Within a few minutes of sharing a recent post in which I showed an image of myself, I began to panic about the picture. (I did quite a bit of editing of the text itself the next morning, too, but that's neither here not there.)
It feels so scary to show intimate images of ourselves, isn't it? I worry people assume it is all in vain. And isn't there just a bit of vain in that? How could there not be? The assumption that seeing my photo might be interesting to a reader.
But I'm seeing it more and more. Women showing part or all of their bodies in beautiful, artistic, real ways. This is one site (NSFW) created by lesbian Caitlin Stasey. It is a truly moving example of witnessing "the female form in all its honesty . . ."This is a blog I'm just diving into, but here's an example of the raw, skin-bearing photos this writer shares. (Though I must say, if I see ONE MORE outrageously beautiful pregnant blogger, who seems to have gained weight only in her stomach...)
What a stunning concept. That we are allowed to share our bodies as we please. That it does not have to be inherently sexual. Or only worthy of showing the world if it is appealing to viewers.
And yet. I worry it is impossible to untangle my desire to be seen and authentic with my desire to be desired. I think that perhaps it is impossible to share one's self without thinking just a bit about how it will be received. My ego still whispers, Do I look pretty here?
If I had a pie chart that depicted my intentions behind sharing pictures of myself, does it really matter what percentage is made up of wanting to appear attractive? What if the vast majority of it has to do with wanting to be vulnerable and real? Maybe it's okay to have both motivations.
Here I am in a classic 21st century queer feminist conundrum. Coming to terms with yearning to exist as a wild, unique spirit but within the confines of social norms and expectations. There are still rules for how we 'should' look. And I'm still learning how to break them.
Or how to feel like a true feminist when I'm not breaking them. Does that make sense?
I want to be better about that in this space. Not necessarily showing more of my skin, as this is a public space and, dear god, my parents read my posts from time to time. But because I have spent too much time trying to cover up, edit photos, get just the right angle. Because I'm tired of pretending I am a blogger who has all of her shit together. (Oh wait, did I ever imply that?) Because the fact that I am holding an Americano and smiling in front of a pretty Seattle view does not mean I do not have oceans of unease within me. And I wonder what would happen if we all got fucking real about that.