Disappearance of The Red Chador: A Eulogy
Delivered May 5, 2018 by Anida Yoeu Ali
Epigraphs in memory of you.
“Artists Need to create on the same scale that society has the capacity to destroy”
– A neon sign installation I spotted in LA at FarmLab created by Lauren Bon
“Memorials have consistent rituals; they always start with the past tense.”
— Mahmoud Darwish, Palestine’s national poet (died 2008)
“...a society cannot know itself if it does not have an accurate memory of its own history.”
— Youk Chang, Director of the Documentation Center of Cambodia
Muslim. Artist. Survivor.
Your enforced disappearance is a strategy to spread terror within society. We must name it for what it is. Enforced disappearances have become a global problem. Once largely used by military dictatorships, disappearances now happen in many internal conflicts, particularly when trying to repress political opponents. We must name it for what it is. The feeling of insecurity and fear it generates is not limited to close relatives of the disappeared, but also affects communities and society as a whole. Human rights defenders, relatives of victims, witnesses and lawyers seem to be particular targets, but vulnerable people are always at risk. You, my dearest Red Chador were always at risk. And we know that every disappearance violates a range of human rights.
I, Anida Yoeu Ali, am the only surviving kin to The Red Chador. She lived a life of international mystery veiling herself in silence and red sequins. But in her silence she spoke truth to power. Reflected people’s fears, anxieties, uncomfortable gawkings and occasionally joy and humor onto themselves. They were the unsuspecting public. Everyday people in daily urban settings going about their day: KL, HK, Seattle-Tacoma, SF, DC, Hartford, Paris
I have nothing left of The Red Chador.
No physical remains. No more red boots. No veil. Not even one sequin.
I don’t even have enough words to own this moment of pain and loss.
It is as if I have returned to the nothingness to which started my entire refugee experience. Arriving…with nothing but the clothes on our backs.
But that’s not exactly true because I, as the performer, embodied her.
She lived through me. And so “The Red Chador “leaves behind her memories and experiences through a well-documented body of work and through the thousands of people across multiple cities around the globe who shared a moment with her.
My friend, artist Gregg Deal who shared exactly 2 minutes of stage time with The Red Chador had this to say about her:
“I know you by your presence. Your very existence is where I found you to be beautiful and daunting and powerful all at once. You never said a word to me on that summer day, and in lieu of your words, you spoke with your presence. I had no idea that mere presence could create impact, bold statements, and questions that would make me personally question my own view and the value of those things, and thus my own existence in space and time. I didn’t know that you could do what you do. I didn’t know that you could wield power the way that you do. While you moved freely that few days I knew you, you were bound. Your voice was bound, and your very being was altered by fear and control. I could see that it hurt you to be bound in such a way, but you said as loudly and as boldly as you could that you were here. Everyone was required to see you. To breath in the beauty of your existence, and the protest of power that came from that. I will miss you. I had hoped to talk to you one day. To watch you glitter in the sunlight and to continue to teach me the value of your existence, the value of being, the power of voice in the voicelessness of those moments. You are power. You will not be forgotten.”
And there are others who continue to celebrate you. Some knew you and some knew of you. They had this to say about you:
Dear Red Chador: You leave us a hole in your absence even as your glitter shimmers on and on and on, catching and refracting light across the globe. We miss you and will still look for you, always.
–
Dear Red Chador, I met you online first, so it may be more appropriate to say you introduced me to Anida, rather than the other way around. You taught me that silence can speak volumes. You will be mourned and missed, but no "disappearance" can make you silent. Salaam
–
We cry for RED CHADOR and all her relations who have disappeared and status unknown. The RED CHADOR traveled the world, gracing all who met her and she lives on in each of us! Justice for RED CHADOR and may her whereabouts be found, we await and keep a vigil for her!
–
I had the privilege of meeting the Red Chador in Seattle last year and watching her walk down the street on Capitol Hill and inside the King Street Station. She was truly something special and it was always fascinating to watch the reactions she elicited from passerby’s - everything from sheer terror to warm embraces. RIP Red Chador, your great and courageous contribution will never be forgotten.
–
What a loss to humanity! I have never met her live and yet, what she conveyed spoke volumes to me as to how dominant perceptions need be challenged on a daily basis - in the midst of us - and how it is our responsibility to bring love and compassion to every single person. Saddened by her disappearance and hopeful that she can be reclaimed at customs.
–
Dearest Red Chador. My dearest red chador. You will continue to leave behind questions and curiosities. This is not unspeakable loss. I will continue to speak of you, about you, with you.
And one day I know you will return and your rebirth will be epic.
In the meantime I will offer this last bit of poetic imagination because I choose to remember you not as one single voice and body but rather as a voice for many.
–
99.
Imagine 99 women. Imagine 99 Muslim women. Imagine 99 Muslim women and transgendered bodies. Imagine them covered in red. Not blood. Imagine our bodies whole. Still covered. Head to toe. Shiny. Shimmering. Sparkling. Sequins. Imagine 99 bodies dressed in sequined red chadors. Imagine you know what a chador is. Imagine the Muslim body beneath the sheath. Imagine you are not scared. Imagine you are smiling and joyful as this brigade of 99 Muslim bodies, covered head to toe, in sparkling sequined red chadors, stand before you against a lush landscape of everything you hold holy. 99 bodies in red chadors slowly walking between sky and land. Between you and your fears. But you are smiling, warm and embracing. 99 Muslim bodies walk towards you. In red. Not blood. A brigade of 99, a dance legion, a rhythm nation, a small army of peace, an unarmed militia of strength, a congregation, a moving image slowly walking towards you. In red. Not blood. Mighty. Proud. Glorious. Muslim. Women. Trans. Bleeding brightness. Not Blood but sunshine. Sparkling. Shimmering. Shiny. Head to toe. Still Covered. Whole. 99 Bodies. Moving. Dancing across your horizon. Still Covered. In Red. Not Blood. Red Chadors. Right. In. Front. Of. You.
99.
