Baran Kok AMG Kanake (2025)
Few voices have cut through German pop culture with such clarity, edge and cultural weight as Hengameh Yaghoobifarah. Novelist, columnist, cultural critic, fashion icon: they’ve spent the last decade queering the public conversation, challenging systemic inequalities and making space for everything mainstream media tends to ignore.
Born in Germany to Iranian parents, Hengameh’s work is loud where silence is expected, funny where things get too fragile and always politically charged. Whether unpacking pop culture or calling out institutional violence, they write from lived experience—and refuse to cater to the status quo.
In 2019, Hengameh co-edited the essay collection Eure Heimat ist unser Albtraum (“Your Homeland Is Our Nightmare”) with writer Fatma Aydemir. The book brought together different voices to dismantle the nationalist rhetoric of “Heimat” and confront the everyday racism embedded in German society.
But let’s go back to the beginning: Their rise began at the legendary Missy Magazine, where Hengameh’s columns explored gender, race, queerness and media representation with biting wit and intersectional clarity. From there, they wrote for newspapers and magazines like taz and an.schläge, as well as the legendary pop culture magazine Spex (RIP), quickly becoming one of the most discussed (and dissected) voices in German journalism. Nothing captured that more than their 2020 column Abschaffung der Polizei: All cops are berufsunfähig (loosely translated “Abolish the police: All cops are unfit for duty”)—a bold provocation that sparked national outrage and proved their writing didn’t just reflect the culture; it rattled it.
In 2021, Hengameh turned to fiction with their debut novel Ministerium der Träume (“Ministry of Dreams”), a powerful and critically acclaimed story of queer identity, migration and grief, told through the lens of a German-Iranian protagonist reeling from her sister’s sudden death. Just a year later, they followed with Habibitus, a collection of their essays and taz-columns.
Then in September 2024, they dropped Schwindel, their second novel, set on a high-rise rooftop: Four lovers—Ava, Robin, Delia and Silvia—find themselves stranded when an impromptu date spirals out of control, forcing them into a claustrophobic reckoning of desire, power and belonging.
The work doesn’t stop on the page: Hengameh has spoken at universities across Europe, appeared in documentaries, hosted panels and in 2020 launched Auf eine Tüte—a disarmingly intimate podcast series featuring artists, activists and cultural figures which ran until 2021. The title translates loosely to “Over a Bag” (of chips, weed or whatever else fits the mood). The vibe was casual, but the conversations ran deep, touching on mental health, migrant joy, emotional labor and the contradictions of visibility.
Speaking of visibility, style is part of the message, too. On Instagram and IRL, Hengameh’s look is fire, camp and never apolitical. It’s fashion as discourse—queer, curated yet effortless.
So when we asked Hengameh to share an underrated song, we expected something with teeth. Enter Baran Kok. In Hengameh’s words: “I’ve been a fan ever since I first heard Baran Kok. His new track ‘AMG Kanake’ doesn’t just nod to the iconic track by Kurdo ‘Nike Kappe umgekehrt’—he’s making properly good queer German rap. Whether I’m at the gym or just chilling, it’s already one of my top songs for summer 2025.”
Baran Kok’s “AMG Kanake” isn’t just a banger—it’s a subversion. It takes street rap’s traditional swagger and remixes it with queer desire, softness and glam. It’s power, claimed and queered.
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