Diversity Diversity

Dear Readers,

We are delighted to welcome you to this special anniversary edition celebrating the 50th BMW BERLIN-MARATHON. This milestone event in the history of running offers us a valuable opportunity to highlight the themes of inclusion and diversity, which are particularly close to our hearts.

When wheelchair athlete Catherine de Brunner crossed the finish line of the 2023 BMW BERLIN-MARATHON in a world record time of 1:34:16, we were in awe of her incredible athletic achievement. Yet, shortly after, it became apparent that few photographers had captured her success. This is symptomatic of the challenges faced by athletes with disabilities: despite their increasing presence in competitive sports, they rarely find themselves in the public spotlight.

Since launching our debut exhibition during the 2023 BMW BERLIN-MARATHON, UNSEEN has been bridging the seemingly disconnected worlds of art and athletics. Our global traveling photo exhibition and panel talk series moves from marathon to marathon – from Berlin to Bali to New York City – showcasing photographs and artistic works that shine new light on untold and unseen stories from the world of running. At UNSEEN, art and a passion for Running converge to create unforgettable images.

Berlin is a place where people from all over the world come together and connect. This vibrant blend of cultures enriches the city and comes alive every year at the BMW BERLIN-MARATHON. As the rainbow capital, Berlin champions self-determination and acceptance of gender and sexual diversity. Inclusion is in the city’s DNA. In running, every step means more than just moving forward; it represents strength, resilience, and identity. The sport creates opportunities for marginalised groups to connect with others and foster mutual understanding.

We are honoured to co-create the anniversary exhibition at MOVE - Home of the Marathon. The UNSEEN team extends its heartfelt thanks to SCC EVENTS for their collaboration. We look forward to celebrating this milestone together.

With kind regards,
Clarisse

Over the past 50 years, the BMW BERLIN-MARATHON has grown to become one of the world’s largest running events. This year, it emphasises inclusion and diversity, with a special focus on the LGBTQIA* community, particularly trans* and inter* individuals who often face discrimination in sports.

The travelling exhibition ‘UNSEEN’ by artist Clarisse Oberle will be showcased during the 2024 BMW BERLIN-MARATHON. The exhibition combines art and movement, bringing untold stories of marathon running to life and inviting visitors to engage with the experiences of marginalised groups. This approach is both enriching and long overdue in all areas of society.

The State Anti-Discrimination Act (LADG) and the General Equal Treatment Act (AGG) mandate public authorities to promote diversity and eliminate discrimination. For the marathon, this means actively creating an inclusive and non-discriminatory environment for all participants. Beyond the event, these goals must always remain a priority in everyday life. As the queer and anti-discrimination officer for the Mitte municipal district, I work daily with colleagues to prevent discrimination, ensure equal opportunities, and provide fair treatment and equal access.

I wish readers of this magazine and visitors to the exhibition an inspiring read, many exciting perspectives, and profound insights into the lives of those featured.

As part of the BMW BERLIN-MARATHON 50th anniversary exhibition at MOVE, the panel discussion “Breaking Ground,” on the subject of diversity and the LGBTQIA* running community in Berlin, will take place on September 21st.

Go to program

I’m Daniel Marin Medina (he/him), a Colombian-born American artist, writer, and runner who has lived in Berlin for seven years. I’ve been running for two decades, it’s a core part of me and one of the main reasons I moved to Berlin.

Running was the first time my body made sense. My childhood nickname, “Flaco” (Skinny), wasn’t exactly empowering, but running transformed my lanky frame into a source of power. Discovering running parallel to my sexuality was life-saving. Competitive sports aren’t inclusive, yet people from all backgrounds are eager to compete. Restricting access excludes those from marginalized communities.

I’ve always put pressure on myself to be the perfect brown, gay runner. I refused to be the first to slow down or drink water—extra work other teammates didn’t have. Regular slurs or comments about my German are additional stressors that the more privileged will never understand.

As I get older, imagining an inclusive running community becomes both easier and harder. Diverse spaces are crucial for people to feel seen and safe, but maintaining them is difficult and often unpaid work. As a co-founder of a run club, I know firsthand the power of fostering such spaces and the labor required.

Hallöchen! I’m Ramona Tyler (they/them), a Philadelphia-born linguist and cellist who has called Berlin home for 13 years. I enjoy running ultramarathons and am the founder of PACE, a FLINTA* run club with a special focus on inclusivity.

