the universe.\u201d Typically, one would understand this to mean that because we don\u2019t know <em>how <\/em>we will get out of these troubled times, the way is unknown to us, and that is why it is represented by a black hole. However, if one looks more carefully at the German text, \u00d6ziri capitalizes Black, a reference to its meaning as a political identification for Black people. Thus, what this character is also saying is 1) that Black people hold the key to escaping these troubling times and 2) Black people are associated with the future and the unknown in a positive manner. Thus, part of why \u00d6ziri\u2019s intervention is so important is he is creating a positive representation of Black people, depicting them as political agents of change and agents of the future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In a later scene, Toni (played by Teke) specifically calls out the importance of representation by stating:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>Nat\u00fcrlich ist dieser Krieg, wie jeder Krieg, auch ein Krieg um Worte, und nat\u00fcrlich k\u00f6nnte man anstatt \u2018ermordeten\u2019 auch sagen:<br>\u2018als die <em>Schwarzen <\/em>die<em> wei\u00dfen <\/em>t\u00f6teten\u2019<br>oder<br>\u2018als die versklavte Bev\u00f6lkerung sich ihrer Ketten entriss\u2018<br>oder<br>\u2018als die noch schlafende Menschheit endlich erwachte.\u2019<br>Ich habe aber nichts \u00fcbrig f\u00fcr Revolutionsromantik.<\/p>\n<cite>9<a href=\"#end7\" name=\"back7\"><sup>[7]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>With these lines, Toni explicitly refers again to the very first sentence of Kleist\u2019s novella. Kleist\u2019s beginning clearly aligns his narrator with the whites who, regardless of their brutal behavior in the past, do not deserve to be \u201cmurdered\u201d by Blacks. Toni calls this thinking into question, asking us to consider if, in fact, <em>any<\/em> means are necessary when people are fighting for their liberation. And such thinking aligns Toni with the kind of ethically ambiguous subject whom de Beauvoir lauds. As de Beauvoir stresses, we must \u201cchallenge every condemnation as well as every <em>a prion <\/em>justification of the violence practiced with a view to a valid end\u201d (160). This does not mean that every act of violence in the name of the revolution is justified; but it is the process of <em>questioning <\/em>these acts of violence that separate the \u201cman of good\u201d from the tyrant (144).<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As \u00d6ziri is not concerned with maintaining a separate world between the stage and the audience, he utilizes several alienation techniques and even \u201crealization techniques,\u201d which include letting the actors\u2019 real selves occasionally blend with the role, something that has been common in postmigrant theatre. For example, the person who plays Babekan is Afro-Palestinian actress Maryam Abu Khaled, a regular member of the Gorki ensemble. As Babekan, Khaled occasionally speaks Arabic and English, and this is not to allege that Babekan would have known these languages, but rather it is a strategy of resisting realism, which allows Khaled\u2019s Black diasporic identities and her experience with anti-Black racism in Europe <em>and <\/em>the Middle East, to blend with Babekan\u2019s experiences.<a name=\"back8\" href=\"#end8\"><sup>[8]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h5 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Diasporic Aesthetics<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n<p>The first visible example of N\u00fcbling\u2019s incorporation of African diasporic culture is in the form of the carnival. The performance begins with Hmeidan taking the stage in orange, wearing what appears to be a festive outfit reminiscent of a Caribbean carnival. In addition to her orange romper, she also wears an orange belt with gold fixtures around her waist. And the centerpiece of her outfit is a headdress with large elaborate feathers in orange and pink tones.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"800\" height=\"449\" src=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image2-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-248\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image2-2.jpg 800w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image2-2-300x168.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image2-2-768x431.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\" \/><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Fig. 1. Hmeidan as Br\u00e9da\/Toni reciting the opening monologue<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p>Her outfit is made complete with gold, glittery makeup around her eyes and goal jewelry (figure 1). This outfit is reminiscent of something one would find during carnival, in Brazil, Trinidad and Tobago, and other Caribbean islands formerly colonized by Catholic, European powers. It also recalls the popular jazz revue performances during the 1920s. The American jazz culture that conquered Europe was influenced by Caribbean culture in sound and dress (Putnam). Thus, N\u00fcbling\u2019s choice of costume creates a constellation between the Caribbean carnival and European colonial metropolises. Carnival culture was born from blending African and European elements, and it emerged from resistance, from:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>the Yoruba people [who] were taken from Nigeria and the last to arrive on the islands.&nbsp;Their strong culture dominated the Caribbean Africans, and they were able to practice their religion by pretending they were praying to Catholic saints. This allowed their culture to continue despite oppression: this new culture combined European practices with West African traditions.<\/p>\n<cite>History of the Caribbean Carnival<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>This carnival reference is reinforced by the actress\u2019s movements; she occasionally sways with her arms, dancing to the play\u2019s motif played on keyboard that accompanies most of the action on stage. After taking the stage, she positions herself center stage, facing the audience, with a screen illuminated orange behind her in orange and proceeds to thank them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The carnival theme is further reinforced during Toni\/Br\u00e9da\u2019s monologue. When Toni\/Br\u00e9da declares \u201cthe future and the way out of these troubled times represents a black hole in the universe,\u201d after framing the actress in a full shot, the camera then zooms out to reveal (figure 2) that four additional people have taken the stage, stage left, and are standing in the shadows at the same depth as between the orange screen and Toni\/Br\u00e9da. <\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"800\" height=\"449\" src=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image3-4.jpeg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-249\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image3-4.jpeg 800w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image3-4-300x168.