The members of the artist collective Aurora Negra develop theatre out of their biographies and speak on stage in the first person, as the subject of their own story. Their first joint production ‘Aurora Negra’ celebrated its premiere at the Teatro Nacional D. Maria II in Lisbon in 2020. It was the first performance of a play written and presented on stage by black Portuguese women of African descent in the 175-year history of the Portuguese national theatre. It deals with issues that define us as a society – freedom, equality, representation, justice. Cleo Diára, Isabél Zuaa and Nádia Yracema spoke before the premiere about their experiences as black female artists in the predominantly white cultural scene, which are certainly transferable to many countries around the world.
– 24 May 2024
The interview was conducted by Maria João Guardão on 15 August 2020 for the programme of the world premiere of ‘Aurora Negra’ at the National Theatre in Lisbon. We are publishing an abridged translation of the original Portuguese version.
asphalt will be showing ‘Aurora Negra’ on 11 July 2024 at 19:30 at D’haus Central in English and Portuguese with German surtitles.
Isabél Zuaa: A healthy exchange is important within society, but in reality this exchange has been unbalanced for several centuries. Because we know everything about our white fellow human beings – we know their books, their philosophers, their religion – and our fellow human beings don’t really know us. Maybe they know our food, maybe they know our fingerprints, but they don’t know our pains, maybe they don’t even know our joys. We are on the stage to share. It takes a moment of listening to create a different understanding. I know white artists, I’ve met them in books, I’ve met them on stage, I’ve met them in the cinema, and now I’m going to introduce myself. It’s not someone else’s view of me, it’s my own view of my own experience.
Nádia Yracema: We take a moment on stage to talk without being interrupted. When you talk about racism and people don’t want to listen, they say: ‘But I’m not racist!’ We just ask the audience to listen to what we have to say. We don’t want them to take it as a personal attack in any way. But you can have black friends and be racist, you can like the food of other cultures and be racist, you can date black people and be racist and perpetuate racism! That’s just it. It’s rooted in our upbringing. And both sides have to deconstruct that.
Cleo Diára: We need to have a serious and responsible conversation about who we are as a society without feeling attacked. And give other people and the existence of other stories a chance, because if there is only one story, it means that a part is silenced, as the writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie says. Because we are all part of this society, and for me that is the key point: we have this opportunity to not always be marginalised by the stories we are told. The first black woman I saw on stage was Isabél in Mozambique in 2017. I didn’t used to go to the theatre. But when a black body occupies a space, you see yourself represented, and this representation gives you the opportunity to dream.
Isabél Zuaa: I often went to the theatre and to exhibitions and I was the only black woman in these places, not only on stage but also backstage! And I automatically thought: ‘This place is not for me, I’m not welcome there.’ Most of the time I was treated very well, but it was black-only syndrome in a privileged environment. Nádia and Cleo were lucky enough to attend the conservatory together. But I, although much loved and appreciated, was the only one at the Escola Superior de Teatro e Cinema, and many of the things I said people didn’t understand. It’s all very complex because you don’t conform to what people expect of you. So I had the feeling that I was in a non-place. Today I believe that this is an in-between place of experience. I lived in Brazil between 2012 and 2016 and made performances and photographs on these themes. But not in Portugal, the country where I was born – I don’t know if I can call it my home country. And when I came back and met first Cleo and then Nádia, I realised what an opportunity it was to have two black women artists, my mirrors! We could talk about issues that we knew because we had the same experiences. And the three of us worked together on our desires.
Nádia Yracema: At the beginning, we wanted to talk about the issue of black working women who make it possible for this society to continue to exist in a certain way, who clean, who wash, who wake up at four in the morning and nobody sees them, who do everything and then disappear. And then we realised that the story of our mothers is exactly the story of these women who have always worked in the kitchen, in the factory, at their cleaning job. And suddenly we also talked about what makes us special and realised that we had a lot in common. I’ve been Portuguese now – since December, 20 years after I came here! It’s also a struggle for Cléo, who came to Portugal when she was 10 or 11, and for Isabél, who was born here in Estefânia. So there were very strong points of connection: our mothers, this place in between, the question of how to look at the stage. Before I studied and became an artist, I thought that in the world of art I would find a place where I could exist without shame, where there wouldn’t be the prejudices about my body that I felt in society. And it was a shock for me to realise how present these structures are in Portuguese art and how elitist it is and how it still perpetuates stereotypes, conventions and narratives that are completely exclusionary and long-lasting. So the scholarship opened a door [Aurora Negra is the winning project of the 2019 Amélia Rey Colaço Scholarship].
Cleo Diára: It really is a sisterhood that has formed, it’s about looking out for each other. We can write together, think together, but also overcome the ‘single black woman syndrome’, the loneliness of black women that we don’t often talk about, this suffering that we carry around with us, these traumas. How can we verbalise it, how can we discover words, books, songs, rituals, remedies? And this discovery is also a path for us. It is a path that we can name. And this naming is very important: we say something that the other denies, and so a gap is created that leads to serious disagreement. Then comes a time when you start to question yourself! How can it be that something that is so visible, so tangible for me does not pass on to the other person? How is it possible that there is such a big gap? So that’s what it is, to recognise that it exists and that it is concrete and that it has a name: the feeling that a shiver runs down your spine, that has a name. This feeling of being alone in the room, always, that has a name. This feeling that we are ashamed when the other person makes a racist joke – although it’s not us who should be ashamed, but the other person – that has a name.
