Nana Tigges
Nana Tigges works between performing arts, writing, and theory. She is interested in pop theory, edits texts by others, and is currently translating a forgotten feminist novel. She organises philosophical gatherings and events and is involved in political education. She studied philosophy and theatre studies in Berlin, Glasgow, and Istanbul
appendix to a failed ode to an aching lump of flesh
touch me and let me forget that I am a body of pain, allow me to become a body of pleasure but hear my heart race and my bones ache, ache, ache, ache for a note of acknowledgment because me, no, I acknowledge nothing of the sort. Yes, in pain, that is a descriptive statement, a very sober one, quite neutral, quite quotidian, noteworthy, worthy of stating as something one might state to explain, to justify really why it had taken me so long to get back to your e-mail, yours sincerely, and my regrets are sincere I mean for the delay not for the pain or maybe my regrets for that flawed body not for the pain for that flawed body which is always in pain and what is this pain but a nuisance a nuisance to keep me from sending this e-mail in time from being a poet from feeling pleasure from succeeding from believing in
myself and what do you mean it might be the other way around and what do you mean about listening to it and loving it, appreciating the body yes, that is an important point in a feminist discussion, a body which resists the male gaze and such and such it doesn’t matter whether it is beautiful or skinny or welldefined or hairy but what about the body in pain is that one a feminist body the unloved body not from the outside but from within, a body which seems to be at war with itself, but then again what a martial metaphor that’s what I tend to think why is that stupid bitch of a body at war with me why does it keep me from running working feeling pleasure, why does it keep me from working achieving succeeding, it is not even about age about beauty I used to hate it, now I know how to present its shell, it can become a
half-pretty shell, a shell I appreciate but what is the body in pain
Once in a while when I am enjoying the movement of my body when I am running or dancing and then I sit at some yoga class and think that I should do that more, be kinder to that bitch or maybe just train that bitch, optimise that bitch, why does she start shaking shaking like hell when she is just supposed to hold still for three seconds whilst I am doing what now? downward looking dog, her arms are shaking, it is like she just wishes to give in, fall apart, fold in together, go into hiding
And I am asking AI why can’t she bend why can’t she bend her back so that her forehead can touch the ground and why can’t she stand still why does she start running circles at every bus stop why does she start shaking and blacking out whilst she is just supposed to stand still for a second why does she start crying when she is supposed to be still and let her mind relax why does stillness feel like torture it’s not even like that stupid bitch has to do anything difficult and look at all the other bodies they are more beautiful, more well-defined, yes, less swollen but that’s not it
why do they stand still without fainting whilst the collapse is always so close to her. And then again she can do things no one else can do, she can dance for 3 days in a row, she can stay awake for weeks and weeks on end, she can move constantly when she gets her fits of rage AI says it is not a problem of the laziness, of the lack of muscle training, not really anyways not even of nutrition (though nourishing her is another big topic, a dull one, or maybe one that is so uncomfortable that she becomes even disinterested in theorising about it, and usually everything seems brighter on the side of theory), it is a lack of safety or rather a too much of protection. It is like she can’t relax
No pelvic floor training, her pelvic floor is hyperactive, scanning every possible danger, standing still feels too dangerous, even for one second, let it sink in, the feeling could break through, the system, which is always under tension could collapse, truly, collapse if it gives in if she gives in for just a second. But then couldn’t we call collapse relief? When she was pumped full with medication to help against the endless inner tensions, the cramps and contortions, she at some point didn’t know what to do with this attempt of fixation whilst she tried to fix everything, to hold everything together. So she decided it was time to die. Her organs collapsed, the barriers of her skin collapsed, her skin transformed, turned her into a
hideous thing, a thing not recognisable even for the ones most familiar with her pretty shell, her shell showed the battle she was fighting inside just for one moment on the outside. Then some other meds healed the shell and now the battle inside is truly battled on the other/inner side of her skin again.
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