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image3-4-768x431.jpeg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\" \/><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Fig. 2. Four dancers join Toni\/Br\u00e9da stage left<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p>They are arranged in a distinct pattern\u2014one person, Maryam Abu Khaled (who plays Babekan), in front, followed by two people flanking her slightly behind (\u00c7igdem Teke and Falilou Seck), and a fourth person, Dominic Hartmann (Gustav), positioned further back, between the previous two. One could describe their moves as \u201cacting in concert,\u201d a phrase that Michael Dowdy takes from Hannah Arendt to describe how music performances can be \u201cinteractive spaces of collective identity and coordinated political practice\u201d (75). These four shimmy and dance stage left, approaching the front of the stage. The appearance of these four additional characters\/dancers perhaps makes an argument about Black futurity and collectivity. Are they the unknown future that will take us out of these troubling times, which Toni\/Br\u00e9da has just announced? It is significant that they are all dressed uniquely: Babekan wears a blue, feathered jacket, gray tight-fitting pants and a blue velour skirt; while Br\u00e9da, to her left behind her, wears tall black boots, gold and black pants and a two-toned shirt (gold in back and black in front) with gold shimmery tassels hanging down from his neck; the dancer to Babekan\u2019s right, Teke as Toni, is dressed in all green; and the dancer in the back, Gustav, wears a floor-length, red, glittery dress. Since we don\u2019t yet know their individual characters, or that Hartmann will be Gustav, the group appears only as a collective. And yet, the lack of uniformity among these dancers, in their clothing, racial\/ethnic and gender identities, conveys a sense of diversity among the subaltern and a willingness to embrace difference. When Toni\/Br\u00e9da announces they are crafting \u201ceine Vision f\u00fcr eine Gemeinschaft . . . , die das Vergangene und die Gegenwart hinter sich l\u00e4sst\u201d<a href=\"#end9\" name=\"back9\"><sup>[9]<\/sup><\/a> (3), the dancers join her, slightly behind, but still stage left. They only stop dancing when she states the bitter truth that whites on the island didn\u2019t want to hear: \u201cHier habt ihr im Garten gesessen und euren Kaffee mit ein paar L\u00f6ffeln Zucker getrunken . . . Aber hinter jedem Stuhl an dieser Tafel stand den ganzen Abend ein anderer Mensch, der euch nachschenken musste, ohne zu fragen\u201d (4).<a href=\"#end10\" name=\"back10\"><sup>[10]<\/sup><\/a> With this statement, the dancers stand still, with their backs facing the audience, and they look over their right shoulders as if their gaze represents all the enslaved Blacks not allowed the opportunity to return whites\u2019 gazes. The speaker continues, that was the time before the war, and now things are different. With this declaration, the dancers resume their movements and now slowly back away, leaving the stage just as they once came. They return, however, when the speaker declares, \u201cAb morgen wird die Zeit des Friedens anbrechen. Dieses Land ist schon bald die erste befreite Kolonie, der erste unabh\u00e4ngige Staat, der sich aus eigener Kraft vom Joch der Sklaverei befreit hat. Morgen wird gefeiert\u201d (4).<a href=\"#end11\" name=\"back11\"><sup>[11]<\/sup><\/a> When she repeats the last line, \u201cMorgen wird gefeiert,\u201d<a href=\"#end12\" name=\"back12\"><sup>[12]<\/sup><\/a> two of the dancers (Teke as Toni and Seck as Br\u00e9da) walk stage right and sit down at two keyboards playing electronic music. Meanwhile, Babekan takes center stage and Toni\/Br\u00e9da leaves. Rather than using numbers to indicate a change in scene, as Babekan takes the stage dressed in blue, the screen behind her shifts colors from orange to blue until the screen is entirely blue, indicating the arrival of a new age. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A third diasporic aesthetic incorporated in the play is N\u00fcbling\u2019s subversive use of silhouettes. Once Toni\/Br\u00e9da has finished the prologue and the play shifts to the main narrative\u2014Gustav\u2019s arrival on Toni and Babekan\u2019s doorstep\u2014in order to introduce this new phase of the play, the lights are turned off, the screen is illuminated white and figures and props appear on the other side as silhouettes. The first character to appear is Babekan, represented by a woman, wearing a long dress with her hair tied up in a bun. She sits at a table with two coffee cups. Because she is sitting on the other side of the screen, she appears as a silhouette, invoking the practice of silhouette profiles, an artform originating in the eighteenth century, which became a popular way for loved ones among middle-class families to be remembered, prior to the emergence of photography. But these silhouettes were limited to the intimate circle of white families and not the enslaved Black people who served them. This practice of making silhouettes has since been famously reappropriated by African American visual artist Kara Walker. In her silhouettes, Walker has racialized Black figures appear in places one might not expect them, sometimes appearing grotesque and threatening. They reflect a darker side of American history that is otherwise unspoken. Thus, by incorporating the aesthetic of the silhouette in his staging, N\u00fcbling suggests that in this <em>Critique<\/em>, we will get a perspective that was lacking in Kleist\u2019s novella. Furthermore, his use of these silhouettes may also draw on the Turkish shadow play, itself a mode of political critique. Shadow plays (Karag\u00f6z) were frequently used \u201cas a vehicle for political comment, even as <em>agit-prop<\/em>\u201d (And 75). In this way, N\u00fcbling allows African diasporic and Turkish diasporic artwork to \u201ctouch tales,\u201d a phrase Leslie Adelson uses to describe texts that defy categorization because they address transnational histories, languages and media in unpredictable ways.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The final way N\u00fcbling uses Black diasporic aesthetics as a part of \u00d6ziri\u2019s critique of Kleist is at the very end of the play when in the darkened theatre, the actors disappear behind illuminated, grotesque masks\u2014reminiscent of African mask culture (figure 3).<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" src=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image4-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-250\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image4-1.jpg 800w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image4-1-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image4-1-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\" \/><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Fig. 3. The illuminated masks worn by the actors at the end of the play<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p>In the darkness, they announce the play\u2019s title and director, followed by cackling laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h5 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Centering the Narrative on Black Women<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n<p>A core conflict in Kleist\u2019s <em>Betrothal <\/em>is Toni\u2019s racial identity and her alleged conflicted loyalties. Toni is described as a \u201cquadroon\u201d: the daughter of a biracial woman (Babekan) and a white Frenchman, with whom Babekan had an affair in Paris.