S for Saskia, in Silence = Death

In May-June 2023, eight participants took part in the first ever Online Creative Residency from Europeana’s Digital Storytelling Festival. They worked with mentors in animation, social media stories and new writing relating to LGBTQ+ culture and communities. Tonya Atanakova's fictional story 'S for Saskia, in Silence = Death', is inspired by a gallery she created from Europeana collections. Read her story and find out more about Tonya below.

S for Saskia, in Silence = Death

May 19th, 1983, Thursday

The morning sun sneaks through the curtains and casts a warm light on my bed. As I try to wake up, Tommy’s purring reaches my ears. He is lying behind me on the bed, a ginger ball of fur. I stretch out to pet him and he promptly stretches out in contentment. I don’t like getting up in the morning, but I love the tranquillity of the early hours. My thoughts wander freely, without the momentum of the previous days and the protests.

In recent weeks, my mind has been constantly in an offensive state. I can’t stand still. There are so many people doing nothing to help or prevent it. This is a crisis. And yet it remains an unspoken topic. None of those who have a voice address it. Or if they do talk, they mock it. That’s why I go out of my way to raise as much awareness and noise as I can.

During my last visit to the clinic, Eddie laughed so hard at my jokes about President Reagan and Flashdance, even though it made him cough uncomfortably. He told me I brighten his day with my stand-up comedy. His laughter brightened mine. Eddie, a black man in his 40s with a strong jawline and vibrant personality, is one of my greatest supporters in my stand-up adventures and serves as the litmus test for any joke I write. It goes through him first before I tell it on stage. Alas, I forgot the coffee on the stove again.

My breakfast passed in these thoughts. I glanced at the pile of posters in the corner of the room. Lying unfinished on the floor, with pink triangles and the slogan "Silence = Death" all over them. I made a mental note to finish them after the stand-up show. The protest is on Saturday, and today is Thursday. I have time. I swiftly get dressed and I check myself in the mirror, a quintessential portrait of a lesbian activist. The tousled shoulder-length tresses, the rings on my fingers, the black leather jacket. Only the blue pin with the pink triangle bearing the words I’m a lady lover was lacking. I put it on too.

I head to the clinic, straight to the HIV/AIDS ward. The patients come alive when I show up because they know I will shower them with my comedic repertoire. But, this time, there’s silence and a noticeable absence. Eddie is nowhere to be seen, his bed occupied by a stranger. My gaze shifts towards Frank in the neighbouring bed. His warm eyes convey what happened. I can’t hold my tears back and Frank extends his hand in solace. I grasp it tightly. I notice that his blond hair seems to have lost its former lustre slightly more. And his pale complexion bears more heavily the weight of his illness it seems. We keep silent for a while.

An hour later, I know that the stranger in Eddie’s bed is called Linda and all the intricacies of her life story. Linda, a transsexual, found the freedom to be herself in New York in 1979. She got diagnosed last year. Linda has a 10-year-old daughter whom she hasn’t had contact with since then. Her mother completely severed all ties after learning about it, proclaiming, “It is contagious, and you shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

As Linda talks about her relationship with her daughter, her gaze is fixated upon some obscure point in the distance. She speaks confidently and her movements are fluid and deliberate. But the guilt weighs heavily on all of her despite her innocence. I hug her and tell her “I am sure you will reunite with her when they find the cure for this.” Linda looks at me tenderly with her long lashes, albeit tinged with a hint of “don’t fool me, girl, I know I am doomed”. I tell her about my little sister and how much I miss her. And why I haven’t seen her since she was 10. And how now she should be 15. “Our parents said it was in the interest of her well-being for her to be shielded from the potential contagion of my homosexuality.” Curious, Linda asks me about my age. “Twenty-one,” I respond; “Oh, Saskia, my dear child,” she exclaims and embraces me.

Many turn their backs on the suffering around them. And yet, it hurts the most when it's your own family. People with HIV/AIDS are more than statistics. They are victims of a society that seeks our erasure and willfully ignores the problem. Because it is the disease of homosexuals. How convenient. But this crisis does not only affect us. It will become clear in the end that this is a human crisis, not just for our marginalised society.

I filled their ears with my stand-up sketch. I rehearsed my entire repertoire with them a couple of times. I love their laughter.

About the author

Who am I?

Hey there, allow me to introduce myself - Tonnie, a creative force with many ideas, fueled by coffee and a passion for putting my imagination in words, or visuals. Hindered by ADHD and time blindness only. And the limits of the human condition.

I ventured into the realm of storytelling first by studying Cinema and Television Arts at New Bulgarian University, where I fell hopelessly in love with long-form media, such as TV and web series, and transmedia storytelling. My professional journey began actually as a Content Marketer. Currently I have found myself in the world of Performance Marketing, which has its daily challenges that I enjoy analysing and solving. Yet, my true calling never wavers and in every spare moment, my creative spirit is crafting stories and characters.

Sometimes I do photography and I am in the process of developing a web series project based in Southeast Europe as a screenwriter. And when the opportunity arises, I lend my communication and organisational skills to Sofia Meetings, the industry side of the Sofia International Film Festival.

Why did I apply to the Digital Storytelling Online Creative Residency?

I saw storytelling and immediately applied. I hoped participating would give me a clearer path ahead and a streak of inspiration and motivation to persist. And it did all of that for me.

What have I got out of the residency?

A new source of inspiration and purpose to keep telling the stories that I think should be told. And the motivation to keep up my efforts in what I do.

Storytelling, for me personally, is a balance between inspiration and imagination. For this project, I have drawn inspiration from Europeana collections to create galleries that inspired the characters. Then I let them tell me their stories. The goal is to take the reader on a kaleidoscopic journey through time and explore the complexities of identity and love for LGBTQIA+ people.

One of the most exciting aspects for me is the range of styles I want to try within each story. I have sought to showcase the versatility of short fiction literature as an art form. This format was a decision of mine to challenge me as a writer and also to keep the reader engaged and hopefully excited throughout the entire project, as they discover new voices and perspectives with each new story.

I hope this project inspires you to embrace character-driven storytelling, as well as promote empathy and acceptance, regardless of gender, gender identity or sexual orientation.

Where might I go from here?

Keep your eyes peeled, as this project has just begun and I intend to expand it across as many art mediums as I can, with collaboration. Also, feel free to draw in any kind of inspiration from it for any art medium.

As we move forward with this project, I hope that you will spread the word about the work here to others who might be interested.

Moreover, if anyone would like to collaborate on crafting any of the other stories - follow me on Instagram: @atanakova.