The Birth of Francesc Oui

Just born.

(First meal.)

It’s the faces of those you love most the ones that get erased.

(Empty bed.)

I have some truly good friends, people who do not judge me for isolated actions, who offer me a ride from the hospital. Back home though, I can tell the way things started. I am an angel of doom. Or at least I was one. How could someone fall in love with me?

When I used to say my performances would be done only once, it made you feel special when you attended one. All of you. Because you knew it would not be repeated. Well, I just gave birth to myself and believe me: this won’t happen anymore. I mean anymore.

Who told us we should live fast and die young? We love slow. And there’s no use in dying young anymore.

There is a little reindeer hanging on the door, reminding me that I am hanging on too, halfway between stillness and struggle. But in days like these, standing still is a matter of struggle. Needless to say I don’t care whether I struggle with my own strength, by my own will or with my own blood. After all, there is already so much blood from someone else running through my veins.

When I was a kid, I had strange suspicions. When I was told my blood type was A negative, I found it quite suspicious. Chances that the people I lived with were actually my parents were 1/16. But I had also been told that God was my father. What’s the use in having a father you cannot trust?

I was told I was a boy and that I should behave as one. I am only faithful to my curiosity and loyal to my Chosen Family. I don’t believe in boys or girls but I do believe in the beauty of surprising yourself as you become who you are.

Being is not something natural. Being is very much like art. The first coming into life is a trauma. So we are worth a second coming: a Be-Coming.

It’s hard to start from scratch, find new words, live beyond fear. But as I let myself be taken care of, I recognize the ones who love me. And if I love Möm and Däd it’s because I don’t have to. Möm is not the usual mother. Möm and I embraced a peculiar relationship where there is no womb other than the slight anxiety of waiting. We wait together because what we are waiting for is full of intention and wonder.

There is no distinction of meaning so fine as to consist in anything but a possible difference of practice.” (Charles Sanders Peirce)

If we want to change a meaning, we have to change a practice first. Sometimes the more you practise the less meaningful you are. Be spontaneous, make mistakes. Being wrong makes us true.

The first time we are born, we cannot be witnesses. Doesn’t it feel wrong not to witness your own birth? So I needed this second birth, I needed to Be-come, and I wanted you to know this. I want to tell everyone that now I have a name I chose, that I don’t believe in gender, that I am a performer, and you are free to decide whether you will ignore me or feel the urge to fuck yourself too and give birth to a New You.

Heritage is a drug. It may be inspiring or exhilarating. But it is always intoxicating. To inherit goods or money does not necessarily make us wealthier. Family burden is passed on. Engagements and expectations are passed on. Karma or whatever puts boundaries on you is passed on. Heritage is poison. Gift is the antidote.

I am not a descendant of the Shoah but there is definitely some Sephardic curse upon me. There is no use in going through so much pain. I believed art would soothe me and then I would soothe other people but no one seems to care.

When you’re tired, rest is all you wish for. We are all tired now. This is why the earth will not stand us much longer. It will become a forgotten grave, a tiny little womb in the middle of the universe.

No matter how tiny the world is, there is something priceless about the feeling of waking up and thinking of all the possibilities left to explore. In some cold nights, I toss and turn until I realize that the moon is still there, white as milk. And it feels like a promise.

Join me in my new life. It’s happening now.

Photography: Yelena Cvejic