10 July 2025
In the world of settler colonialism, of plantation societies generally, one might instead define the state as a monopoly on gathering—on the conditions under which social beings can enact and partially realize their already-entangled existence through gathering. All the way from shopping to protest, the state has its ways to monopolize gathering. In this context, a way to think of the undercommons is as the ongoing practice of gathering not sanctioned by the state. Its location or its place is continuously made by that act of gathering—an act of gathering is repeatedly disallowed.
Thus, gathering is always a revision, a rehearsal, or a practice, a repetition with difference.
We are inevitably broken in our practice of gathering because we are forbidden from practicing it… The undercommons is that radically open place, the place where we insist on open access in the face of vicious abuse of that access. It’s a place where we are rehearsing our own muscles, our own imagination around gathering, around being together— which sounds strange because we are already together. It is a question of whether we get to affirm that, or whether we are always going to be forced to operationalize it under the state’s monopoly. The state, or state-capital, wants us to get together in all kinds of ways, but only under its terms.”
Working, existing, and imagining across different African geographies, we are called through various themes to assemble. Every thread, held in the many different hands of the Building Beyond cohort, is different. In coming together, in assembling through izimbizo –– online and in person –– we weave, tighten, and loosen threads of our entanglement. We thread together concerns, desires, and urgencies across our geographies to better understand the fibres of those threads. In gathering, we formed a space premised on presence, giving room for resonance (tightening), discontent (loosening), confusion (looping), and intimacy (weaving).
Imbizo in isiZulu means gathering.
If we are to think of izimbizo when we reflect on the character of our gathering, we do so not only as an attempt to bring modes of expression to the exchange(s) we encountered, but also to critically reflect, foreground, and highlight the significance of gathering and assembling outside of dominant systems and embedded in the work and practices of the cohort.
In using izimbizo as a cue to reflect on the recurring and weighty themes present in the group and prompted by the programme, we echo the work of Fred Moten and Stefano Harney in recognising that we, as African creative and spatial practitioners, are in the process of designing the terms of own gathering.
The etymology of the word imbizo comes from biza, meaning to call or to summon; and this accurately conveys our own entry points to the programme: a gathering that we, in various ways, summoned, or manifested. Our unconditional commitment to our creative practices was one of the voices that called us to this space, catalysing a unique constellation of hands and threads. . The Building Beyond programme, through the provision of space, resources, and care, allowed us to respond to this call, and continue to expand our creative practices.
Izimbizo tends to occur in an open environment, in a circular formation where everyone is given a chance to share their thoughts (but is not obliged to do so), and where everyone has the right to speak without interruption. The pace, speed, and duration of the imbizo is not defined. A resolution comes at the end, and the end defines itself.
Or perhaps we might think of Jack Halberstam’s opening words in his preface to The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study, writing:
“It ends with love, exchange, fellowship. It ends as it begins, in motion, in between various modes of being and belonging, and on the way to new economies of giving, taking, being with and for and it ends with a ride on the way to another place altogether.”
Within the Building Beyond programme, izimbizo unfolded differently, as a consequence of the people who formed it. imbizo is both a mechanism of engagement as well as a manifestation of it. In this sense, we propose to advance an understanding of imbizo, and suggest that its spatiality is malleable, and its outcome is always determined by those who occupy it. In this case, during the programme, izimbizo were consciously formed in public (open) environments, while at other times, it was only available to the cohort. It was astonishing and inspiring to see how frequent the notion of collectivity emerged in the practices of the participants and mentors.
Our existence –– or what is often misconstrued as a linear path – as an indefinite place from where we are operating, has been a guiding thread in our entanglement.
We situate ourselves in a state of being alive and a state of refusal where we believe in our continued existence and venture to develop and fulfill our aspirations as creative practitioners, in hopes of designing conditions that are emotionally and materially stable and joyful.
Joy is a survival mechanism in this sense. This joyful energy drives the urgency we have for action, for change, for evolution, for life!
In coming together, we’re acknowledging that our contemporary practices are built upon generations of African knowledge systems that have operated and continue to operate outside of sovereign systems. We are a part of it.
In coming together, we’re sharing resources and knowledge systems that have been carried in our mouths and not in books, to learn about our environments about ourselves, and that were previously disregarded in the designing of our environments.
In coming together, we’re forming a space for discontent. ( For us, this is a safe space where we can get on with it, without risking our lives, and follow a path towards that desired state of joyful existence.
In coming together, we’re forming izimbizo, together, for one another, which is only possible by being present and affirming our gathering.
These are some terms.