<a href=\"#end13\" name=\"back13\"><sup>[13]<\/sup><\/a> Toni is depicted as the quintessential \u201ctragic mulatto\u201d type. Her complexion is light enough that she could pass as white, and we are to believe that it is this whiteness that lures Gustav to trust her and causes him to fall in love with her, as he sees his deceased white fianc\u00e9 reflected in her disposition. Thus, on the one hand, Toni is tempted by the prospect of living life as a white woman: escaping the island with Gustav, marrying him and living free in Europe. On the other hand, she has responsibilities to her mother and stepfather (Congo Huango), who believe her Black identity should make her an ally in their fight against their former white masters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In N\u00fcbling\u2019s staging, Toni\u2019s warring identities and desires are realized by two actresses playing Toni; this decision also helps stress her duplicitous nature according to Kleist\u2019s depiction. When we are first introduced to Toni following the opening monologue, she is played by \u00c7i\u01e7dem Teke. Dressed in green pants and button-down shirt, this Toni appears androgynous, a choice that counteracts Kleist\u2019s hypersexualization of Toni as the \u201ctragic mulatto.\u201d Once Gustav enters the house, Toni (Teke) exchanges roles with the other Toni (Hmeidan), who has now put on an orange, quite feminine dress to play the role of the one used to lure white men to their deaths. Throughout \u00d6ziri\u2019s script, Toni also verbalizes the struggle within her. In Kleist\u2019s story, we are led to believe that Toni ultimately chooses whiteness. She betrays her mother and Congo Hoango by siding with Gustav and, at one point, declaring: \u201cich bin eine Wei\u00dfe, und dem J\u00fcngling, den ihr gefangen haltet, verlobt\u201d (\u201cI am a white girl and betrothed to this young man who you are holding prisoner\u201d) (Kleist 264). She ultimately dies, because, as a \u201ctragic mulatto,\u201d her biracial identity can find no home in a world ruled by racial categories. Gustav falsely believes she has betrayed him and shoots her dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00d6ziri shifts the narrative\u2019s focus <em>away <\/em>from romantic relationships and, instead, emphasizes the kinship between Toni and her mother. It is Toni who introduces us to Babekan. While we see Babekan\u2019s silhouette on the screen, sitting at a table with two coffee cups, Toni dressed all in green sits at a keyboard, stage right, and facing the audience. Toni states while gesturing to the silhouette behind her:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>Das: ist meine Mama. Und mich interessiert:<br>Warum<br>sitzt diese Frau<br>mitten in dieser Nacht<br>alleine im Dunkeln<br>vor zwei Tassen Kaffee?<br>Vielleicht<br>tut sie, was sich auch f\u00fcr eine Revolution\u00e4rin geh\u00f6rt am angeblich letzten Abend der Revolution: Sie kann nicht schlafen.<a href=\"#end14\" name=\"back14\"><sup>[14]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>With that, Toni emphasizes not only that women are revolutionaries too, but that women\u2019s revolutionary work sometimes looks differently than what we expect from men. While Br\u00e9da is out fighting, Babekan is taking care of things at home, but her domestic labor still supports his political goals. But there was also a time when Babekan committed acts of violence as well. Toni informs us how she can see visions of her mother: \u201cmeine Mutter, wie sie dem alten Villeneuve nachts mit einer Nagelschere die Halsschlagadern nachzeichnet und sich dann der Revolution anschlie\u00dft\u201d (23).<a href=\"#end15\" name=\"back15\"><sup>[15]<\/sup><\/a> By highlighting both that Babekan is capable of violent acts <em>and <\/em>that these violent acts are justified because she is fighting for her freedom, \u00d6ziri gives the Black characters the humanity which Kleist denied them. The white abolitionists of Kleist\u2019s day may have insisted that Blacks were human beings and that they shouldn\u2019t be enslaved, but they rarely saw Black people as being equal to whites (Archer-Straw 28). And they tended to imagine a Black subject who would merely be grateful for freedom and not seek vengeance for their enslavement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Thus, fully acknowledging a Black person\u2019s humanity also means accepting that they might respond to past violence with violence of their own. As James Baldwin writes in <em>The Fire Next Time<\/em>, if vengeance is inevitable, it would be because of \u201cthe intransigence and ignorance of the white world\u201d (105). Furthermore, it is a \u201cvengeance that does not really depend on, and cannot really be executed by, any person or organization, and that cannot be prevented by any police for or army,\u201d for it is a \u201chistorical vengeance, a cosmic vengeance, based on the law that we recognize when we say, \u2018Whatever goes up must come down\u2019\u201d (105). Frantz Fanon made similar points about decolonization and the inevitability of violence in <em>The Wretched of the Earth<\/em>: \u201cThe muscles of the colonized are always tensed. It is not that he is anxious or terrorized, but he is always ready to change his role as game for that of hunter. The colonized subject is a persecuted man who is forever dreaming of becoming the persecutor\u201d (16).<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Not only does \u00d6ziri emphasize that Babekan is a political subject, but he also gives her a more elaborate backstory than she is allowed in Kleist\u2019s narrative. As I mentioned before, in Kleist\u2019s <em>Betrothal<\/em> all we know about Babekan is that she is biracial and she had an affair with a Frenchman, who then refused to acknowledge Toni as his daughter. It is not explicitly stated that he is white, but this can be assumed as Kleist used racialized language to explicitly describe any non-white characters. Thus, Babekan is presented as a scorned lover, who, like her daughter, fell victim to the racial categories of the day. In \u00d6ziri\u2019s play, however, Babekan reveals an entirely different backstory. And this story of Toni\u2019s conception becomes a key reason why mother and daughter have such a different relationship with violence. In Kleist\u2019s narrative, the narrator offers no reason for why Babekan is more violent and vengeful than her daughter. One is left to draw the conclusion that, based on racist understandings of the time, Babekan is Blacker than her daughter and, therefore, more brutal and hateful towards whites. Babekan has no qualms about delivering Gustav to Congo Huango to be killed, while her daughter who has a more beautiful \u201cwhite soul,\u201d is conflicted over their deception (K\u00f6hler 40).<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In \u00d6ziri\u2019s play, we learn that what has contributed to Babekan\u2019s willingness to fight is that, like many enslaved Black women of this time, she was a victim of sexual assault\u2014raped by Toni\u2019s father. This is why, according to Babekan, fleeing the revolutionary violence for Paris is not the answer to their dilemma. It was in Paris, after all, that Toni\u2019s father forced himself on her. And when she went before the court to plead her case, they didn\u2019t believe her:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>Und weiter im Gerichtssaal: der Schwei\u00df auf der rosa Schweinefresse des Richters, die gl\u00fcht vor Hitze, der ich alles im Detail erz\u00e4hlen muss, wieder und wieder ,ja, ich war freiwillig in dem Haus, aber das wollte ich trotzdem nicht\u2019 Der Schwei\u00df in den Handinnenfl\u00e4chen deines Vaters, der unter Eid schw\u00f6rt, dass du sein Kind nicht sein kannst, der Schwei\u00df auf der Stirn vom Villeneuve, als er fertig ist mit 60 Peitschen f\u00fcr meine Falschaussage.