By: Gili Hoxhaj
Light starts at one point and travels through the entire body—a body that burns day after day. A body utterly unvalued. It transforms into a robotic shell. A voice resonates beyond. The artists on stage struggle, slowly—swallowing a reality that pierces through torn, fragmented images. These visuals multiply, reduced to mere numbers. Yet through their voices, these experiences emerge as individual stories.
“Silent Voices” became voices that are heard, stories that are read, on the second evening of FemArt 13, held under the theme “Free Your Mind.”
The images, carefully intertwined by Biloura Intercultural Arts Collective, directed by Angie Rottensteiner (Austria) and Chiara Bosco (Italy), prompt deep reflection. They collaborated on dramaturgy and vocal design, weaving a piece addressing the sexual exploitation of women. This performance challenges everything you thought you knew—forcing a hard look at biases we may have unknowingly held.
Performers Yunjung Kim, Silvia Ribero, and Julienne Schembri become embodiments of stories that the “silent voices” carry. Their movements betray pain as much as strength.
“Prostitution is not entirely an individual experience, but a collective one,” is the first voice that arises, drawing attention to the chapters unfolding.
“I believe the sex trade exploits the vulnerable and institutionalizes exploitation. It’s happening all over the world,” comes another voice, its interruption reflecting the global scope of the issue.
This phenomenon, rooted in patriarchal systems, is neither purely individual nor societal—it is global. Currently, around 40–42 million people are impacted worldwide.
The collective creative process brought together artists from Europe and Asia, and included testimonies from women in Africa, Latin America, Asia, and Europe. The result: an intercultural reflection without offering definitive answers—a five-year research journey uncovering shared threads in this complex issue.
Director Angie Rottensteiner explains:
“Our aim was to raise questions and awareness around the sex industry and to connect global phenomena. We interviewed many women—former prostitutes, social workers, lawyers. We gathered all their voices, and these are the voices we used.”
In Kosovo, the performance resonated deeply with audiences, eliciting meaningful discussions:
“Here, we had the chance to meet people from KFOR forces, NGOs, the Minister of Justice, and lawyers. We believe they understood the purpose of this performance and were very willing to guide us and discuss this issue within Kosovo,” she added.
Grounded in real testimonies, the voices present prostitution as an unfortunate necessity. Worldwide income from prostitution is valued at approximately $186 billion. But contrary to myth, sex workers do not truly profit.
Scenes in the performance explore childhood abandonment and the desperation of job offers that seem too good to be true—unless you consider what’s being sold is dignity. One performer began sex work at 14 and exited at 28. She recounts feeling like a cog in an unfeeling machine: “Honestly, you wouldn’t treat your own dog like that,” she says, her voice now hollow. “When a client hits you, you just have to take it.” These are shattered voices—dehumanized, left empty by men, money, poverty, and a crushing lack of hope.
“One guy would come home pissed at his wife, and he would vent on us. That means we are just objects,” one narrative concludes—shedding light on the disturbing entitlement that some clients feel, and how sex workers are expected to placate them.
On average, a sex worker may see seven clients per day—meaning over ten years, possibly 25,000 men. “Imagine 25,000 men in one room,” the performer challenges, as visuals reinforce the emotional weight behind the statistic.
Chiara Bosco, the dramaturg, describes the project as giving a stage to voices no one wants to hear:
“This was a six-year process—six years of travel, exploring different regions, meeting different realities. I think it’s wonderful we brought it here. It’s a new opening on this issue.”
She adds that the performance deeply impacts audiences, creating a moment for reflection.
The performance shares stories of years lost, the absence of private space, subservience that benefits someone else. One character ends at the brink of suicide, revealing how unspoken truths can suffocate a person.
“I’d only change over my dead body”—says one voice, and by sharing her pain she finds a certain release.
“We could have been her,” it echoes—leaving you unsettled as the applause follows a harsh truth. It is a reality no one truly wants to follow.
The final chapter is about healing—and each of us can take a step toward it by being more understanding and less judgmental. We learn how vital it is that every voice is heard.
