Martinique: Photographer Adeline Rapon celebrates Afro-Caribbean queer visibility
Rapon’s photography challenges heteronormativity in Martinique
Adeline Rapon, a mixed race and openly lesbian feminist photographer, chose to return to her paternal roots in order to document, archive and showcase local Afro-queer communities in Martinique through photography. In particular, she focuses on those who are fighting to promote an alternative aesthetic, free from the codes of heteronormativity, in order to combat invisibility in everyday life.
Last October, Rapon curated a photography exhibition called Lanmou Nou in partnership with Kap Caraïbe, showcasing work by local photographers highlighting the experiences of Afro-Caribbean homosexuals who love each other in public spaces in Fort-de-France. The images were displayed on the railings of the Camille Darsières space in Fort-de-France, but they were quickly torn down and vandalised, while the perpetrator signed their act with a pro-independence statement.
76Crimes spoke with Rapon about her artistic journey and creating space for queer communities in Martinique.
Erasing 76 Crimes: How did you get started in photography?
Adeline Rapon: My starting point was as a young self-taught photographer from the age of 19. My blog gained notoriety, which surprised me as I did not come from a family of artists. I then worked as a jeweler for ten years before returning to my first love during the COVID-19 pandemic.
And it was really the question of transmission that was my guiding thread throughout my artistic reflection, in light of my family history.
On my mother’s side, I am from Corrèze, and all my life I have known my grandparents from Limousin, who farmed the land and were descendants of generations of farmers in the same region. On my father’s side, however, I had a more fragmented image of my Martinican heritage.
My father only spoke Creole to me to scold me during my childhood, and it was only later, with the help of the genealogy website Anchoukaj, that I was able to weave the thread that connects me to the colonial history of slavery and its abolition, using the register of names of new freedmen who were emancipated in 1848. Hence my current surname.
Then in 2020, during lockdown, I did some photography work from home, taking self-portraits in the mirror, inspired by old images of Creole women, which served as new points of reference for me to reflect on my own Caribbean identity. For me, this fruitful period was extremely liberating and, in the wake of it, I came out and explored my queerness, as well as revisiting my Caribbean identity.
This led to the creation of the photographic exhibition L-I-E-N [French for “Link”] in June 2023, the first of its kind in Martinique, highlighting the bodies, relationships and loves of queer people in Martinique.
The enthusiastic reception given to this work convinced me to move here in January 2024. Since then, I have embarked on a process of deprofessionalisation, and I have very few heterosexual people in my circle of friends. I also work mainly with LGBT+ communities, promoting stories that intersect with my own.
Erasing 76 Crimes: Can we revisit the incidents that marred the Lanmou Nou exhibition?
Rapon: The Lanmon Nou project came about because we thought it was possible. In fact, in the centre of Fort-de-France, there is a lot of mixing and movement during the day, while in the evening the city gives way to a more shady population.
With Kap Caraïbe, we did not underestimate the risk of vandalism, but we hoped that it would not happen and further tarnish an already tense social context surrounding the demonstrations by the Rassemblement pour la Protection des Peuples et des Ressources Afro-Caribéens [Note: The RPPRAC is a social movement advocating for Afro-Caribbean people in France’s overseas territories].
It was only when the exhibition was destroyed, forcing the local political class to react and condemn it, that the local media deigned to take an interest in the opening, without mentioning the names of the photographers involved, except for mine in my capacity as artistic director and organiser, which deeply irritated and displeased me.
It was as if all the work done beforehand to secure a public venue, with Martinicans agreeing to pose openly on the theme of making their homosexuality visible, had been wiped out with a stroke of the pen. As if it were nothing more than an anecdotal fact.
Erasing 76 Crimes: Has the Martinique Tourism Committee supported and promoted queer cultural events, particularly lesbian events, that you are involved in?
Rapon: I don’t think tourism is a lever for promoting our creativity. Tourism in Martinique aims to give a superficial and folkloric view of our cultural heritage. One might even wonder if the Martinique Tourism Board has a strategy.
And when the media isn’t indulging in pity and miserabilism about lesbians, it’s our spaces that are being taken over and gentrified, as in Rue Garnier Pagès.
However, we’re not starting from scratch. There have been parties at Le Carbet with a beach hut, while party organisers offer entertainment venues for the LGBT+ community: Queer Nation, JM parties. Nevertheless, we are never safe from a backlash, as was the case when the Pride March was cancelled by the municipality of Fort-de-France in 2024.
In this context, my partner and I launched Kozé, which offers a non-mixed space for lesbian women living in Martinique where we can relax on a sailboat and unburden ourselves from the prevailing heteronormative patriarchal mental load.
And yet, I am fortunate that my status as a recognised artist protects me from the gender-based violence to which other women in Martinique are exposed, while my partner and I have the financial means to enjoy relatively autonomous creative spaces.
However, on an island with a lack of representation of LGBT+ couples, where same-sex marriages are rare, there is still a long way to go before we see models other than ‘children, marriage and the Kangoo [Editor’s note: Kangoo is a model of sport utility vehicle marketed by Renault].