<\/p>\n<cite>39<a href=\"#end16\" name=\"back16\"><sup>[16]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>Babekan tells Toni this story, in part, to explain the trauma that forces her to sit up every night. It is this trauma that makes her want to fight back against oppression, sexism <em>and <\/em>racism. She also tells this story and emphasizes to Toni that her father was Black and <em>not <\/em>white, to acknowledge that the sexist violence of white supremacy can come from anyone who is a part of the system. But Babekan does not want revenge against her rapist. Instead, she focuses her anger against the racist and sexist system that enabled his behavior, represented by the white judge. She states:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>Es stimmt. Manchmal h\u00f6r ich ihn, nachts, wenn ich schlafe, seine endlosen Reden, aus allen W\u00e4nden, sein Kaffeegeruch \u00fcberall. Und dann stehe ich auf, gehe in die K\u00fcche und mache zwei Tassen Kaffee, beide mit viel Zucker, beide f\u00fcr mich\u2026 Es geht nicht um deinen Vater. Es geht um den Richter. Mit jedem weiteren Mann t\u00f6te ich jemanden, der \u00fcber mich urteilen will. Und \u00fcber dich, Toni. F\u00fcr dich, Toni. Damit du heute auf deine Privilegien reinfallen kannst. Damit du morgen die Freiheit hast, mich zu verurteilen.<\/p>\n<cite>41<a href=\"#end17\" name=\"back17\"><sup>[17]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>With her final remark, Babekan invokes the ambiguity of violence by acknowledging that the methods she has chosen to work towards freedom maybe be justified for her, but Toni may not agree. As de Beauvoir proclaimed, the ability to constantly question what actions are justified is what separates the oppressed from the oppressors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h5 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Critical Whiteness<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n<p>As opposed to the \u201cneutral\u201d white man, Gustav is a much more threatening figure in \u00d6ziri\u2019s play. In Kleist\u2019s narrative, Gustav is portrayed as an innocent man caught up in the conflict. He is neither guilty of abusing slaves, nor is he guilty of fighting for the French. He is simply trying to help his family\u2014his aunt, uncle and cousins\u2014reach the safety of a ship so that they can leave the island. In Kleist\u2019s <em>Betrothal<\/em>, Gustav is depicted as being on the defensive from the very beginning. When he reaches Babekan and Toni\u2019s residence, he cannot see clearly who is at the door. And in a war between racialized groups <em>seeing <\/em>race correctly can mean the difference between life or death. In \u00d6ziri\u2019s play, however, Gustav is immediately marked as the dangerous party.When he first arrives at their house, he is brandishing a weapon with which he threatens Toni. He continues to threaten Toni and her mother with it, even after they\u2019ve let him inside the house. When we get a close-up of Babekan and Gustav on either side of the door, we see right away that he has a gun and he is threatening Babekan with it, even if he isn\u2019t saying that. In his words we just hear about the women and children who will starve if they don\u2019t get help. This shows Gustav\u2019s duplicity, further stressed by how Toni occasionally calls him \u201cHeinrich,\u201d a remark that invokes Kleist and suggests that Gustav\u2019s words stem from Kleist\u2019s white colonial fantasy. Thus, while Kleist\u2019s text focused on Toni\u2019s potential duplicity, \u00d6ziri\u2019s calls out Gustav for being duplicitous <em>and <\/em>makes a joke about the interchangeability of white men.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>This makes the violent behavior of the whites more explicit. Thus, we can conclude that the Blacks\u2019 violence is in response to the violent actions of the whites. When Babekan first notices Gustav outside, she tells Toni:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>BABEKAN Jemand steht vor der T\u00fcr.<br>TONI Ein Mann?<br>BABEKAN Ein <em>wei\u00dfer<\/em>.<br>TONI Ganz wei\u00df?<br>BABEKAN Ich wei\u00df nicht.&nbsp;<br>TONI Alleine?<br>BABEKAN Ein wei\u00dfer kommt nie alleine.<\/p>\n<cite>11\u201312<a href=\"#end18\" name=\"back18\"><sup>[18]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>This excerpt reveals several important considerations for understanding how race functions in the setting and in the play. First, for Babekan, from a Black woman\u2019s perspective, a man is a <em>Black <\/em>man. White men are not \u201cuniversal\u201d in this world, from the perspective of Black people; thus; Babekan explicitly states that Gustav is white. Sharon Dodua Otoo has previously remarked that in German literature, historically, white characters have been unmarked as their presence is accepted as a given, as normal (Otoo 81\u201382). Therefore, in contrast, the presence of a Black person or any Person of Color is seen as remarkable and possibly abnormal. By always commenting on a character\u2019s whiteness, \u00d6ziri like Otoo decenters white experience and, by contrast, makes Black characters and People of Color the norm, therefore reimagining a future Germany in which whiteness is no longer seen as the standard. Secondly, whiteness, just like Blackness, exists on a spectrum. As race is a social construct, there are many shades between <em>ganz wei\u00df<\/em> (completely white) and non-white; thus, it is not always easy to discern a person\u2019s race. And finally, Babekan\u2019s comment that \u201cWhite men never come alone\u201d is a commentary about empire and colonial violence. Babekan also remarks about the hubris, on Gustav\u2019s part, to knock on a stranger\u2019s door and immediately expect to be helped. She states: \u201cWer mitten in dieser Nacht an eine fremde T\u00fcr klopft, hat ernste Probleme oder keine Manieren. Nat\u00fcrlich ist er wei\u00df\u201d (12).<a href=\"#end19\" name=\"back19\"><sup>[19]<\/sup><\/a> Thus, Babekan\u2019s statement names the audacity of Gustav\u2019s behavior and all the things he expects due to white privilege.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Part of how \u00d6ziri turns this into a feminist narrative is creating a stronger alliance between Toni and her mother. After Gustav arrives, they often respond to him in unison and the actresses mimic each other\u2019s gestures on stage, including in one scene where Babekan and Toni appear to act out a fantasy of stabbing Gustav to death (figure 4).<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"800\" height=\"449\" src=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image5-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-251\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image5-2.jpg 800w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image5-2-300x168.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image5-2-768x431.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\" \/><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Fig. 4. Toni and Babekan act out a fantasy of murdering Gustav<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p>Such behavior indicates the characters are unified against whites, including against Gustav. The fact that Gustav suggests it is dangerous for Toni and Babekan to be alone in the house during the uprising shows that his understanding of femininity is based on a white ideal, and he cannot see the political, revolutionary potential of these Black women.