The feminist band Pussy Riot’s brave activism and performance art has inspired women all over the world to use their voices to stand up to oppression. Even after a two-year prison sentence, band co-founder Maria Alyokhina continued to speak out against injustice. W4C Director of Conservation, Isabella Cortes Lara, reflects upon meeting the incredible Maria Alyokhina and learning of her battle to resist Russian oppression.
September 21, 2022
An exposition in the Gulbenkain that broke the silence of the starry night. My very first experience here. I, of course, went alone. No expectation and oblivious to the grandeur of what was to come. The Show began with the introduction of each member of Pussy Riot, each one incredibly jarring and unique. Maria Alyokhina, commands respect. The sheer power in their stance was jaw dropping. The percussionist had an ankle fracture from a previous show in Germany, yet still came on stage with crutches and upheld the beat of the night like a warrior ushering in an army.
The show begins slowly, to tell a tale of artistry and anguish. Pussy Riot stands in a row, each individual vastly different from the next yet connected by the energy. Their faces covered with colorful ski masks, the flute player wearing an elaborate bullet proof vest decorated with cute baby animals and Kawai decor, underneath a neat white dress similar to an oversized men’s button down shirt. Maria, at the center, wears a white lace dress symbolizing purity, and a large cross that sways between her breasts at every movement. The singer at her right, with blue piercing eyes and jet black hair was wearing a black short dress, defiant black boots and ripped fishnet tights. All of their hair wild and free, like lion’s manes that can not be tamed. Behind Pussy Riot is a massive screen, starts off black and comes to life in crimson red. Words begin to bombard the scene, PUSSY RIOT, as they begin to increase the intensity of the music. Each phrase is poetic and dark, reliving a festering reality that only those who lived it truly understood. We take it as poetry. A shell of what the real substance is.
Each scene sends shooting electricity through my body. At one point I had no other choice than to sit on the ground in meditation pose in the front row in order to digest the vast quantities of emotion and vibration that they were emitting. Tears streamed down my face when she spoke about her life being taken from her for 40 seconds of music and dance. For singing a un-Orthodox song in a church. Something that seems so innocent in the grand scheme of things, there are politicians who have stolen the equivalent of universities of wealth that would never face the wrath of the government as this woman did for dancing and singing in a cathedral.
Then I ponder myself, and how unapologetically I strive to be Isabella. In all of her freedom. How in so many ways, it is controversial to exist for me and for many women that think and move through life like me. How our very existence, our crying out for change could mean the very violation of our freedom.
“For Freedom, yours and mine.” Is one of the moments during the entire voyage of this experience that impacted me the most.
The entire rest of the audience were alien to me, as far as I was concerned it was only me, the Screen and Pussy Riot. I was overwhelmed with the feeling of pain throughout my entire sphere of consciousness. I let my head hang and my hair sway, becoming entrenched in tears as they let out their primal screams into the night. My soul cried that night. It was not physical, it was vibrational. We locked eyes in the exact moment when the Phrases of the screen spoke about Tears. I was only just a mere child in her theater, sitting in to see her and not understand the deep chasms of moments she had to live through in the years that had gone by since that day. 21/2/12 was the day that unleashed this cascade of energy. 40 seconds, like the 40 days that has biblical significance. Numerology moves us in mysterious ways, a reflection of divinity. I couldn’t believe the perfection.
Her gaze was so dominant and powerful that I could not sustain it. I looked away, longing for there to be a different tomorrow for my sisters. At one moment in the performance, she steps down from the stage and into the public, she crosses in front of me, her aura so strong it gives me chills, she could single handedly part the sea.
She speaks about her hunger strikes, the plank of wood she slept on, the psychological torture, each pulling you into a darker abyss. The light at the end is the art that she transmits that we pupils may use as a reference to stand our ground and cultivate courage.
I Pray For our humanity as the show comes to a halting end. She spoke about what was to be the darkest time in history for Russian and Ukrainian people. I believe her.
