hold on to her

Suppose one decides to remove the words "migrant" and "refugee" from the dictionary. Everyone has to find alternative formulations from now on. What new worlds and images of thought emerge then? Will the world look different if we pause to adjust our language and thinking? On 17 May 2018, a Belgian police officer shot dead Mawda Shawri during a border check. In hold on to her, artist, filmmaker and researcher Robin Vanbesien holds up not only police and other institutional violence, but also the far-reaching and violent dehumanisation that accompanied the two-year-old girl's death in the news.

Based on some 20 interviews with homeless activists and other solidarity workers, the film's soundtrack unravels storylines from the news, personal testimonies and legal documents in multiple languages. In images, we see different people coming together. There, unlike in the wider public debate, people do listen attentively, to each other and to the reports. The calm exchanges move precisely where institutional justice fails. The impossibility of obtaining justice through traditional channels necessitates the creation of an alternative. Whether that should be a people's tribunal or a circle discussion, the film leaves that open.

8mm and 16mm film footage of Belgian roads lend a meditative rhythm to the reports, with the drab asphalt providing the adequate mood but also requiring a return to the scene of the act. It is a simple and delicate set-up that allows for pause and adjustment. Vanbesien and co treat the painful subject with great care, as evidenced by the deliberate choice to write the film title in lower-case letters. hold on to her is a film that makes room for mourning processes in a society where they receive too little attention. More than that, Vanbesien's approach and film language turn the filmmaking itself into a collective mourning process. in fact, hold on to her creates the necessary space to do exactly what the title indicates: hold on to little Mawda for a while longer.