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Another important departure from Kleist is that instead of letting Gustav tell his story about how he is on the run with his Swiss family, Toni summarizes the details while he feigns speech in front of the screen. The effect is, once again, decentering whiteness and ridiculing parts of his story. Furthermore, when we get more detail about Gustav\u2019s past and what happened to his white fianc\u00e9\u2014details that are intended to create sympathy in Kleist\u2019s text\u2014the way this information is presented to us in \u00d6ziri\u2019s play eliminates any chance for sympathizing with Gustav. According to Kleist\u2019s text, Gustav\u2019s fianc\u00e9 was executed by his political rivals when they couldn\u2019t find him. But rather than Gustav admitting this to Toni himself, Gustav is hesitant to explain this, and Toni must actually feed him some of his lines in order to prompt him to speak. This performance conveys that Gustav is a coward, not just because he is apolitical and because he didn\u2019t intervene to save his fianc\u00e9\u2019s life, but also because he can\u2019t find the courage to admit these facts to Toni. While in the script the following text is only attributed to Gustav, during the performance one of the actresses playing Toni (played by Hmeidan in an orange dress and wearing a military jacket over it) has to \u201cfeed\u201d the underlined lines to him, to prompt him to speak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>Gustav Ich, betrunken in einer Kneipe in Paris. P\u00f6bele gegen die Revolution. Konnte nie was mit Politik. Irgendwer \u2013 wahrscheinlich der Barkeeper, wahrscheinlich f\u00fcllt er mich extra ab, wahrscheinlich geh\u00f6rt er selbst zum Terror-Tribunal \u2013 irgendwer verr\u00e4t mich. Am n\u00e4chsten Morgen: der Mob vor meiner T\u00fcr. Ich, versteckt in einem Keller von Freunden. Und weil sie mich nicht finden, wird sie [his fianc\u00e9] mitgenommen\u2026Mitgenommen und gefoltert und verh\u00f6rt und \u2013 . . .<\/p>\n<cite>29<a href=\"#end20\" name=\"back20\"><sup>[20]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>In another departure from Kleist, in \u00d6ziri\u2019s version, Toni wants to leave the island with Gustav, not in order to be <em>white<\/em>, but to escape the war and find safety. She states: \u201cIch werde dir und deiner Familie helfen\u2026Du bringst mich daf\u00fcr von dieser Insel . . . Du hast mir einen Heiratsantrag gemacht, und ich hab ja gesagt, weil: Wer will nicht in die Schweiz? Was denkst du, Heinrich?\u201d (30).<a href=\"#end21\" name=\"back21\"><sup>[21]<\/sup><\/a> Toni emphasizes the transactional nature of their relationship, dispelling the romance of Kleist\u2019s story: \u201cIch bin dein, du bist mein \u2013 Ticket\u201d (30).<a href=\"#end22\" name=\"back22\"><sup>[22]<\/sup><\/a> She also insists they take her mother as well, \u201cNehmen wir [sie] mit. Keine Sorge. Sobald wir auf dem Schiff sind, sehen wir uns nie wieder. Deal?\u201d (30).<a href=\"#end23\" name=\"back23\"><sup>[23]<\/sup><\/a> &nbsp;Thus, while Kleist\u2019s Toni was ready to betray her mother in order to be accepted as white, this version of the character would rather choose a life <em>with <\/em>her mother instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h5 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Conclusion<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n<p>In <em>Betrothal in St. Domingo<\/em>,Kleist attempts to balance his sympathy for enslaved Blacks who have been subjected to a racist system and his horror at the prospect of Black <em>revenge<\/em>. Several racial tropes of the day are present in the narrative, from the \u201ctragic mulatto\u201d Toni to the innocent whiteness of Gustav. In Kleist\u2019s narrative, empathy is only really possible for white characters. The formerly enslaved\u2014Congo Huango and Babekan\u2014seek to kill each white person they encounter. Meanwhile, because Gustav\u2019s uncle, Herr Str\u00f6mli, is capable of empathizing with Congo Huango as a father, he chooses <em>not <\/em>to kill the latter\u2019s sons, despite their involvement in luring whites into a violent trap. Meanwhile, Toni, as a \u201ctragic mulatto,\u201d is torn between the two sides. She has until now been allegiant to her Black relatives, but she yearns to be recognized as white and, towards the end of the narrative, attempts to switch sides to align herself with Gustav\u2019s family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00d6ziri\u2019s re-writing applies a feminist approach to the story that frees Toni of her desire for whiteness (and therefore, her desire for Gustav) and also refuses to pass moral judgment on the Blacks\u2019 violent struggle for liberation. Instead of empathy being a trait only accessible to whites, empathy is what allows the Black characters to unite. Meanwhile, white characters like Gustav are revealed to be incapable of truly empathizing with Blacks because of their sense of moral superiority. With this change, \u00d6ziri indicts the hypocritical morality of white abolitionists of the time, who may have condemned slavery but were incapable of recognizing the full humanity of Blacks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Proof of how \u00d6ziri liberates Toni from her \u201ctragic mulatto\u201d trope is the resolution of his versus Kleist\u2019s narrative. Kleist\u2019s narrative ends with Gustav\u2019s uncle, Herr Str\u00f6mli, escaping Haiti after Gustav has taken his own life once he realizes his mistake in shooting Toni. Once Herr Str\u00f6mli has returned to Switzerland, his act of thanks to Gustav and Toni for saving his life is to create a memorial in their honor: \u201cin der Gegend des Rigi, an; und noch im Jahr 1807 war unter den B\u00fcschen seines Gartens das Denkmal zu sehen, das er Gustav, seinem Vetter, und der Verlobten desselben, der treuen Toni, hatte setzen lassen.\u201d<a href=\"#end24\" name=\"back24\"><sup>[24]<\/sup><\/a> In contrast, in \u00d6ziri\u2019s play, we never find out what happens to Gustav. On multiple occasions, Toni outlines how things could go, depending on whether she chooses to betray Babekan and Br\u00e9da or not:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>TONI Und stopp. Sein Blick, mein Blick. Und Schuss. Br\u00e9da schie\u00dft mir zwischen die Augen. Okay, keine kluge L\u00f6sung. Also zur\u00fcck. Zur\u00fcck auf Anfang, zur\u00fcck zum Beginn dieses Jahrhunderts, zur\u00fcck nach Port-Au-Prince, zur\u00fcck zur Tochter einer ehemaligen Sklavin, die einen Ausweg aus der Geschichte sucht. Und dann: noch mal! Neue Variante: Diesmal sitzt Gustav hinter der T\u00fcr, geweckt, gewarnt und bewaffnet von mir. Und los! . . . Und wieder Schuss und meine Mutter daneben. Auch nicht besser. Und noch mal! Schnell! Zur\u00fcck auf Anfang. Und los! <\/p>\n<cite>44\u201345<a href=\"#end25\" name=\"back25\"><sup>[25]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>Frustrated, Toni cannot find an end to the narrative that allows her and her mother to live <em>and <\/em>allows them to use Gustav to escape the island. At one point, she seeks refuge in a cave, so as not to have to take part in the violence. But her alter-ego chastises her (visible in figure 5):<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>Du bist nicht die Erste, die sich in dieser H\u00f6hle verstecken will. Millionen waren schon vor dir hier. Alle hielten sich f\u00fcr die Ersten. Propheten, Erfinder, K\u00fcnstler, Revoluzzer. Sie wollen immer etwas Neues ins Leben dieses Planeten rufen. Aber sie sind nicht die Ersten. Sie sind blo\u00df Anf\u00e4nger. Blutige Anf\u00e4nger \u2013 von blutigen Anf\u00e4ngen.