Running has had a profound impact on both my mental health and my evolving relationship with my body. Transitioning and endurance running are similar in that they both demand patience and trust in the process. In each, being kind to yourself and enjoying the journey are as vital as reaching the finish line.

An inclusive running community is intersectional, celebrating all genders, sexualities, backgrounds, neurodivergences, dis/abilities, and levels. Its members are eager to (un)learn, listen, and support one another. I’d like to think that people are generally open to expanding their horizons. Despite strides toward inclusion, such as the addition of a non-binary category, smaller races still lag behind. High entry fees and barriers to training continue to limit opportunities for marginalised groups. We need more visible queer spaces in outdoor settings, beyond the nightlife circuit.

However, those affected often bear the brunt of unpaid emotional labour, and maintaining inclusive spaces requires major effort. I’ve gained so much from finding community in sports, and I’m glad I can pay it forward through PACE.

Hi, I’m Greta (they/them), a long distance runner and photographer based in Berlin and London. My running journey started 10 years ago, alone. In 2019, I found WAYV Run Kollektiv, an inclusive club in Berlin. I didn’t realize such spaces existed. I thought running was an individual sport, but not anymore. Today, my running community, Joy Run Collective, is so much more than just people I run with.

I think that a healthy body can help you when you aren’t feeling so great about yourself. In a way, it reminds me that if I can run, why can‘t I also exist?

An inclusive running community has space for everyone, which is not the case now. It’s where marginalized people can feel safe(r). Where they aren’t merely used as tokens for Pride or Black History Month. My running team is this little utopia for me, where my teammates share the dream of equality.

Competitive sports aren’t inclusive. Some trans* runners can’t compete in their gender category. For me, inclusion is also when men can‘t handle a FLINTA* person outpacing them in a race. It’s inclusive because I can do it and they can’t stop me. But there are also hurdles before the race, such as accessibility.

We fight for inclusive spaces because many of us have faced discrimination and othering. Running can still be intimidating, especially for the marginalized.

I’m Noah Heckhoff (he/him, or no pronouns). For the past three years, I have coordinated the “Berliner Queer-Bündnis” project at the Lesben- und Schwulenverband Berlin-Brandenburg, which has allowed me to participate in several runs organised by SCC Events.

Running was the one sport I could comfortably pursue at the start of my transition. There were no binary changing rooms, no open showers in clubhouses, and no team that could potentially discriminate against me.

Races divided by binary gender models are inherently exclusive, as they cling to outdated practices—particularly the evaluation of performance based on the athlete’s assigned gender. The focus should be on ensuring that everyone has the right to compete.

An inclusive running community must be proactive, not just reactive. It’s not enough to simply provide space for marginalised individuals; the community must actively oppose discriminatory structures and behaviours. Even within sensitised groups and associations, many still face discrimination. Safer spaces exclusively for queer/TIN* individuals are therefore essential.

We need a culture of solidarity where no form of hostility is tolerated and those affected don’t have to stand up for themselves alone.

My name is Kathi Hoffmann (she/her). About 12 years ago, I co-founded Germany’s first independent Running Crew, Run Pack Berlin, as its only female captain alongside five men. For a long time, I was the only FLINTA* person leading a running community. Thankfully, those days are over, and today’s running culture has become significantly more diverse.

For over a decade, I’ve invited my community to run together on the night before March 8, International Women+’s Day, to highlight our challenges in sports and beyond. Over the past four years, this event has evolved into a registered demonstration, such as the 2023 RUN AGAINST RACISM protest run.

For many runners, especially FLINTA* and BIPOC* individuals, safety measures like self-defense courses or location sharing are the norm. As a mother of two daughters myself (aged 14 and 18), I cannot and will not accept that we cannot feel safe outside.

Real change requires solidarity, education, and courage from those who are not directly affected. We need allies who are aware of their privileges to help create a society where marginalized groups can move confidently and without fear. Only then will running be the powerful tool for self-love and empowerment it can be, especially for those who face discrimination. Together, we can create a vibrant and diverse culture where everyone feels comfortable.

My name is Jarred Kennedy-Loving (they/he) and I’ve been part of the Berlin running community for nearly 5 years. I previously co-captained WAYV Run Kollektiv and am now a member of Joy Run Collective.

