The STAND Festival returns Nov. 1 to 10, celebrating immigrant and refugee artists. One of the shows is dancer and choreographer Jhoely Triana’s Las Mujeronas (Nov. 1, The Annex)—reflecting the immigration experience through flamenco dancing. 

Magda “isi bhakhomen” Uculmana-Falcón’s Mami (Nov. 9, Presentation House Theatre)—is a semi-autobiographical work exploring the connections between mother and daughter with the message that liberation must come from within.

The festival also features Chichak Performing Arts’ Confined Spaces, Boundless Movements (Nov. 4, The Annex)—a blend of Azerbaijani dance with modern storytelling reflecting the performers’ individual and collective experiences of immigration.

Las Mujeronas: Poetic weightedness

“It’s always scary to be somewhere new, scary to be so far away from family and friends,” Colombian-born Triana reflects. “Finding familiarity is what makes it so much easier to be here and to be an immigrant.”

She adds that the Spanish word mujeronas means “strong, fierce and powerful women.” Her upcoming performance features dancers Marcela Lopez, Desiree Carlson Sanroman, Luiza Libardi, Rosa Celis and Jessica Oryall. The women are from different Latin American countries— Brazil, Colombia, Peru, and Mexico and immigrated to Canada at different life stages from infancy to adulthood.

“We sat together and talked about our lives; do we miss our homes? What is our relationship to our past?” Triana asks. “Everyone’s story is slightly different, but we all have that common connection of there’s always some longing for that previous world.” 

The choreographer adds that the excitement and determination of making a new life abroad was another common theme.

“[Triana] creates a very great environment for this,” says Libardi. “It’s very beautiful to have someone understanding each dancer and getting a safe space to share these stories.” 

These discussions then translated into “movement phrases”: a choreography reflecting their immigrant experiences. Triana’s movement illustrates a push and pull between her two worlds.

 “Who do I belong to? Which culture is mine?” she asks. “It doesn’t matter—I know who I am.”

Both dancers see flamenco as an empowering “therapeutic practice”— connecting them with their immigration stories. For Triana, this “vocabulary of flamenco” reaffirms the women’s strength, confidence and determination. She has always loved dancing, studying ballet at a young age.

“What was different [about flamenco] is the weight, the peso…a physical, actual stomping into the ground,” she shares, contrasting it with her previous dance training in ballet and the contemporary style. “It’s a bit scary at first to be so loud.”

Both dancers note that self-expression is inherent in flamenco, even in choreographed sections. Their multidisciplinary performance features singing, guitar, poetry and recorded music.

According to Triana, music, particularly its “resolution,” is essential to flamenco: the singer takes the lead while the guitarist and dancers follow. 

“Once you’re up there [on stage], it’s just you—you have to show yourself,” Libardi reflects, drawing parallels with the immigrant experience. “It’s the story of us; we change when we’re alive.”

Triana will also lead the “Intro to Flamenco Guided Movement Exploration” workshop on Oct. 27 at Presentation House Theatre. She encourages people to attend the workshop—featuring flamenco history, understanding the dance’s “weightedness,” and the music.

Finding liberation

Liberation must come from within, says isi bhakhomen of her play Mami’s lasting message. bhakhomen started writing the semi-autographical conversation between “a heightened version” of themself and their mother around ten years ago. It explores intergenerational bonds and curses.

“My mom came to Canada [from Peru] when she was 19,” the playwright adds. “It was something I was grappling with—she moved to an entirely different country and didn’t speak that language.”

Originally conceptualized as a three-person act, the first version of Mami featured three characters: bhakhomen, their mother and Afro-Peruvian poet Victoria Santa Cruz. After an emotional first reading where “many wounds” were opened,  the playwright put the project aside but then revisited the idea in a solo performance class at the National Theatre School of Canada. bhakhomen’s Vancouver performance will be the first time without their mother.

