Shameless Self-Promotion: My Own Take on a Fairy Tale

Although my self-determined March-as-fairy-tale-month has ended, I have one last related post...

Late last summer I saw a call for stories about villains, and what makes them tick. The anthology publisher focuses on fantasy, and at the time they were also soliciting manuscripts for modern takes on fairy tales.

Inspiration struck. My villain would be from a fairy tale, and I would tell his/her origin story.

I ran through some of my favorite fairy tales, then thought maybe I should focus not on the story but on the worst fairy tale villain I could think of. Child-eating witch in the woods? Done.

I gave my villain a name. I gave her a family and a home. I gave her hope and tragedy and a purpose in turning on townspeople who had so cruelly turned on her.

In the spirit of Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, I tried to create an unflinching look into the world of people trying to live a simple life while afflicted by complicated circumstances. And thankfully, the publisher accepted my story.

Now that anthology—The Heart of a Devil—is available on Amazon. 

It includes my story, "Adelinde's Last Supper." I hope you check it out!

Fairy Tale Flop

My plan was to continue to follow the Grimm Brothers around this part of Germany with a visit this week to Kassel, home of Grimmwelt (Grimm World). But travel schedules/costs and my recent new employment (more on that in an upcoming post) made that unfeasible.

Stall of lace goods which included some rabbits

On to the backup plan, then: an exploration of the “fairy tale” of Easter. What better way to see the trappings of the secular side of this upcoming holiday than to visit an Easter market, right?

Yesterday I took the train to Nuremberg, thinking their advertised market would be the Easter equivalent of their Christmas market.

Or, at a minimum, akin to the Easter market I went to a couple of years ago in Hamburg’s Museum for Ethnology.

It was neither.

Instead, it was essentially a regular market with a slight focus on this time of year. Meaning the usual household goods, weather-appropriate clothing and gear, spices, etc. Plus linen vendors displaying their Easter-related table runners, placemats, curtains and one or two vendors with a few hand-painted eggs in addition to their regular toys or collectibles.

Hand-painted egg I found
in the main market.

I had a little better luck in the small village of hand-worked goods between the main market square and the train station, but overall my Easter-themed fairy tale outing was a bust.

Hand-painted egg I found
in the Handwerk Hof.

Except in one regard. I did learn a tiny bit more about the numerous origin tales of the egg-toting, gift-giving Easter hare, as he’s known here.

The earliest mention seems to be in the 1500s, and the primary recurring theories are as follows:

* an amalgamation of symbols of fertility and the rebirth associated with spring;

* an association formed from farmers giving hares and eggs together as spring payments to landlords; or

* a representation of the companion of the pagan spring goddess for whom Easter was named. Supposedly she had to transform her companion from a bird into a hare, but because it was originally a bird it still produced eggs.

Spending time with the Easter bunny
in Hanau in 197

A couple of other theories attempt to make the secular aspects of Easter more sacred. 

Apparently some scholars believed hares were hermaphrodites and therefore associated their “virgin” reproduction with the Virgin Mary. 

And there was an Orthodox tradition of not eating eggs during Lent, boiling them so they would keep, then decorating them to celebrate the end of the fast.

I’m all for some rebirth and celebration right now. It’s been a beautiful winter, but with last night’s snowfall trying to dampen the cheer of sprouting crocuses, I’m hoping that the Easter hare’s visit in a couple of weeks brings spring to stay for good!

Following in the Footsteps of the Brothers Grimm: Marburg

Marburg is home to Philipps University, the 9^th oldest university in Germany and the one where the Grimm Brothers studied in the early 1800s.

But the purpose of my trip to Marburg was not to wander the hallowed halls of higher education for glimpses of the Grimms. My purpose was much more playful.

Marburg has what none of the other cities I’ve visited so far have—a fairy-tale trail within the town!

The Grimm-Dich-Pfad (Grimm-You-Path) takes you on a trip from the edge of New Town Marburg up into the Old Town of Marburg, highlighting 16 locations of art installations associated with Grimm fairy tales.

