It’s really delightful to look at these photos and see how much fun I was having. I feel such a squishiness towards myself that I didn’t expect after feeling so awkward in front of the camera. I love being naked. But having it be caught on film, without my control?? How about no. I secretly decided before that I would hate them. A private challenge to Anastasia, and if wrong, I could be pleasantly surprised otherwise. Yes, she made other people look raw and real, but really? Not me. Not gonna happen. I resigned to be a challenge she wouldn’t be able to handle. And then I told her. At least a little. Because, if nothing, honesty is one of my super powers.
I won’t lie, it took me a moment to adjust at first to seeing myself. But now, I’m giddy about these. My humor. My tenderness. My power. How could I possibly ever feel negative towards myself?? I’m so dorky and cute! But I’m such a jerk to myself all the damn time. How rude!
It’s prob because I’m used to thinking that my body is always at least a little in the way. There’s reasons. Many. I wrote and deleted over and over, but how can you sum up trauma, experience, disability, etc.? I have it. It’s my own version. All of it is valid. There’s so much more, though to who I am.
I often have come back to feeling broken and disposable, but there’s also always been a lot of roughness and fight in me, along with the begrudging, sarcastic, and relentless desire to heal. I have found humor, lightness, meditations, and community that allow me to step above old scars, and even use them to help others. I have an uncontrollable laugh that legitimately can been identified from three houses over. Healing is an understatement to where I am today. It’s not perfect, especially in isolation, but I’m not chained to my old escapes.
I NEVER know how to describe my gender identity. My gender is an exhausting game of wack-a-mole, constantly trying to figure out what the hell it’s doing or wants as a new option and desire pops up. It’s been in so many expressions both internal and external, it’s dizzying. I am writing and deleting over and over, all again. I desperately hoped this photoshoot would help me see it. I wanted to see for myself what was there with all the external protection and facade ripped away. Raw. Years of torment, discovery, and transformations. Showing every translucent, rolling hill, and stretched bits of my skin from the ride. It’s really lovely to see from the outside how much stronger I am than I feel. And while I can’t say that I have my gender any more figured out than before, I can say that I can see something really true about myself. Proven wrong.
I’m here, a fucking femme, masc, tough, soft, queer, gender-fucked, jewish, disabled, neurodivergent, goofy, smart, sexy, squishy, loving, vulnerable, protector. What a gift to forever capture the truth in a time capsule. A capsule, especially, preciously timed, a few days before the world closed its doors, as we now wait to see if they’ll ever truly, safely reopen.