Distance running has helped me connect with my body in a positive way. As a college sprinter, I struggled with body image and masculinity, leading to an unhealthy approach to exercise. Through distance running, I’ve learned to “meet my body where it is that day,” as a friend puts it. Running for the joy of building community spaces makes me feel whole and comfortable with my body.

Are competitive sports inclusive? It depends on the sport. While the WNBA has made strides toward inclusion, running still falls short. A few international races have ushered in a category for non-binary or gender-nonconforming runners, but most races and organizers still offer registration for only “female” or “male”. This is a structural hurdle for many queer runners that needs to change.

My vision for an inclusive running community is one where marginalized people feel empowered to run and take up space, regardless of race, ethnicity, gender identity and expression, (dis-)ability, sexual orientation, or class.

My name is Victoria Ash (she/her). I moved to Berlin 3 years ago for my studies. During major life changes, I started running to manage my emotions, and it quickly became my greatest support as I established my new life here.

Running makes me feel alive. In difficult times, when I’m close to losing hope, running provides stability. I know I can always lace up my shoes, explore the city, and let everything else fade away.

Are competitive sports inclusive? Definitely not. While some races have open gender categories, it’s debatable whether they provide meaningful competition for transgender women* and women* with sex variations frequently face pressure to undergo testosterone-suppressive treatments. Sports organisations need to acknowledge and accommodate the unique physical characteristics of all athletes.

I once travelled to Glasgow to interview a trail runner. But when I mentioned I was queer, he suddenly cancelled the interview. This reminded me how cautious one must be when coming out about sexuality and gender identity in many places.

An inclusive running community is supportive and non-competitive, where gender boundaries blur, prejudice is absent, and everyone can express themselves freely.

I’m Hong Anh Pham (she/they), a Berlin-based runner. I started running in January 2020 and soon after signed up for my first half marathon in London. Completing a half marathon had been on my bucket list for years, so even though the race was cancelled due to the pandemic, I ran a half around Müggelsee. A friend made me a race bib and a medal out of cardboard to celebrate my first race.

Running has profoundly changed my body image. Before, I focused on how my body looked rather than what it could do. Now, I prioritise supporting my body with proper nutrition and rest to achieve my athletic goals, which makes me feel more content in my body.

Unfortunately, competitive sports aren’t inclusive, from socioeconomic barriers in (school) sports to unwelcoming university teams. I’ve faced discrimination in running just as I have in everyday life. While training with a university team, the coach ignored me, calling out split times for everyone except me. When I ran my Boston qualifying marathon in Palermo last year, some male-identifying runners I passed commented on my appearance. It infuriated me—and made me run even faster.

An inclusive running community should reflect an inclusive world. I want to enter spaces where I don’t have to search for others like me to feel comfortable. I’m very fortunate to have joined an inclusive running community in Berlin - Daniel was the first runner friend I made here and I am grateful to have an amazing and diverse network of running friends.

I am Banafshe Hourmazdi (she/they), actor and long distance runner from Berlin. I have been running for 10-15 years and long distance for two years. Since I have been getting into long distance running, I have learned to respect my body more. After my first 10k race I could never have imagined that I would run a full marathon a year later.

I have been training solo and in groups. There are many benefits of running in community: one being they are safer. Therefore I am glad that I am part of Joy Run Collective, which has created a space for me to learn and grow with my running, as well as being more considerate of my needs. Joy Run focuses on supporting BIPOC runners.

Running in a team means learning from other runners, helping other runners and bonding through a shared experience and passion.

Truth about sports is that the amount of women of colour still feels very small. I remember racing this year with my running team and getting jostled by older white men, that’s also still the truth for running races.

I travel a lot for work and it’s interesting to see how cities are shaped and whose needs are considered. Sometimes it is hard to just find a nice park or even path to run. At the same time in some places it is also uncommon to do sports in public as a woman. As a woman with Iranian background I feel even more proud to join races and take up space as a runner.

Hi. Servus. I’m Simon (he/him), a queer runner from Austria, running with the Berlin Braves. In my early twenties, I lived in New York, London, and Paris. I discovered my queer identity through partying, working hard, and pushing my limits. Running has taught me the importance of proper movement, rest, and nutrition. It helps me take care of my body and find balance.