“A really weird thought came to me: my grandmother was a maid; my mom was a nanny, she cleaned offices [and] food courts,” bhakhomen says, adding that they, too, worked as a janitor before theatre school. “I thought: ‘maybe it was something I inherited, maybe genetically, I was meant to do this job,’ and that was a really dark thought.”

The current version of Mami—a one-hour solo show—stems from a 25-minute version created for Buddies in Bad Times Theatre’s Rhubarb Festival. To bhakhomen’s surprise, the performance received a standing ovation.

The performance begins with a Spanish recitation of Santa Cruz’s spoken word poem, Me gritaron negra. Translated as “They Yelled at Me: Black!” the poem describes Santa Cruz’s reactions to racism while growing up in Peru. 

“What’s beautiful about the poem is that she embraces the word and sees the beauty and the power in it,” bhakhomen says.

Mami only involves a few props, including a toilet. For bhakhomen, the powerful image of themselves and a toilet on stage draws attention to the daily, invisible work that keeps society running.

“All these faces, humans and all these stories–they might not be doctors in an emergency room, but they have a huge impact on our lives, and they deserve to be treated a lot better,” bhakhomen adds.

Innovating Azerbaijani dance

Azerbaijani dance, much like knowing how to make rice, is a natural part of life, says creator and performer Asal Ahadi. Chichak Performing Arts (previously named Chichaklar) will present Confined Spaces, Boundless Movements on Nov. 4 at The Annex—a piece reflecting on the three performers’ individual and collective experiences of immigration.

“We’re not sticking to the traditional movement, styles or even costumes,” adds fellow creator and performer Ghazal Nikjou. “It’s been an emotional journey within our group, trying to put those puzzle pieces together and trying to incorporate our different experiences.”

The third creator and performer Shalaleh Rismani describes the performance as “experimental, traditional and personal.” She adds that what makes the choreography experimental is the fusion of the contemporary style with traditional folklore movements. 

The choreography reflects the three dancers’ lived experiences both within Iran and Canada—from the perspectives of women moving between these contexts. Ahadi moved to Canada as an adult; Rismani in her teenage years; and Nikjou as a child. 

Their dance will use traditional items and other meaningful objects from their childhood, including a long piece of fabric. According to Rismani, the fabric represents a border separating the inside of a home and the external world in Iran.

“We shape and move with the fabric to represent the limitations we faced while feeling safe at home,” she says. “It also represents how we move beyond the borders of our homes and country as we begin our immigration journey.”

While Chichak Performing Arts consists of eight core members, they are spread around the world in Canada, the U.S., and the U.K. 

 “We feel over the years, the next generation, [these traditions] can easily fade away,” Ahadi says. “[This work is] to really just preserve that through the way our parents encouraged us to do it…savour it for the next generation.” 

The group offers Azerbaijani dance classes—open to all who are interested, regardless of age or background. Ahadi shares that the tradition is thousands of years old.

 “It’s a traditional dance that has a long history of storytelling through multiple layers,” she adds.

 These traditional dances also come in different forms: the Ghaval (frame drum) dance has ancient ceremonial roots and represents a connection to nature. Another type, the Nelbeki (saucer) dance, is performed with tea saucers, embodying Azerbaijani women’s welcoming and graceful spirit. 

The contemporary focus of the upcoming performance is new. Even the music has taken a new layer of meaning. The three performers took great care to find the right songs—a process Nikjou describes as going into “much detail and depth.”

She adds that the songs, all of which are instrumental, ties into their storytelling. Songs were chosen to illustrate their “sense of belonging”; the music also conveys disruption, disconnection and suppression. 

“I think it will be a very emotional experience for the audience,” she says, noting that video clips of their rehearsals moved her family members. 

Ahadi hopes the performance will evoke the audience’s empathy and curiosity.

“Our hope is that the audience will see part of their journey in what we portray and gets to reflect on their journey,” Rismani adds.

For more information, see https://www.standfestival.com/events2025.