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Viele werden sie kennen: die Werbespots von Airbnb aus dem Frühjahr 2022. Dort tauchen wir in „Airbnb Stories“ ein. Wir begleiten glückliche Urlauber:innen, sehen privat anmutende Fotos und hören stimmungsvolle Musik. Die authentischen Urlaube, die hier beworben werden, sind „made possible by Hosts“. Diese Hosts treten in den Werbespots aber gar nicht direkt in Erscheinung. Einzig kleine Grußkärtchen geben einen Hinweis auf sie, im Obstkorb oder bei der Einwegkamera als Begrüßungsgeschenk. Die Gäste, die wir sehen, residieren in eleganten Stadtwohnungen, sonnigen Villen oder gemütlichen Ferienhäusern. Diese Urlaube „made possible by Hosts“ scheinen wenig damit zu tun zu haben, dass jemand ab und zu ein kurzzeitig leerstehendes Zimmer oder eine Wohnung über Airbnb vermietet.

In the South Korean metropole of Seoul, queer people have been increasingly pushing their way into the public sphere for more than two decades. The Seoul Queer Culture Festival, for example, has made it to the forecourt of the city hall against quite a bit of resistance, and the first neighborhood pride event took place in the Mapo district in 2022. Sung Un Gang, a member of subproject B03, is interested in such space-appropriating changes in the LGBTQ movement. He is not only interested in already well-documented processes, but also in how queer people create new spaces and recode old ones through quite mundane everyday actions.

As ontological or theoretical insight, methodological approach, analytical perspective, ethical standpoint and political praxis, intersectionality has shed light on how the entanglements of different regimes of power (sex/gender, race, ethnicity, age, class, etc.) shape experiences, processes of becoming and social relations. However, can intersectionality also address questions of space and geography? Why is it so important to bring together intersectionality and spatiality? How can we research intersectionality in political geography? This blogpost constitutes an attempt to answer all these queries drawing from the observed potential of intersectionality to delve into personal (and political) situated experiences of mobility through space.

On 20th-21st of October the CRC 1265 held its fourth international conference, this year titled “My City is a Battleground – Intersectionality and Urban Violence”. After two years of COVID restrictions, we could finally meet in person again, which in itself provided a cause for celebration as participants pleased to mingle with new as well as familiar faces. This year’s theme followed up on the CRC’s interest in socio-spatial conflicts, looking at the way intersectional tensions accompany processes of urban spatial refiguration. Taking its inspiration from decades of research on social inequality, class struggles, migration, violence as well as from intersectional feminist work, the conference turned its attention to intersectional experiences of violence and the way conflicts manifest intersectionally in and through urban space.

The environmental movement of Turkey has three decades of history. A culture of resistance was transferred from the first women's ecological resistance that attracted attention in the Bergama peasant movement to today's struggling women.[1] One of the areas of resistance discussed in this article is the Mount Ida (Kazdağları) Resistance, which is one of the most reported ecological struggles in the press in recent years in Turkey. [2]  Global companies came to this significant area, within the borders of Turkey's Marmara and Aegean regions, to search for gold with cyanide and destroy some regions with the state's approval. Resistance temporarily stopped the destruction and cutting of trees in the area.

Access to the internet has long been considered as essential as water and electricity supply; the UN declared online communication a human right several years ago. But despite its enormous social importance, not much is known about the administrative infrastructure behind it, i.e. who exactly controls the infrastructure of the net and what kind of ideas guide them. The subproject B02 “Control/Space” wants to change that, as project member René Tuma explains.

The mystery surrounding the harem has resulted in rumors of what life behind its high walls actually looks like. Images of beautiful women, sexual pleasure, endless overindulgence have been projected over the reality of this strictly maintained gendered space. It’s easy to dismiss its existence as an example of archaic gender boundaries which have no place in the 21st century. But why? By delving into historical reactions to the harem, we can explore how gendered spaces are constructed and how this bears on our understanding of “freedom”.

The far-right and anti-Muslim organization SIAN has repeatedly staged demonstrations as well as public Qu’ran-burnings in Norwegian cities in recent years. In August 2020, the organization held a demonstration at the Furuset center, which includes a subway station, a shopping center, a branch of the city library and the district administration. Furuset is part of and the central place in Alna municipal district in Oslo. In this area the population is shaped by migration, religious diversity, and socio-economic challenges. This blog post discusses how local people reacted to the demonstration and how, in the process, local identities and spaces were intersectionally negotiated, defended, and created.