Collection #4 "Na-nay"
Imagine everything is very serious, pious and money is tight. You have to behave, be humble, watch your steps, dress modestly and generally keep a low profile. That's what being a girl or a woman means for many in Afghanistan and its diaspora. Except at weddings, family gatherings and all female dance parties. That's when all the polite, shy ladies turn into flamboyant, extroverted disco queens. It's when the modest face becomes a canvas for bright colours and glitter. It's when, as little girls, we were encouraged to wear bright, shiny dresses and pushed into the spotlight to do some Na-nay, make some moves, shake our hips and clap our hands. We danced with our mother's gold bracelets as her perm wiggled to the beat. Sometimes she would stretch out her arms and the orange henna on her palms would heat the room like two reflecting suns. And then the almost sacred arrival of the bride, something of a sacrificial offering to the world, but also a moment of celebration for a family's most precious possession. Wrapped in layers of silk and gold, she seemed both weightless and worthy. We watched in silent awe, convinced that for this one night she was no longer the person we knew, but something else entirely - someone ethereal, untouchable.
Na-nay is an echo of that bittersweet feeling, an escapist moment in Afghan girlhood, set in Kabul in the early 90ies. Three silk scarves, soft as the memories they hold, bear the faces of women, stills of their own quiet transformations, and a screenshot from the future, a romantic gaze into the past when we were too young to make sense of it all. A reminder of the way we once looked at beauty - not to understand it, but simply to marvel at it.