An Old Town street with a gentler slope

(And when I say “up” into Old Town, I mean it. That part of the city sits high on a hill, and it’s multilevel. There are actually two elevators to take visitors from the street in New Town up to the base level of Old Town! Sadly, I did not find the elevators until after I climbed back down from Old Town.)

The Frog King

The Pfad is reported to take two hours, which I thought strange considering how close the points appeared to be on the map. 

But it is a bit of a scavenger hunt. You have to not only be on the lookout for the artwork, but you have to navigate uneven, narrow, steep streets and lots of stairs while doing it.

Two-for-one: stairs with an excerpt from
one of Jacob Grimm's letters,
and Cinderella's slipper waiting up  at the top.

The Wolf and the Seven Little Goats

The Valiant Little Tailor

Having fun with the mirror
from Snow White and
the Seven Dwarves

Snow White and Rose Red

It was one of my most enjoyable day trips to date, and definitely comes up the winner so far for fairy-tale fun with the Grimm Brothers!

Following in the Footsteps of the Brothers Grimm: Steinau an der Strasse

Last week I told a new acquaintance I was going to visit the Grimm Brothers museum in Steinau, because I love fairy tales. I'm not sure what horrified her more--the fact that she feels the Grimm fairy tales are very dark in nature, or my assertion that I found that appealing.

After visiting Hanau last year, I thought I’d try to hit a few more stops on the German Fairy Tale Route. Some stops follow in the footsteps of the brothers, some are more about atmosphere and inspiration. Steinau seemed to be both.

Once you get into the old town. 

Because I did not have such a warm and fuzzy feeling when I got off the train (and it had little to do with the -11 Celsius temperature). I quickly checked a map at the station to confirm the route to the museum. Thankfully, the landscape improved greatly as I turned in the opposite direction and headed downhill.

Unfortunately, this industrial area across the train tracks smelled even worse than it looked.

A much more picturesque view and inviting start to my adventure!

The museum is in the house where the Grimm family lived while they were in Steinau, and includes some décor and the original kitchen so you get a small sense of their lives at the time. The first floor covers the family history and the brothers’ academic and linguistic work (they wrote the first comprehensive German dictionary, a multi-volume series that is on display).

Former Grimm home in Steinau, now home to the
Brüder Grimm-Haus museum

There's also a display devoted to younger brother Ludwig Emil, a talented artist who illustrated some of the early versions of his brothers' work.

The second floor is dedicated to the fairy tales, including a Little Red Riding Hood room, a room full of fairy-tale-inspired toys and paraphernalia, and a hallway and room highlighting opera and theater adaptations.

There’s also a small theater, a room where you can hear different fairy tales while wearing a crown/headset contraption, and my favorite: a room with two walls of built-in beautifully carved and painted dioramas where you guess which fairy tale is depicted in each scene.

(Unfortunately, the museum doesn't allow the public to take pictures, but there are some photos on this site you can scroll through).

















Later, I wandered around the grounds of the city's castle and down some of the narrow streets. Then I followed a path that represents where the old city wall used to stand. I tried to imagine how the area would appear through a child’s eyes.

When I came upon the witch tower and dunking cage, I thought back to the perception of the Grimm stories as dark and sometimes gruesome. When you read the original versions, many fairy tales are not so happily-ever-after. They served many purposes, but were never originally intended as tales for children. 

Instead, they conveyed real-life lessons in fantastical scenarios, and, in the case of the Grimms' early versions, veneration of the simple, good, and natural over all else.

When we face the ugliness and fear of everyday living—either to confront it or embrace it—it no longer has such power over us. I think that’s the lesson I have always taken from the stories the Grimm Brothers gave us. 

And even though more than 200 years have passed since the first publication of those tales, I think that lesson is still quite relevant for today's world.

Interior courtyard of the castle, where there's a plaque
on one wall depicting the Grimm Brothers...

Germany’s Contemporary Colorscape: Part III

My initial intent with this last post of the series was to talk about how Germany’s colonial and national socialist experiences helped shape its response to the refugee crisis and ongoing migration.

But there’s been an unending stream of news and opinion pieces on both sides of the fence over the past few years about the refugee situation: the welcoming, the hatred, the support, the blame, the integration, the isolation, the resentment.

