gegen skin

Skin is not a boundary. It is where bodies begin to speak. It breathes, sweats, scars, stretches. It remembers. It absorbs sunlight, pigment, poison, shame, desire. It tells stories before we speak.

Skin is the surface where identity is assigned, and refused. Where race is projected. Where gender is policed. Where beauty standards bruise and borders are drawn. And yet, skin remains ungovernable. It flakes, it regenerates, it cracks open to let something new leak through.

To live visibly in your skin, as trans, as racialized, as fat, disabled, scarred, marked, wrinkled, inked, is an act of resistance. To demand space for your skin to exist without justification, to touch and be touched without fear, is revolutionary.

Skin is political.

It holds the weight of gazes, stares, surveillance, but also softness, warmth, friction, breath. It’s not neutral. It’s a manifesto in flesh. Your skin speaks before your mouth does, and it speaks louder on the dance floor, where sweat becomes communion and contact is code.

In a world that tries to sanitize, discipline, and commodify the body, GEGEN SKIN is a refusal. A refusal to be smoothed out, streamlined, or sterilized. Here, the dancefloor is where we molt. Where skins rub raw and real. Where flesh doesn’t behave, it pulses, presses, defies. Where the queer, the unruly, the untouchable become touch itself. To show skin is not to reveal, it is to revolt.

This is where we meet,

photo courtesy of Florian Hetz
graphics & logo by Enrico Bardin

GEGEN SKIN

Stay updated

Thank you!