Friction, Care, and Connection: Both Instrument and Sound’s Vision of Solidarity

Published in ISSUE Magazine in December 2024

“I believe in the world and want to be in it. I want to be in it all the way to the end of it, because I believe in another world, and I want to be in that.” Sharlene Bomboat’s experimental short, Both, Instrument and Sound (2024), opens with this quote from poet Fred Moten, read by the film’s 80-year-old protagonist, activist Tony Sousa.

I watched the picture at its European premiere on October 11 at the Palestinian Film Festival, as part of the “Solidarity from Turtle Island” program curated by Palestinian filmmaker Razan Al Salah. Moments before the screening, Tony himself appeared in front of the audience gathered in the red-velvet-clad theater De Uitkijk, having traveled from his home in Toronto to introduce the film. “When Sharlene first told me she wanted to make a movie about my life, I didn’t immediately get it,” he admitted in an interview after the showing. “She’s an experimental filmmaker, and when I watched her previous films, I couldn’t always follow.” Four years on, Tony now loves the result.

Both, Instrument and Sound is a delicate, layered exploration of intersecting themes. Rooted in Sharlene’s artistic focus on sound and collaborative art, the project features contributions from dozens of artists. Initially, Sharlene set out to document the creation of a graphic score — a type of musical score where sound is represented by shapes rather than notes — that explored the concept of tension. The score and its creators, many of whom are Sharlene’s friends, are woven throughout the film. As the project evolved, its themes expanded from musical tension to “the tension of friendship, family, as well as the tension of doing solidarity work,” Sharlene told me the following week.

To bring these abstract topics into focus, Sharlene centered the narrative on Tony’s lifelong commitment to activism and community-building. The two connected over a decade ago through Sharlene’s partner, Natalie, who had met Tony in 2009 while they were both organizing for Queers Against Israeli Apartheid in Toronto. “As a human, he is just very open and generous,” Sharlene said. “He likes to tell stories, he’s good at captivating an audience. But also, he’s done a lot of work in his life to pave the way for people like me — immigrants or racialized queers living in Canadian society.”

More than a biographical account of Tony’s life story, Both, Instrument and Sound is a portrayal of the unique, multidimensional bond shared by Sharlene, Tony, and Natalie. To Sharlene and many others, Tony is a “friend, dad, grandpa, cousin, uncle, all rolled in one.” What initially brought them together was their shared commitment to centering relationships in their work. “We always joke about how we're so similar,” Sharlene said. “We both have a lot of friends, we both are constantly in communication with others.”

This relationship is depicted through candid exchanges captured between the three, from discussions about real estate to end-of-life wishes. As a viewer, the scenes feel familiar, relatable, almost voyeuristic. “We speak on the phone three times a week and visit each other often,” Sharlene said. “This time, I just turned on the camera.” The loving care shared between the three and other people in Sharlene’s circle are also shown in the movie in a series of quiet moments: Sharlene watering her many plants; Tony receiving a massage; the three cooking for each other or gathering in the kitchen for a chat. 

Another central theme in the film is Tony’s role as a community elder, someone who has witnessed social change in his lifetime, and been a part of bringing about that change. “You know, I’ve seen AIDS become an illness to be treated instead of a reason for discrimination,” he told me during our interview. “Things have changed, they have not changed perfectly, but they've changed. South Africa became free, Palestine will be free.” 

Tony’s words made me reflect on the intergenerational nature of revolutionary work. The struggle against entrenched systems can feel endless and hopeless within a single lifetime; but the success of social movements depends on figures like Tony, who bring together different generations of activists so that the work can be continued for years to come.

In one moving scene, Natalie and Sharlene gather around Tony as he flips through a photo album filled with images of his younger self, which reminded me of similar memories I have of my own grandma. “It was also important to me to document the idea of queer kinship, of chosen family,” Sharlene explained. 

Watching this passage, I was struck by a sense of mystery I’ve felt before while looking at the past lives of people I saw as mentors to try to understand how they became who they are today. Sharlene also often looks at Tony’s story as a roadmap to navigate her own life. “I grew up with my grandparents, but they didn't live the life I chose to live, politically at least,” Sharlene said. “And then, when I met Tony, many friends and I were like, ‘Oh, cool. You can actually live your life like this.’” 

Alongside this particular relationship, Both, Instrument and Sound also explores the theme of solidarity as a complex process shaped by both unity and friction. As the three discuss in a scene, in our modern, hyper-individualistic society, social movements are often stifled by attempts to appease internal frictions rather than accept them as a natural part of seeking systemic change. “On a very simple level, solidarity is about relationships,” Sharlene said. “Sometimes you don't like the people you work with, but you're working towards a common goal. And I feel it's kind of similar with relationships and family, there's always going to be tension when you work towards creating things together.” 

Through visual and auditory cues, Bomboat’s experimental direction captures this complex tension between our need for others and the strains that test those bonds. Her fragmented narrative weaves glimpses of past protests with snapshots of well-loved homes, a day at the pool, a tattoo session and, of course, the collaborative graphic score that originated the picture. Much like its own definition of solidarity, the film’s structure resists simple conclusions, emphasizing the often messy nature of building connections.

The short’s title, Both Instrument and Sound, can be interpreted in many ways. Originally, Sharlene said, it was inspired by the writings of indigenous author Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, who first employed a similar phrase to describe her process of collecting the oral history of elders in her Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg community in Eastern Canada. “We are both instruments and we're also sound,” that’s the way Tony looks at it. “We need to make our voices heard, we also need to be doing something actively to bring about change.”

In my personal reading, the title speaks directly to Tony — a person who became an instrument of change while also owning his own unique voice. More metaphorically, instruments often require some sort of friction to make sound, but also a lot of love and care. The scenes where Tony’s body is gently massaged felt to me like tending to a well-used instrument, honoring a body that has worked hard throughout its life and can only continue to do so if properly cared for. 

To me, that is what the film is ultimately about: celebrating the nourishing relationships and practices that sustain lifelong activism. At a time when many of the people around me are overwhelmed by the brutalities of our world or burning out from constantly putting themselves on the frontlines, Both, Instrument and Sound came as a reminder that a life well lived is also a fundamental part of resistance, and that the only way to survive these traumas is by processing them in community.

“I'm not such a la-di-da kind of person, but I think it's important for us to hold onto the small victories and the nice things in life, which to me are like my relationships,” Sharlene concluded. “The world is falling apart, but I have really nice friends.”