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Writer's pictureMyah Goff

Dual exhibit spotlights East African diaspora, Black trans lives


An oil and acrylic painting that shows East African people as well as sheep and other obects depicting East African life. The colors are primarily orange and red.
Nafyar, Wan iyo Waraabe (The lamb and the hyena), oil and acrylic on canvas, 54"x70" (2023) Part of the "Adera, Lije; Adera Lijen" exhibit at Public Functionary in Minneapolis.

Public Functionary, an artist-led space dedicated to amplifying marginalized voices, is currently hosting two exhibits exploring the complexities of identity and belonging. “Adera Lije; Adera Lijen” offers an intimate look into the first and second-generation immigrant experience of artists from the Horn of Africa, while “Blackness in Transit: BGBM” presents a poignant photography series capturing the childhood spaces of Black transgender men.


“Adera Lije; Adera Lijen” bridges East African culture through art, poetry, and coffee traditions


Curated by Ethiopian-American artist Makeda Tadesse, “Adera Lije; Adera Lijen,” honors the heritage and experiences of East African artists, particularly from Ethiopian, Eritrean and Somali-American communities.  The title, derived from Amharic, translates to “protect my child,” Tadesse said. “It’s a word that I hear my mom say to me pretty often, especially when I’m leaving the house. It’s not something said casually, only when it’s really important.”


The exhibit features artworks by Minneapolis painters Bereket Adamu and Nafyar, and ceramicist Addisalem Alemu, exploring themes of identity, displacement and cultural preservation. Virginia-based poet Elsa Lakew contributed her poem “Unbraiding My Tongue.” which reflects on language and migration. 


“I’m really grateful for Elsa and having that poem in the exhibition because there are people who are not from the Horn who speak Spanish and were telling me how meaningful that poem was to them and how much it resonated with them,” Tadesse said. “There’s a line about trying to pronounce your name in the graveyard of your mouth, which really struck a chord with people.”


“Speaking Amharic exclusively with family or community members, my accent would be different, or I wouldn’t say a word correctly,” she said. “It was a humbling experience to not feel like you’re enough in the communities you’re supposed to be a part of.” 


Growing up in a predominantly white suburb in Coon Rapids, Tadesse experienced a cultural dissonance between her Ethiopian heritage and the dominant American culture. Challenges in middle school, where her name and accent marked her as different, contributed to a sense of not fully belonging to either community. 


“As a kid, I was really immersed in my cultural traditions, going to community events and going to church,” she said. “As you get older, you kind of develop a shame of the culture that you have because it’s not the dominant one, you know? It’s all the effects of white supremacy and anti-Blackness and essentially, in adolescence, there’s this resentment of not being American enough. It wasn’t until highschool when I wanted to reconnect with my culture.”


The exhibit includes Tadesse’s video, “For Why Would I Drink if Not For Your Arrangement?” directed in collaboration with artists Bonna Dabala and Kabor Namarra. Filmed in her home, the video showcases traditional Ethiopian coffee preparation, performed by her aunt, and the use of a modern coffee machine demonstrated by her sister. 


Tadesse explains that drinking coffee is a cultural ritual  that ties together many East African communities. “Coffee is like a moment of rest and community and connection.”  It wasn't until college that she used an American coffee machine for the first time and realized the stark cultural difference. “Oh you guys use this to wake up! Like this is not something we’re going to take an hour to do while we talk about our day.”


The exhibit also features historical photographs of Ethiopian community spaces, such as Mr. Abraham Oluma’s Odaa Ethiopian Restaurant, the first Ethiopian restaurant in Minneapolis, which played a significant role in supporting refugees from East Africa. 


“For those who are from East Africa or not, I hope the exhibit feels like home,” Tadesse said. “I hope it feels like being held and being seen in a very specific, niche way. I think it’s a specific experience for marginalized communities to long for something you don’t quite know so well so I hope this can be a place for a reflection to think about where you belong.”



A photograph showing the back of a person in a store looking at a display of Barbie dolls.
Bearboi, The Return to Barbie Land, Digital Photography (2023) Part of the "Bearboi: Blackness in Transit: BGBM" exhibit at Public Functionary in Minneapolis.

“Blackness in Transit: BGBM”  explores Black trans masculinity through portraiture 


Minneapolis photographer Bearboi explores the experiences of Black transgender men and masculine individuals with his ongoing project, “Blackness in Transit: BGBM (Black Girl to Black Man).” The exhibit combines large-scale photographs, ambient soundscapes, and poetry to explore the experiences of Black transgender men and masculine individuals revisiting their childhood locations. 


Growing up queer and Black in Maryland, Bearboi found solace in photography from an early age. He picked up his first camera at 11 years old as a way to communicate and connect with the world around him.


“I had a very traumatic life growing up and so in my teenage years, and even being a young adult, I would be selectively mute and nonverbal,” he said. “There are still days where, depending on stress levels or additional medical factors, I won’t talk for a couple days, so this was just one way for me to be able to communicate.”


photography became Bearboi’s means of expression, offering a voice when words failed. As he navigated his identity in a society that often marginalized him, the camera became a tool for self-discovery.


“I was a queer child, deviating from gender, called my first slur at five or six years old,” he said. “I didn’t see my first trans man, let alone a Black trans man, until my early 20s. I felt so isolated for so long trying to figure out my identity and naming it. When I came around more queer and Trans people like me, it was like ‘okay, our archives are lost but we’ve always been here. Why don’t we document that ourselves?’” 


“Blackness in Transit: BGBM” responds to that need by centering the stories, memories and identities of Black transgender men, affirming their presence in a world often reluctant to acknowledge them.


“We’re in a society where once you transition, you’re not supposed to talk about before,” Bearboi said. “But I don’t believe that to be true. I think that kind of removes the wholeness and fullness of us. These experiences are what shaped us.” 


The exhibit features intimate portraits set in familiar yet emotionally charged spaces: a beauty supply store in Brooklyn Center, a Target Barbie aisle, and just outside a women’s restroom. Personal artifacts – a Spalding basketball evoking the 2000 film “Love & Basketball,”  a perm box representing the hair experiences of Black girlhood, and saran wrap, which Bearboi used to bind his chest as a child — become symbols of lived experiences. 


The exhibit is designed to mirror a metro train car, with photographs arranged like doors and windows. The use of glass frames encourages viewers to confront their own reflections and biases. 


“This is not a cisgender man waiting outside of the women’s bathroom for his girlfriend. This is someone who is returning to a space that he may need to return to in maybe a year, depending on the presidency and bathroom bills, right?” he said. “The glass is there for a reason. You’re checking your bias at the door.”


A recording of the Washington D.C. Metro accompanies the visuals, creating an immersive environment where viewers can look closer at the moments and memories of transgender people in the process of becoming.


“Do they know my brothers exist?” Bearboi asked. “Do they know that I exist? At some point, during transition, you become unrecognizable to yourself and that’s another reason for the glass. It’s a reminder that you’re here. You’re supposed to be here. You’re valued. This is a space where you can come and learn about your identity, your brothers and your elders.”


Date: Through August 17, 2024. 

Time: 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday.

Location: Public Functionary, 1500 Jackson St. N.E., Minneapolis

Cost: Free

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