Exclusion at the Transeuropa Festival.

September 15, 2024.

Good morning! I'm still preoccupied with yesterday's situation. What I did after the two women confronted me aggressively was freeze and then flee. I simply escaped to the dance floor. One thing I should never do in such heated situations, according to Martin Wehrle, is to react in the typical ways: fleeing, freezing, or fighting. The other thing I didn’t handle well was trying to justify myself to the organizers. Again and again, I attempted to clarify the situation factually, especially the question of why the TransEurope Festival, which is supposed to include all people, excluded me without further hearing or discussion—just because two women read a few polarizing diary entries of mine that they didn’t like. Why is their well-being considered when it has nothing to do with the party itself, while my well-being, which was also affected by the two, doesn’t count? Why is their well-being considered more valuable than mine? Just because they were the first to approach the Awareness Team?

I was registered for the cultural breakfast at 10:00 AM. For a moment, I had doubts about whether I should even go. It felt like I had to leave a huge comfort zone because I was afraid of encountering those women again, who had attacked me unfoundedly. But then I thought of Martin Wehrle and his book, which says I shouldn’t flee as my instinct demands but rather go and stand by my diary and what it contains. I firmly believe that I haven't done anything wrong and haven’t discriminated against any woman. If that were the case, the women involved could approach me and explain it to me factually. I am always willing to delete the relevant passages or reconsider my viewpoint regarding the "overstepping." And so I made my way barefoot to the St. Jakobi Literature House.

It’s quite cool outside, but the warm rays of the sun make the cold on the bare skin of my feet pleasant. I am even willing to consume gluten-containing and caffeinated things at breakfast. But I certainly won’t avoid the cultural breakfast!

In front of the literature house, I check in and go inside. Right in the foyer, I am warmly greeted by the organizers of the art exhibition. I turn left toward the laid table and look around. There are noticeably fewer people than yesterday. An older woman approaches me and asks in broken German if my feet aren't cold. I met the friendly, always smiling woman for the first time yesterday at the closing party. We danced together briefly at the party.

I saw the man from yesterday who had thrown me out of the closing party. I approached him and said that I would write an email and would like to read a written statement from the organizers regarding this.

This time he was not so friendly towards me (at least that’s what I felt) when he said that he did not want to discuss it now.

I felt a slight anger rise within me again as he then walked away after that sentence. I got myself a cup of coffee and a bit of porridge with apple. I sat down on the floor next to a low little table and ate. The organizer went somewhere else.

Shortly afterwards, the woman from the art exhibition and a woman from the Awareness Team approached me and asked me to leave the literature house. They had been informed that I was not welcome here and therefore needed to go.

“Alright, I’ll finish my porridge and then I’ll leave,” I replied in a very relaxed voice. This time I was able to control my emotions, respond factually, and remain calm.

I ate the porridge calmly, finished the coffee, and left the literature house with my head held high. During this, I thought of a saying from the art exhibition, which I whispered softly to myself: “And our hearts become lighter the closer our heads get to the sky.”

I'm not a coward, nor am I someone who runs away from problems. In fact, I'm quite glad this situation happened to me at this moment. It comes at the perfect time after reading Martin Wehrle's book, allowing me to practice what I've learned.

So, I walked home to get Martin Wehrle's book and then drove to Borsum. I wanted to talk to my mother and find out what she thought about the situation. I want to flip through Martin Wehrle's book again, as the knowledge is too valuable to fade from my long-term memory.

During brunch with my mother, I explained to her what happened. Although she was worried that something might happen to me, she understood that I filed a report and sent an email to TransEuropa seeking a statement regarding the incident. We also talked about her and Julien. Unfortunately, she hasn't been able to break up with him and feels trapped in a hamster wheel of dependency and love.

Additionally, I finally managed to remove the splinter from the sole of my foot that had been causing pain while walking barefoot. I got the splinter on my way to the PocoLoco Festival. I disinfected the area, slightly scraped the skin, and cut off a piece of the sole. Pus came out, and the splinter was visible. I used tweezers to take it out, and Mom put a bandage on it.

Back in Hildesheim. I talked on the phone with Julia for 80 minutes. It felt good to hear from her again and discuss what has been on our minds, as well as some small talk about anime, the Bible, books, and so on. I really like her. She said that after our last meeting, she felt uplifted because we had such a good conversation. That brought a smile to my face.

I also gave her the web address of my diary so she could check it out. I really hope it doesn't scare her off like it does some other people. With that in mind: Good night! 🙏

It's 23:10. I woke up because I urgently needed to pee. I had a chaotic dream, and I can only remember fragments. I was in the car with Grandpa Jura. Mom was sitting behind me. We were looking for a lost dog and driving through various paths. It was rather dark outside, maybe evening.

I got out and shouted, "Mara!" because she had gotten out of the car before. She turned around and said to me that she would continue to search for her love. Suddenly, she didn't recognize me anymore. She was cheerful and seemed like she was on drugs, hopping around.

There were dream scenes where I crossed streets as if I were in a huge underground parking garage.

I climbed a ladder to a bed that was nailed to the wall. There were people on the bed asking for my help to fight the flying girls. There were large wooden blocks that you could stand on to go further up. I brought the blocks to the bed so the flying girls couldn't climb up. But it didn't help. The flying girls managed to get up. They conquered us on the bed (whom exactly?). I still remember that I kissed a man on the bed who was somehow one of the flying girls. After the kiss, gray glitter powder came out of his nose. I felt like a flying girl too. And then I woke up. Phew. What a chaotic dream. Good night again! 😅

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