<br>In dieser H\u00f6hle landen sie irgendwann. Mit ihren Liedern oder ihren Fahnen oder ihrem<br>Gott oder ihren B\u00fcchern oder ihren Feinden. Aber immer: mit ihrer Angst. Irgendwer singt und t\u00f6tet da drau\u00dfen, irgendwer schreit und stirbt hier drin.<\/p>\n<cite>42<a href=\"#end26\" name=\"back26\"><sup>[26]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"800\" height=\"449\" src=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image6-1.jpeg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-252\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image6-1.jpeg 800w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image6-1-300x168.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image6-1-768x431.jpeg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\" \/><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Fig 5. Toni (Hmeidan) chastises Toni (Teke) for hiding in the cave when others are dying<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p>But we never get a definitive answer; we don\u2019t know what Toni chooses. Perhaps this is because she has an impossible choice: between flight from violence, which might mean death for Br\u00e9da or Babekan, or continuing to fight, which might mean her eventual death. Perhaps we can\u2019t know what Toni chooses, because as a subaltern character\u2014a formerly enslaved woman\u2014she doesn\u2019t really have much of a choice. And thus, the play instead ends with Br\u00e9da who addresses the audience:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<blockquote class=\"wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow\">\n<p>Wir wissen, wer du bist. Wir kennen dich.<br>Dein Name ist Angst. Dass wir euch antun, was ihr uns antut. Dass<br>wir nicht so anders sind, wie eure B\u00fccher behaupten. Tief in eurer<br>Brust sitzt die Angst vor euch selbst wie ein Brunnen. Und wie<br>Wasser findet sie ihren Weg, bis ihr darin ertrinkt.<br>Zwei Dinge waren wir f\u00fcr euch: gef\u00e4hrlich, aber unterlegen. Jetzt<br>nur noch eins: gef\u00e4hrlich. Ihr habt eine Spirale der Gewalt in Gang<br>gesetzt \u2013 nicht ich. Ich war nicht <em>Schwarz<\/em>, bevor ihr mich auf diese<br>Insel geschleppt habt. <em>wei\u00dfe<\/em> und andere \u2013 das war eure Erfindung,<br>und jetzt, da euch das Wasser bis zum Hals steht, wisst ihr nichts<br>mehr davon. Alt und dement. Die Anderen \u00fcberleben jetzt ihre<br>Erfinder.<\/p>\n<cite>48<a href=\"#end27\" name=\"back27\"><sup>[27]<\/sup><\/a><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n<p>What Br\u00e9da makes clear here is that the actions of the formerly enslaved are justified because they are fighting against an unjust system. This is about an institution, a structure. Not about individuals. Thus, it ultimately doesn\u2019t matter what happens to Gustav, or Toni or Babekan, because what matters is the collective. Which is perhaps why \u00d6ziri\u2019s play ends with that chorus of illuminated, grotesque masks, which in the darkness speak the desires of the enslaved into existence: seven articles dictating freedom and justice. Their final lines are \u201cDiese Verfassung ist nicht das Ergebnis einer h\u00f6heren Vernunft, auch nicht das Ergebnis unseres Kampfes, sie ist gar kein Ergebnis, h\u00f6chstens der Anfang\u201d (54).<a href=\"#end28\" name=\"back28\"><sup>[28]<\/sup><\/a> First of all, these words are an indictment of the project of European enlightenment: a project that was often only concerned with freedom for some. The Black rebels in Haiti don\u2019t need the acknowledgment of <em>reason <\/em>to justify their fight. They reject Humanism\u2019s rhetoric in favor of finding a language for freedom that includes all. Secondly, the final sentence is a gesture towards futurity with two implications. It acknowledges that Haiti\u2019s revolution, though necessary for the eventual abolishment of slavery worldwide, was still followed by centuries of unjust treatment at the hands of France and other Western powers that have kept the island impoverished ever since. It is, however, also an acknowledgement that each act of rebellion is necessary to achieve the ultimate goal of liberation for all. \u00d6ziri\u2019s rewriting of <em>Betrothal <\/em>ultimately gives us a chorus of different perspectives. Toni doesn\u2019t want to use violence, Babekan and Br\u00e9da see violence as a necessity, but ultimately the individuals don\u2019t matter, they dance in step together, acting in concert and that is necessary to bring about change.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator has-alpha-channel-opacity is-style-wide\"\/>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>Endnotes<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end1\" href=\"#back1\"><sup>[1]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cThe societies around us are changing, everywhere, in Europe and also here. Hatred organizes itself. Trust in political decision-makers is waning. Everyone longs for reconciliation, for everyday life and normality, for a vision for this still young century. Everyone wants to know: What comes after the protest?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end2\" href=\"#back2\"><sup>[2]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cI&#8217;m standing here also and above all because it&#8217;s important to me personally as the person I&#8217;ve become.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end3\" href=\"#back3\"><sup>[3]<\/sup><\/a> In <em>Racism Without Racists<\/em>, Eduardo Bonilla-Silva argues that classical liberalism was \u201cthe philosophy of a nascent class [the bourgeoisie] that as an aspiring ruling class expressed its needs (political as well as economic) as general societal goals. But the bourgeois goals were not extended to the populace in their own midst until the twentieth century. Moreover, the liberal project was never inclusive of the countries that Spain, Portugal, France, Britain, the Netherlands, Italy, and later on, Germany used as outposts for raw materials and racialized workers (e.g., slaves). Although contemporary commentators debate the merits of liberal humanism as it pertains to current debates about race-based policies, muticulturalism, and \u2018equality of results,\u2019 many seem oblivious to the fact that \u2018European humanism (and liberalism) usually meant that only Europeans were human\u2019\u201d (55).<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end4\" href=\"#back4\"><sup>[4]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cOn Monsieur Guillaume de Villeneuve\u2019s plantation at Port-au-Prince in the French sector of the island of Santo Domingo there lived at the beginning of this century, at the time when the blacks were murdering the whites, a terrible old negro called Congo Hoango\u201d (Kleist 231).<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end5\" href=\"#back5\"><sup>[5]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cI especially appreciate that some former colonists and plantation owners are also here. I know that many of you have surreptitiously or openly supported the Black struggle for freedom and independence, that many of the whites have treated their slaves as well as you thought they should, that many of you are ardent supporters of the Republic or are even members of the Parisian \u2018Friends of the Blacks\u2019 and that many\u2014here as well as in France\u2014value the ideals of the revolution above their own lives, above all the equality and freedom of all people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end6\" href=\"#back6\"><sup>[6]<\/sup><\/a> \u201csometimes . . . would attack in broad daylight the settlements in which the planters had barricaded themselves, and would put every human being he found inside to the sword. Such indeed was his inhuman thirst for revenge\u201d (Kleist 232).