Inclusivity in running means creating a space where everyone feels empowered to achieve their goals. Unfortunately, many feel excluded due to societal barriers and personal traumas. While sports associations claim to be inclusive, a big shift is needed. They must publicly support LGBTQIA* athletes, address misconduct, and encourage coaches to foster truly inclusive environments.

Queer women are often more accepted in sports due to stereotypes that link athleticism with masculinity, while gay men are frequently associated with traits considered incompatible with sports. When was the last time an athlete was praised for being “charming,” “sweet,” or “soft-spoken”? Exactly.

Fortunately, I haven’t faced overt discrimination. But I notice a lot of internalised behaviours in society. Often, people act out of ignorance rather than malice. Instead of getting upset, I reflect on how to help them embrace a more inclusive perspective.

I’m Van (he/him), a queer runner from the Philippines who loves marathons and ultramarathons. Running was a passion of mine as a kid, but I only rediscovered it a few years ago. Now, it’s a huge part of my life and has deeply influenced my identity.

Running has helped me appreciate my body’s capabilities. As a child, I was often bullied for my weight, which damaged my self-esteem. But through running, I learned to see my body in a positive light, celebrating what it can do rather than focusing on perceived flaws.

While competitive sports have made strides towards inclusivity, like adding non-binary categories, there’s still a lack of queer BIPOC* representation. Societal barriers often restrict access to training, resources, and supportive communities.

When I rediscovered running, I joined several groups to meet new people and find community. However, as a newcomer, it was challenging to connect with others—many clubs didn’t feel welcoming, and everyone seemed to already know each other.

An inclusive running community should celebrate diversity and embrace people of all backgrounds, ages, body types, and experience levels. It’s essential that everyone feels valued and supported. Moreover, having more queer and BIPOC* leaders in the running community is crucial for representation and fostering a true sense of belonging.

My name is Nico (he/him), and I was born and raised in a small, sunny village near Freiburg im Breisgau. On top of my day job as a project manager for a brand agency, I teach yoga and fitness classes to help people achieve holistic well-being.

Personally, this means going for a run with my family, AKA the Berlin Braves, who remind me every week of the wonderful feeling of freedom and independence that running provides.

Running helps me harness my body’s strength and power, deepening my understanding of its capabilities and limitations.

I am grateful that I have never personally experienced discrimination in the running community. However, I believe competitive sports are not truly inclusive. High entry fees and travel expenses prevent many from participating.

To me, the ideal inclusive running community welcomes everyone, regardless of gender, age, ability, sexual orientation, income, or ethnic background. Weekly runs would be hosted in various neighbourhoods, and the organisers should be as diverse as the members themselves.

My name is Maria (they/them), I’m 21 years old, and I live in Berlin. Sports are a great passion of mine, especially skating, surfing, and snowboarding. Recently, I also started running and discovered a new love for it.

There are moments when I feel fully aware of my body and realise that despite all the challenges in the world, I am alive.

For a running community to be truly inclusive, it’s essential that everyone is welcomed—whether BIPOC* people, queer people, trans* people, people with disabilities, and others who often face barriers to access. We need to prioritise those who have less access to such spaces.

Are competitive sports inclusive? It’s a long road ahead, but we’re on the right path.

Although I only recently started running, I exclusively run with BLACK CANARY, a Black FLINTA* running group. To avoid discrimination, I sought out a safe space where I could feel comfortable.

I’m Alice Drouin (she/her), project manager for sport at the Lesbian and Gay Association Berlin-Brandenburg (LSVD). In this role, I manage the competence and coordination point for gender and sexual diversity in sport, funded by the Senate Department for Interior Affairs and Sport. I connect individuals with sports clubs, associations, authorities, and organizations, offering advice, networking, and advocacy for queer people in Berlin’s sports scene.

I am also supported by the Berlin State Office for Equal Treatment and Against Discrimination (LADS), where I conduct workshops at schools, sports clubs, and other organisations. A key focus of my work is promoting non-discriminatory language in sports, which we address through initiatives like the SprachKick workshops offered in collaboration with KickIn.

The LSVD represents the interests of lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans*, intersex, and other queer people (LGBTQIA*). We work to ensure that everyone can pursue their personal life plans free from disadvantages and discrimination. Beyond sports, LSVD addresses a wide range of issues, including awareness and education, services for migrants and refugees, family and fertility, and political advocacy through networks such as the Berlin Queer Alliance.