Als je de boosheid jegens het CDA overdreven vond (zij stemden vorige week tegen een verbod op ‘homogenezing’/conversietherapie, maar proberen zich wel te profileren als pro-LHBTQ+ partij door o.a. mee te varen bij Pride Amsterdam), of als je vindt dat een wet tegen ‘homogenezing’ overbodig is, lees dan ajb dit interview, en kijk het filmpje, met een van mijn liefste vrienden Wouter.
This is the most important and difficult piece I’ve ever written.
Content warning: suicide, depression, mention of eating disorder
In the past couple of years, I have conducted the BBC Philharmonic in concert and the Concertgebouw Orchestra in rehearsals, I have won and fulfilled one of the most coveted young conductor posts in the world (the Junior Fellowship at the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester), I have co-organised and officiated at the funerals of my father, my grandmother and my cousin, I’ve had a second coming out as pansexual, genderqueer and polyamorous, I’ve become somewhat of an activist regarding the damaging stigma associated with HIV and PrEP, and even managed to successfully move house several times. Yet, writing and sharing this text has, perhaps, been more challenging than any of these things. Continue reading “How I finally became Manoj”
As it is ‘Good Friday’, I wanted to share some brief thoughts about a specific moment in Willem Mengelberg’s recording of the Bach St. Matthew Passion. I don’t love all of the recording, but there are some amazingly beautiful moments and this is definitely my favourite.
It’s the tiny arioso Er hat uns allen wohlgetan just before the famous aria Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben. The moment I mean in particular happens near the end of the arioso.
‘Are you a girl or a boy?’ Whenever someone asked me this question before I was a teenager, my usual—sincere—answer was always ‘both equally’. Continue reading “Are you a girl or a boy?”
1998. A Saturday in December. 7.30 am, Colombo, Sri Lanka.
My first piano lesson with Sureka, at her house. Many more followed. She challenged me in many ways — my favourite was when after I’d had my first few piano lessons, she instructed me to accompany her flute playing from sight. She didn’t give me time to panic. Continue reading “A Saturday in December (in loving memory of Peter Kamps)”