<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end7\" href=\"#back7\"><sup>[7]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cOf course, like every war, this war is also a war of words, and of course one could also say instead of \u2018murdered\u2019: \/ &#8216;when the blacks killed the whites&#8217; \/ or \/ &nbsp;&#8216;when the enslaved populace broke their chains&#8217;\/or\/\u2018when humanity, still asleep, finally awoke.\u2019 \/ But I have nothing left for revolutionary romanticism.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end8\" href=\"#back8\"><sup>[8]<\/sup><\/a> Abu Khaled spoke about anti-Black racism among Arabs recently on Instagram; see <a href=\"https:\/\/english.alaraby.co.uk\/news\/palestinian-actress-slams-arab-racism-viral-video\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\">here<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end9\" href=\"#back9\"><sup>[9]<\/sup><\/a> \u201ca vision for a community that transcends the past and the present.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end10\" href=\"#back10\"><sup>[10]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cHere you sat in the garden and drank your coffee with a few spoonfuls of sugar . . . But behind every chair at this table there was another person all evening who had to refill your glass without asking.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end11\" href=\"#back11\"><sup>[11]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cTomorrow will be the time of peace. This country will soon become the first liberated colony, the first independent state to free itself from the yoke of slavery by its own efforts. There will be celebrations tomorrow.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end12\" href=\"#back12\"><sup>[12]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cTomorrow we will celebrate.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end13\" href=\"#back13\"><sup>[13]<\/sup><\/a> In the nineteenth century, a \u201cquadroon\u201d was defined as a person with \u201cone-fourth black blood\u201d (Schwarz).<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end14\" href=\"#back14\"><sup>[14]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cThat is my mom. And what I\u2019m interested in is:<br>why<br>does this woman sit<br>in the middle of this night<br>alone in the dark<br>with two cups of coffee?<br>Maybe<br>she does what a revolutionary should do on the supposedly last evening of the revolution: she can&#8217;t sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end15\" href=\"#back15\"><sup>[15]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cmy mother, cutting old man Villeneuve\u2019s carotid arteries with nail scissors at night and then joining the revolution.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end16\" href=\"#back16\"><sup>[16]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cAnd then in the courtroom: the sweat on the pink pig face of the judge, glowing with heat, I have to tell everything in detail, again and again, \u2018yes, I was in the house voluntarily, but this I still didn&#8217;t want to.\u2019 The sweat on the palms your father, who swears under oath that you will not be his child the sweat on Villeneuve&#8217;s forehead when he&#8217;s done with 60 whips for my false testimony.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end17\" href=\"#back17\"><sup>[17]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cIt is true. Sometimes I hear him, at night when I sleep, his endless<br>talking from all walls, his coffee smell everywhere. And then<br>I get up, go to the kitchen and make two cups of coffee,<br>both with lots of sugar, both for me . . . It&#8217;s not about your father. It&#8217;s about the judge. With every additional man I kill, I kill someone who<br>wants to judge me. And judge you, Toni. For you, Toni. So that today, you<br>can make use of your privileges. So that tomorrow, you have the freedom to judge me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end18\" href=\"#back18\"><sup>[18]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cBABEKAN Someone is at the door.<br>TONI A man?<br>BABEKAN A <em>white<\/em> one.<br>TONI All white?<br>BABEKAN I don&#8217;t know.<br>TONI Alone?<br>BABEKAN A white man never comes alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end19\" href=\"#back19\"><sup>[19]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cIf you knock on someone else&#8217;s door in the middle of the night, you either have serious problems or no manners. Of course he&#8217;s white.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end20\" href=\"#back20\"><sup>[20]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cMe, drunk in a bar in Paris. Criticizing the revolution. Never wanted anything to do with politics. Someone\u2014probably the bartender, he probably gets me extra drunk, he&#8217;s probably part of the terror tribunal himself\u2014someone betrays me. The next morning: the mob at my door. Me hiding in a friend\u2019s basement. And because they don&#8217;t find me, she [his fiance] is taken away . . . Taken away and tortured and interrogated and\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end21\" href=\"#back21\"><sup>[21]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cI&#8217;ll help you and your family . . . You&#8217;ll get me off this island for that . . . You proposed to me and I said yes, because: Who doesn&#8217;t want to go to Switzerland? What do you think, Henry?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end22\" href=\"#back22\"><sup>[22]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cI\u2019m yours, and you\u2019re my ticket.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end23\" href=\"#back23\"><sup>[23]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cLet\u2019s take [her] with. Don\u2019t worry. As soon as we\u2019re on the ship, you\u2019ll never see us again. Deal?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end24\" href=\"#back24\"><sup>[24]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cThere Herr Str\u00f6mli settled, using the rest of his small fortune to buy a house near the Rigi; and in the year 1807, among the bushes of his garden, one could still see the monument he had erected to the memory of his cousin Gustav, and to the faithful Toni, Gustav\u2019s bride\u201d (269).<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end25\" href=\"#back25\"><sup>[25]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cTONI And stop. His look, my look. And shot. Br\u00e9da shoots me between the eyes. Okay, not a smart solution. So back. Back to the beginning, back to the beginning of this century, back to Port-Au-Prince, back to the daughter of a former slave looking for a way out of history. And then: again! New variant: This time Gustav is sitting behind the door, awakened, warned and armed by me. And off we go! . . . &nbsp;And another shot and my mother next to it. Not better either. And again! Quickly! Back to the beginning. And off!