A handful of success stories are being held up to counter the accusations about an increase in violent acts and anti-Semitism which are being attributed to refugees.

image from prx.org

The rhetoric is passionate and frightening and illuminating. At a couple of points over the past few weeks as I read and researched, I felt as though Germany was stuck in America circa 1950s in terms of race relations. Then I realized there’s no real comparison because the histories are so vastly different.

Once explorers and colonists arrived in the U.S., American racial diversity had begun. Native Americans, Africans, whites, Mexicans, Spaniards, there were plenty of shades to go around. Germany, meanwhile, had a population that was largely white until the early 20^th century.

While Americans have struggled (and continue to struggle) with the fallout of Native American massacres and relocations, enslaved Africans and their disenfranchised descendants, Chinese rail labor, and Japanese internment camps, Germany’s melting-pot woes have been comparatively brief and, though devastating, limited in scope.

This is not to pit one country's bad deeds against the other's, or to let Germany off the hook by any means. But it’s helpful for me to remember these different histories when I see articles that say Germans don’t “get” American racism or why blackface is a big deal or don’t understand that procedures they’ve described are, in fact, racial profiling, or assume every brown person they see is new to the country and without means.

All I can do is honor who I am and my history, learn from and try to affect the circle of people around me, and hope there’s a rippling effect.

I guess that’s all any of us can hope to do.

“For peace to reign on Earth, humans must evolve into new beings who have learned to see the whole first.” ― Immanuel Kant

This is my final post in honor of Black History Month, focusing on race and diversity in Germany. If you missed my previous posts, you can find them here:

• German Colonialism

• German Nationalism & The Question of Color

• Germany’s Contemporary Colorscape: Part I

• Germany’s Contemporary Colorscape: Part II

Germany’s Contemporary Colorscape: Part II

One night we were out to dinner with friends, chattering away in English about the difficulties with language and adjusting to the reserved German demeanor, when the woman at the next table began speaking to us.

She was originally from the Caribbean, but came here as a young woman to learn German to help the family business. She ended up staying and raising a family. Even though she had spent most of her life in Germany, she said she went “home” to visit the Caribbean periodically, because she had never felt accepted here.

Things are not always as "schoen"
as this curvy model casting call
would suggest

At the time I assumed her story was an exception. The nerdy, ever-hopeful American in me wanted to believe that if you worked hard enough you’d find your niche, no matter where you were.

Sometimes there are bigger challenges to overcome.

The German edition of The Local, an English-language European news outlet, has had several articles over the past year about systemic and specific instances of racism. I was surprised to find that many of them were not centered here in conservative southern Germany, but in supposedly hip and laid-back Berlin.

Berlin and Hamburg were both occupied after the war, and, as the first- and second-largest cities in Germany, have a larger percentage of Afro-Germans (an exact number is not known, because ever since the Holocaust census data does not include ethnicity or religion).

While Hamburg has the resources to address its changing population, Berlin--the one European capital that actually drags down the wealth of its country’s citizens--seems to have neither the funds nor the inclination to create one big happy family.

American Isaiah Lopaz confronts racism
in Berlin by wearing a series of t-shirts
with the questions people always ask him

With the rise of the right-wing AfD party, it’s not just the every-man who’s a target. Noah Becker, son of German tennis legend Boris Becker, is pressing charges against an AfD official who called him a “little half negro” on Twitter following Becker’s complaints about racism in Berlin.

Last year, UN experts determined there are “no-go” areas in Germany for blacks, such as Saxony (where even the state’s deputy leader admitted the police there had a problem with racism). 

The UN team's preliminary findings also suggested a lack of willingness by police to investigate racial violence and hate crimes. 

But it’s not just on the streets.There are also indications black children are disproportionately given grades that prevent them from pursuing higher education (here’s a quick video explaining how the German system works).

I think it’s telling that even though there‘s a group called Schwarze Menschen in Deutschland (Black People in Germany), who are supposed to promote the presence of contributions of Afro-Germans, my searches for Black History Month events in Germany came up with few options, and of those, 99% were focused on some aspect of American black history.

