The staging of Om: I Remember was both intimate and elemental. A basin of water nested inside a bathtub stood at the centre of the space—part altar, part cleansing pool. Around it, a slow-building architecture of ritual emerged, formed through action and accumulation. Bee’s body served as both site and medium, marked with shaming phrases such as “You should earn your rest,”“Council scum,”“You should control yourself,” and “You’re a burden.” These statements, repeated across the body, carried the haunting refrain of systemic harm: “You should...” Recalling Hedva’s assertion that “a broken body is a body with agency,” the piece rejected the redemptive arc in favour of cyclical return—ritualising shame into sovereignty (Hedva, 2016).

These inscriptions were not for spectacle but functioned as offerings—each one a sediment of remembered harm to be ritually witnessed and released. The phrases bore the tone of systems speaking directly to Bee, seeking to collapse them into silence. The presence of these oppressive phrases on their body was Bee’s refusal to disappear.

The scenography evolved over time rather than being presented in full. Cotton, initially part of the design, was removed in later stages, allowing focus to shift to the core elements: water, body, fabric, and light. The gradual unveiling of the shrine—painted with sacred symbols—was choreographed across cycles of action, creating a slow-burning dramaturgy of revelation. These symbols were chosen for their spiritual and energetic significance:

• Flower of Life – unity and genesis

• Sri Yantra – divine feminine and the path to source

• Unicursal Hexagram – integration of opposites

• Metatron’s Cube – divine balance and multidimensionality

• Numerology: 222 (balance), 111 (new beginnings), 000 (void and source)

The aesthetic composition of Om: I Remember is another example of Bee’s neuroqueer literal metaphor methodology where patriarchical oppression literally stains their body and is washed off in a repeating cycle, and then the semiotics of the divine shrine’s gradual reveal embodies the poetry of the healing and remembering process. Finally, the literal smashing of the clock also holds metaphorical weight - a refusal of linear healing, a rejection of the notion there is a deadline on self-evolution, and a rebellion toward normative structures sculpted by the hands of oppressive systems. This became a ritual of refusal, resisting productivity, recovery arcs, and the demand for closure—what Kafer (2013) describes as the “straight time” of ableist futures. The decision to perform bare-chested (while wearing pants) was a gesture of disarmament, resisting both sexualisation and shame.

The performance did not invite audience participation, but instead asked them to hold space—to witness without controlling. The architecture of the work resisted consumption and offered, instead, a shared field of sacred presence. Vulnerability here was not a weakness to be overcome but a power to be honoured.