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end26\" href=\"#back26\"><sup>[26]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cYou&#8217;re not the first to want to hide in this cave. Millions have been here before you. Everyone thought they were the first. Prophets, inventors, artists, revolutionaries. They always want to bring something new into the life of this planet. But they are not the first. You are just a beginner. Bloody beginners &#8211; from bloody beginnings. They end up in this cave at some point. With their songs or their flags or their God or their books or their enemies. But always: with her fear. Somebody sings and kills out there, somebody screams and dies in here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end27\" href=\"#back27\"><sup>[27]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cWe know who you are. We know you<br>your name is fear. That we do to you what you do to us. That<br>we are not as different as your books claim. Deep inside your chest<br>fear sits like a fountain. And just like water,<br>it will find its way until you drown in it.<br>We were two things to you: dangerous, but inferior. Now<br>only one thing: dangerous. You have started a spiral of violence<br>set\u2014not me. I wasn&#8217;t <em>Black<\/em> before you guys brought me to this<br>towed island. Whites and others &#8211; that was your invention,<br>and now that you&#8217;re up to your neck in water, you know nothing<br>more of that. Old and demented. The Others now outlive their <br>inventor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><a name=\"end28\" href=\"#back28\"><sup>[28]<\/sup><\/a> \u201cThis constitution is not the result of higher reason, nor the result of our struggle, it is not a result at all, at most it is the beginning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h5 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Bibliography<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">Adelson, Leslie. <em>The Turkish Turn in Contemporary German Literature: Toward a New Critical Grammar of Migration<\/em>. Palgrave MacMillian, 2005.<em>&nbsp;<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">And, Metin. <em>Drama at the Crossroads: Turkish Performing Arts Link Past, Present, East and West<\/em>. The Isis Press, 1991.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">Archer-Straw, Petrine. <em>Negrophilia. Avant-garde Paris and Black Culture in the 1920s<\/em>. Thames and Hudson, 2000.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">Bonilla-Silva, Eduardo, <em>Racism without Racists: Color-blind Racism and the Persistence of Racial Inequality in the United States<\/em>. Rowman and Littlefield, 2018.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">Coupeau, Steeve. The History of Haiti. Greenwood Publishing Group, 2008.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">De Beauvoir, Simone. <em>The Ethics of Ambiguity<\/em>. Open Road, 2018.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">Dowdy, Michael. \u201cLive Hip Hop, Collective Agency, and &#8220;Acting in Concert.\u201d&nbsp;<em>Popular Music and Society<\/em>, vol. 30, no. 1, 2007, pp. 75\u201391.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">Fanon, Frantz. <em>The Wretched of the Earth<\/em>. Grove Press. Kindle Edition, 1963.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">\u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/www.cariviews.com\/blog\/history-of-caribbean-carnival\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\">History of the Caribbean Carnival<\/a>.\u201d <em>Caribbean Views<\/em>. Accessed 2 Feb. 2023.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">James, C.L.R. <em>The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L\u2019Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution<\/em>. Vintage, 1989.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">Kleist, Heinrich. <em>The Betrothal in St. Domingo<\/em>. <em>The Marquise of O\u2014and Other Stories<\/em>, translated by David Luke. Penguin, 2004. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">K\u00f6hler, Sigrid. \u201cBeautiful Black Soul? The Racial Matrix of White Aesthetics (Reading Kotzebue against Kleist).\u201d <em>Image + Narrative<\/em>, vol. 14, no. 3, 2013, pp. 34\u201345.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">\u00d6ziri, Necati. <em>Die Verlobung in St. Domingo \u2013 ein Widerspruch gegen Heinrich von Kleist<\/em>. Felix Bloch Erben, 2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">&#8212;. <em>Die Verlobung in St. Domingo \u2013 ein Widerspruch<\/em>.Directed by Sebastian N\u00fcbling. 2019, Maxim Gorki Theatre, Berlin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">Putnam, Lara. \u201cJazzing Sheiks at the 25 Cent Bram: Panama and Harlem as Caribbean Crossroads, Circa 1910\u20131940.\u201d <em>Journal of Latin American Cultural Studies<\/em>, vol. 25, no. 3, 2016, pp. 339\u201359.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"hangingIndent\">Schwarz, Hunter. \u201cFrom \u2018Quadroon\u2019 to \u2018Hispanic\u2019: The Ever-changing Way the Census Defines Race: A Fun Infographic from Pew.\u201d <em>Washington Post<\/em>, 11 June 2015.<a name=\"end\">&nbsp;<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator has-alpha-channel-opacity is-style-wide\"\/>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-thumbnail alignnone\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"150\" height=\"150\" src=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/Priscilla-Layne-150x150.jpeg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-253\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/Priscilla-Layne-150x150.jpeg 150w, https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/Priscilla-Layne.jpeg 200w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 150px) 100vw, 150px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p><a name=\"end\" href=\"#back\">*<\/a><strong>Priscilla Layne<\/strong> is an Associate Professor of German and Adjunct Associate Professor of African Diaspora Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She published the book <em>White Rebels in Black: German Appropriation of Black Popular Culture<\/em> (2018) as well as essays on Turkish German culture, translation, punk and film. She is currently finishing a manuscript on Afro German Afrofuturism and a critical guide to Rainer Maria Fassbinder&#8217;s film <em>The Marriage of Maria Braun<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-small-font-size\">Copyright <strong>\u00a9<\/strong> 2023 Priscilla Layne<br><em>Critical Stages\/Sc\u00e8nes critiques<\/em> e-ISSN:2409-7411<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/creativecommons.org\/licenses\/by-nc-nd\/4.0\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/88x31.png\" alt=\"Creative Commons Attribution International License\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-small-font-size\">This work is licensed under the<br>Creative Commons Attribution International License CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":250,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-246","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-special-topic"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/28\/2023\/04\/image4-1.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/246","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=246"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/246\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":969,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/246\/revisions\/969"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/250"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=246"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=246"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=246"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}