The fear of not being included 
silenced me from saying that 
it was about me.
I walked away, but their words will never be silenced.
I wanted to say 
that it is not always 
a struggle 
sometimes it is 
only a wordless 
and tranquil sense 
of knowing, 
and you can 
just stand up 
and walk 
away from 
constricted rooms.
I wanted to tell 
about the importance 
of sheltering your roots and exist in 
your being
I am brought up in a closed of context where 
daily life was completely permeated by 
fundamentalistic religious ideology. 
This photo ” plastered facticity” communicates the lifelong challenge of understanding and 
follow a personal identity when shaped in a context strongly supressing the world and 
community around and the individuals instinct to listen to the inner voice or trusting inner visions. 
To wean of a lifeforce and a reality structure 
being aimed out and up, to a vitality and insight that came from within - letting a consiousness from an inner inquiery guide me. 
The bodyshape of the Being, in the photo, 
creates an arrow pointing up while at the same time the hands behind the ”paradise-mask” aim inwards. As a parallell to the symbol of fruit in christian symbolism, stands the Being firmly in both crushed and whole pieces of fruit.
A word often spoken to, and about me, was ”wrong”.
My friends were the ”wrong kind”, my clothing was ” wrong” just as the music I listened to. Questioning itself meant to be in the wrong.
Woundrability, exposure and sense  of belonging. 
The photo contains grief, sense of being, 
birth and death, 
-my embodiment to be the one I am




 I was born as a girl. I was born in a pentacostal 
church in northern Sweden. As a 4-5 year old I felt and voiced that I was different than the other girls and I told my mom I was more like a boy than a girl. 
The reaction I got made 
me close of and shun my feelings. 
As a teenager I hid in the bathroom and punished myself for not being able to be recived and embraced by God as the one I was. 
I cut myself.


Muster up courtage enough to tell my family my most personal secret - took me 21 years.
I am brought up in a family imprinted by the swedish non-conformist church and consequently I became a part of that movement, something that even now causes me shame. Back then, I met people in judgement, sometimes triggered by them just havin another religion or beliefsystem from me.
Today, years later, I do not fel like a sinner because I’m certain of Gods love for me as the person I truly am. It is a comprehension untouchable of others judgement whom brazen God himself when judging others. Satan brazened God and see what happened to him…
In the swedish province ”Dalarna”, in a small village, I had experiences that deeply influenced me to the person I am today. 
The small community was quite transparent and peoples views was heavily effekted by eachothers. I became very religious, fanatic in fact. I shared my religious beliefs undicerning and condemnatory. When students made fun of me and taunted me to ”walk on water” I asked them to pour it on the floor and see me walk on it. Nothing made me tremble. When an older man once passed me by and said he would kill me - I asked for a date so I could scedule it.
During this period I hid and denied the fact that I was a sinner of the worst kind - a homosexual.
My strong religious beliefs and the gradual understanding of who I was made me cold and insensible, as my mother rightfully remember me during that time. I denied myself my own feelings wich turned me cold. My mother tried to make me aware of girls improving looks towards me, but I didn’t respond to it. I had no feelings -no lovingly happy feelings.
I told my family my truth march 10th 2011, the birthday of two of my sisters. I jokingly explain my choice of date as an attempt to get some of the excessive attention they always get sharing the same birthday. I told my mother that I am a homosexual in a sms and she responded immediatly with 
” What?”. An initial worry about her short answer was calmed in the phonecall that followed. I could finally be free in the knowing of who I was. Freed of constant controlling how to react and behave. 
I am now freed of being bound and enslaved by sin - in a wounderful way. 

I was supposed to be free of guilt and shame by adultbaptism.

This cursed yoke of shame,
forced upon me by my 
childhood and upbringing 
in the midst of a congregation.
I found freedom when I 
could be myself.
There was a time when the guilt and the shame towards God made me not want to live anymore.
There was no help in prayers"

I was brought up in a muslim family in Irak. 
I was born as a biological boy but already 
at 2–3 years of age I felt I was a girl. 

My parents let it alone and ”played-along” in 
my girliness. It took a much more difficult turn 
when I reached puberty and my parents 
understood it was not a fase. 
I was sent away, for both my and their sake. 
I was fortunate to become a quota refugee to Sweden and by the help of different organisations 
I now live well as a woman after recieving sex 
reassignment treatment.
I have no contact with my family, they have 
probably told people I am dead.

As a teen that poundered over a troubled identity I questioned everything about my upbringing. I doubted the God who was 
supposed to loved me unconditionally.
According to the congregation it was a sin 
to love someone of the same sex, and still 
I did. Why? Why me? I just wanted to be 
like everybody else, to fit in.
They prayed for and over me, but my guilt grew. And even more so for not being helped by their prayers.
It was the humans in the congregation that said it was a sin - not God

The freedom came when I told my big secret. 

My childhood in the congregation contained many judgemental sermons with shame and guilt and the speaking of tongues. What was sinfull and who was a sinner? 
I still live everyday with feelings of guilt and shame, even though I realize that the 
judgement is from other humans 
- not by God.

As a pastor of a congregation in northern sweden my father was aperson of authority, the one members 
looked up to and turned to when facing difficulties like doubt or when they needed guidence when challenged with difficult lifequestions. 
His sermons where often harsh and judgemental wich 
imposed guilt. Heaven and hell. Homosexuality and 
adultery were often were discussed. 
I was alone with my father after my mothers passing 
when I was six years old. He was my whole world, and the one understanding and explaining the outside world to me. One night, when I was 18 years old and came home earlier than expected from a camp the congregation arranged, 
I saw something that changed my whole world. The table in the kitchen was set for five people, with the blue and white coffeset. I rembember the details vividly, even now fifty years later. There my father sat, alone, at the table set for guests. He was dressed in womans clothing, red lipstick and with red nailpolish on. 
My world got distorted and confused after this. My father, who so firmly and publicly declared the perversions of ”distorted genderroles” and often stated that ” a man is 
a man and a woman is a woman”.
I am now myself an older person and my father is dead since many years. Today my heart goes out to him, 
I feel sorry for him probably being so alone with his inner thoughts.
I wish for everybody the ability to live their truth and live with the one they love. 

...it also says that a woman should be silent

I was seven years old and sought refuge in the forest. There, sittning by a tree, I decided to become someone else.
I could no longer stand being met by silence or being told I was sick when showing feelings or voicing opinions that challenged the norms of conduct. 
So, I started to pretend.
35 years later, the bubble was forcefully bursted and I would return to the tree - remembering my being and decided to stand in my truth - no matter the pain it would take.

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