Zenab Kazmi

کسے جگہ ملتی ہے Who Gets a Seat? 누가 자리를 얻는가?

Public Performance on Toronto Subway Line 2 in collaboration with Jean June

“This project began with a conversation. I (Zenab) had already chosen the TTC as my site, subtly thinking about the discomfort I often feel on public transit. During a class discussion, Jean shared an emotional moment about the rise in racism they had witnessed and experienced in Toronto. In that moment, I turned to Jean and asked, "Would you like to collaborate? “That’s where it all started!When we sat down to brainstorm, we knew we didn’t want this to be confrontational. Instead, we wanted to create a welcoming experience that flipped the power dynamic by inviting people in rather than pushing against them. We started talking about common stereotypes of South Asian and East Asian communities, and almost at the same time, I said, "Rice!" And Jean said, "Eating with our hands!" I suggested we incorporate a repeated dialogue, and Jean added, a phone conversation between a mother (living outside Canada) and her child (living in Canada), asking them if they were eating well. That feeling of care and nostalgia felt so real to us, so we moved forward from there.Who Gets a Seat? was a durational performance on the Toronto Line 2 subway. Our route was Dufferin to Woodbine and Woodbine to Kipling. We set up a red handwoven rug in front of three conjoined seats we chose; a red fringe-beaded curtain hanging from the horizontal pole above, matching TTC colours to blend in yet claim space, and a handmade hot pot filled with vegetable pulao, alongside kimbap. Our trilingual sign, written in Urdu, Korean, and English, read, "Come eat with us” along with the food menu. We provided disposable wooden cutlery and paper plates for others, but we ate with our hands as an act of quiet defiance and cultural grounding.We wore traditional clothing with a contemporary twist, took off our shoes on the rug, and sat with our legs folded on the seats. We spoke only in Urdu and Korean, repeating our prepared dialogue (never in English), allowing the performance to unfold beyond translation for those who did not understand our languages. Our presence was both an invitation and a disruption, a shift in the usual dynamics of transit, where people like us often feel the pressure to shrink, blend in, or disappear.Throughout the performance, we observed a range of reactions from commuters. Some were curious, taking photos and asking questions. One person asked if they could eat with us, and we made them a plate. Others observed from a distance. Towards the end, a commuter made disgusted faces, muttering racist remarks before leaving the train. We didn’t engage. Their reaction only proved why this performance needed to exist. At the end of our final route, we held hands, exchanged words in each other’s languages, and acknowledged the weight of what we had done. Overwhelmed with emotions, we hugged, stood up, bowed to the commuters, and disassembled everything.Performing Who Gets a Seat? was a transformative experience that challenged not only public perception but also our own relationship to visibility. For both of us, it was an act of quiet resistance, a statement of belonging, and most importantly, a refusal to be invisible.In a city where xenophobia and anti-Asian hate are on the rise, Who Gets a Seat? asks: Who is allowed to take up space? Who is welcome in public? Who gets to feel at home? Through our performance, for a moment, we made space for something different.The performance was documented through photos and videos taken by friends who rode with us. Apart from the documentation, we kept the used plates, cutlery, and food containers along with the rug and curtain. The real remnant, though, is the memory of those who witnessed it, whether they joined us, stayed silent, or turned away.”