The first issue was called Het Tijdschrift Norden. At the time I had convinced myself that English was becoming the language of censorship, the language in which inconvenient facts quietly disappear.
That conviction lasted one issue.
Sooner or later every simple Dutch word must apparently be replaced with an English one. The corporate world started the habit. The LGBTQ+ movement did not object.
The Dutch word gemeenschap began to feel suspiciously old-fashioned and was replaced with community. The perfectly respectable word vakfotograaf, meaning professional photographer, started sounding dangerously close to fuckfotograaf. Which, as career paths go, suggests a rather different specialisation.
Still, I worked on Norden Magazine with enormous pleasure. Five years of it. I met many interesting people during that time. I also met quite a few who were able to detect unacceptable behaviour only when it came from outside their own group. Eh pardon me, their community.
Late last year I decided to pause the magazine.
I did not explain why. Exactly one person asked.
The answer came immediately:
‘A lack of respect!’
It is a serious accusation in the LGBTQ+ scene. Interestingly, it is also a scene where the concept of disrespect circulates constantly, though seldom in relation to one’s own circle.
The work had gradually become difficult for two reasons.
The interviews were the first problem. Without exception they drifted toward the same sentence:
“Everyone should be able to be themselves.”
Three thumbs up from me. I agree completely.
Still, I occasionally hope that certain categories of people might reconsider the project of being themselves. Serial killers, for example. Rapists. And the individuals who sometimes decide that beating up a Drag Queen in the street is an acceptable form of recreation.
The list of people who might benefit from a temporary suspension of their authentic selves is longer than one might think. But let us keep things manageable.
There is nothing inherently wrong with identity politics. I simply have a weakness for slightly more original slogans.
After a while every activist began telling roughly the same story. Interviewing slowly turned into a ritual in which both parties already knew the lines. Typing them out again and again, however important they may be, eventually becomes exhausting.
The photography, fortunately, remained mostly enjoyable.
As Norden slowly became better known, we began encountering an increasing number of foundations and small organisations. Their structures were often opaque. Charitable foundations with ANBI status. Foundations that existed primarily to serve the interests of a larger business.
And then there was the municipality of Amsterdam, whose relationship with Pride is best described as ambiguous. The city is happy to present itself as the gay capital of the world. At the same time it prefers to appear reassuringly tidy to the international audience. After all, WorldPride is approaching, and the Amsterdam Pride celebrations attract considerable global attention.
It is difficult to truly be yourself when the whole world is watching.
And there we are again: being yourself.
Personally I find it rather difficult to be someone else, which probably explains why I have stepped on quite a few toes over the years.
As a certified bisexual, a qualification acquired through experience rather than bureaucracy, my earlier encounters with the community have left me slightly cautious when it comes to solidarity. Another word that has quietly fallen out of fashion.
For the moment Norden Magazine rests on the shelf.
In the meantime I have been working on other publications: True Photography Magazine, and smaller book projects including Everyone Has to Pay and the forthcoming Notes of an Extremely Boring Photographer – With Very Exciting Images.
Magazines, like people, occasionally benefit from a little silence.