So I’m left wondering exactly who’s going to stand up and carve out that much-needed niche for this overlooked segment of the population? And how does the recent refugee situation further complicate the German colorscape?

Germany’s Contemporary Colorscape: Part I

It’s hard enough to know what lens to view yourself through as an expat. As I mentioned in a post on another blog, sometimes your enthusiasm about being open and non- judgmental of your adopted culture leaves you vulnerable.

But race adds another complicating dimension.

I only had a few reservations about moving to Munich, and most had to do with incidents of violence or discrimination against recent immigrants and other people of color that seemed to be based in southern Germany.

Despite Hamburg’s reserved demeanor, it turned out to be pretty liberal. Munich, by contrast, is more open, but also more conservative.

That's me in the background,
my sister in the foreground,
when we lived in Hanau

When I lived in Germany as a kid, I started school here and I spoke German, but outside of our military base surroundings I think we were uncommon. My mother told me of a time she took us to a city here in southern Germany, and people on the street would approach us with some amount of awe and rub our skin(!).

These days, in my second go-round living in Germany, I have a lifetime of experiences that make me both sensitive to, and more dismissive of, potentially “racial” situations.

Shortly after we moved here, I had been running some errands and just got back into the apartment when the main door buzzer sounded. I hit the intercom and could barely make out what the speaker was saying, but I did hear the word Afrikanerin (African woman) with a question mark after it. 

I said nein and hung up. Knowing that I am the only black person living in my building, there really was no best case scenario I could come up with to make me want to engage in further conversation/clarification.

As you know from past posts I’ve done a lot of traveling around. And on only one route—a train trip to and from Italy—did I feel profiled. On both legs of the trip, border agents entered the car on the opposite side of where I was sitting, so I had time to observe and play a little guessing game.

They clearly weren’t checking all passports, so who would they choose? I guessed correctly when, in a train car of approximately 50 people, they only checked passports for me and a multiracial Spanish family on the trip down and me and a large Middle Eastern family on the trip back.

There are other things I’m quicker to dismiss, like when we first moved in and a man in the lobby turned to stare as Larry and I walked past. I chalked it up to the fact that we were new residents in a private building, since people down here have little compunction about staring (definitely not a racial thing, I have other anecdotal evidence about the staring).

And there is our landlady’s nervous fascination with me. The few times we’ve met in person she seems painfully eager to communicate with me, but I chalk that up to her knowing Larry speaks no German and, as a psychologist, her desire to learn more about her expat tenants.

On the streets, non-German speakers seek me immediately for help in English. Yet most of the time when I go somewhere people assume I speak German or ask if I would prefer German or English rather than assuming. 

(Most of the time. There are definitely some museums where I’m greeted in English and they’re already pushing the English brochure or map on me rather than asking.)

Although the Fasching costumes
I saw were a little more homemade-
looking than this one, this is the image 
for a costume currently for sale 
on Amazon.de

On Tuesday, I went downtown to see the dances and celebration for the last day of Fasching. As I was leaving, I happened to glance over at a stall in the Viktualienmarkt blaring “We Will Rock You.” I saw three or four people dancing and was so shocked by their costumes I kept walking until I could process what I had seen.

I felt like I had after a visit to the Museum of the Five Continents last year. Most of the museum was not a learning tool--more a display of “oddities” and exoticism. In the exhibit on Africa, accompanying text implied Africans might not have created art just for arts’ sake, like other cultures did.

Unbelievable. Just like those full-body-blackface primitives/savages stereotypes I saw out on the street.

Yesterday, in stark contrast, I saw a new Meetup for reading and discussing African literature to promote a better recognition and understanding of African art and contributions. Probably not a coincidence that it appeared on the day Black Panther premiered, but I was heartened that most of the members so far are white.

The fact that I tick something in this column or that column and try to tally and wonder whether I’m too sensitive or too forgiving is not new. It’s simply muddled by the fact that I’m not on my home turf where I know the racial history and the attitudes and the rules of engagement.

On the whole, my personal experiences as a person of color in Germany have been positive. I think there are many factors contributing to that, one of which may, in fact, be some rose-colored glasses. 

But in my next post, I’ll take a look at incidents and experiences for other folks that have not been as positive.