‘In the theatre or at exhibitions, I was the only black woman, not only on stage but also backstage.’
Isabél Zuaa: It goes from the most obvious to the most subtle: going to the theatre and not being seen, going into a shop and being watched by security guards, going to a casting and not being recognised as an applicant at all …
Cleo Diára: Sometimes you get a script that’s full of prejudices and you have to think about how to tell the person who wrote it that it’s not right. In our own play, I don’t have to explain that. I don’t have to be an educator or be embarrassed to ask myself whether I should talk about what I’ve written or not.
Isabél Zuaa: Because we can’t just be actresses. We are black actresses and therefore …
Nádia Yracema: … also teachers, educators.
Isabél Zuaa: We have to teach how to be treated and we also have to somehow make people think about the things they write, but without them feeling offended. It’s very complex because we often don’t have the courage to say, ‘Look, you’re upholding completely racist and violent conventions about my body and using that as a joke, and I’m really embarrassed and hurt by that.’ And that’s what we’re talking about in ‘Aurora Negra’ in 2020.
Cleo Diára: It’s a tough fight, but we don’t have much choice. We have to fight because we have people we love and we want to leave them a better place. Just like they fought for me to have my privileges now, I will fight for my nephews’ lives to be better. I don’t want them to have to worry about basic things. There’s no turning back now.
Nádia Yracema: The door has been opened, the machine starts moving.
Cleo Diára: Racist statements are becoming more and more acceptable in democracy, racists have a voice in many parliaments. How can it be that in a society that is pluralistic and diverse, people still believe that other bodies don’t belong? Where do these people get the legitimisation to do this? You have to start with education.
Nádia Yracema: Let’s start with all the history books we give children in fourth, fifth and sixth grade. We should have the courage to rewrite them.
Isabél Zuaa: You can’t put ‘gold, ivory, diamonds, spices and slaves’ in the same sentence. These people are not slaves, these people have been horribly enslaved and dehumanised for centuries! By others who did not set out to discover something, but to exploit! They were not conquerors, they were rapists and oppressors! I began to demystify these kinds of narratives, which my father also upheld – because they were inculcated and taught to him. Once I realised this, I chose a path of no return. It is a path of no return. And that’s a good thing!
Cleo Diára: We need to reclaim our history and really get to know it so that we can find our pride in the midst of so much oppression and non-acceptance. We need this empowerment and it comes more and more from the exchange we have with each other and with everyone else. We know that there is a place that belongs to us, even if people try to close it off. I think we are building a path to this place with Aurora Negra.
Nádia Yracema: Our piece is a critical reflection on our experiences, on this society, on the racist structure, but it is not a piece with solutions. It addresses things, sheds light on different aspects, but has no answers. We are interested in understanding how art can actualise the issue of racism and we know that a new departure is needed.
‘When a black person does something, they represent other black people, but a white person doesn’t.’
Cleo Diára: And it’s about us. It’s about this place where we are and how we can inhabit a home that is often not welcoming. And it’s also about our ancestors, because there is that connection. We know that other strong women have fearlessly paved the way for us so that it’s much easier for us today. And these women are our point of reference, they saved us too! So there is also something to celebrate!
Isabél Zuaa: The point is that when a black man does something, he represents the other blacks, but a white man does not. For better or for worse. And that’s very complex. We don’t represent anyone here, we don’t represent a nation. This is another prejudice about our existence and our desires. Representation is important, yes, but I represent myself and my story, and everyone represents themselves. And maybe we have simpler desires: the right to exist, the freedom to talk about other things and about our diversity.
Cleo Diára: Our play is not about racism, but about the experiences of three black women who are artists and have experienced certain things. Our experiences are diverse and different, it’s not just about pain, but also about happiness, celebrations, ceremonies and rituals, it’s about the desire for very simple things, human and artistic. We want to laugh, we want to have fun, we want to dance. Yes, we want to talk, but we are the protagonists and the hosts of this place, of this moment. This is us. And we invite everyone to listen to us.
Isabél Zuaa: At one point in the play it says: ‘A happy black woman is a revolutionary act’. We also talk about our family structure, which gave us the opportunity and the privilege to travel, to go on study exchanges, to buy books, to go on holiday. Our mothers didn’t have all that, but they fought very honestly and very hard so that we wouldn’t have to go through what they did. We want to praise these women and emphasise how important what they gave us is.
Nádia Yracema: I thought a lot about the poster announcing ‘Aurora Negra’: three black women on the façade of the National Theatre of Portugal. It could perhaps be an invitation to other bodies to enter the theatre.
Isabél Zuaa: There are now many girls in my neighbourhood who want to become actresses. And the fact that they see me as a reference – someone who has studied theatre and works as an artist – is wonderful for me, because I didn’t have that reference nearby. And now they’re going to see this poster! The last scene in our play is about the simplicity and dignity of this dream.
Cleo Diára: We’ve always said that we want to celebrate the black woman with everything she has, and that’s what I’m going to try to do. We celebrate our mothers who have done so much to make us freer than they were.
