Painting my breasts

A work in progress. I’m painting my breasts because since age 12 I have been told over and over in myriad ways that they are shamefully sexual for every day life.

I have a distinct memory of photo day at sixth form college. My male head of year stared pointedly at my breasts, said ‘oh my god’ and insisted I must button up my cardigan for the photos. His facial expression is seared into my memory. It was a confused mish-mash of surprise, embarrassment and amusement. I never figured out what was funny. I was wearing similar clothing to my classmates but it seems my large breasts sexualise everything that isn’t a baggy T-shirt.

This was one of the many times that it was drilled into me that my body was shamefully sexual and I must cover up to make the rest of the world comfortable. It’s been almost a decade and the view that female bodied people should cover their breasts to be respectable is still in the majority.

So I’m painting my boobs in all their massive glory. Fuck everyone who thinks I need to put them away in public to be respectable.

I am hiding from predatory men under my blanket

Today it was sunny in London so I wore a skirt. I was emotionally tired and not feeling resilient enough to have my legs and body stared at all day. I just wanted to go back to bed, so when I got home from work I did and I painted this picture.

I want to share my experience of being a disabled, pansexual woman of colour in this world. I’m hoping it will help me feel less like prey and more like a person. So I’m setting a 100 day goal to do so.

Sexually harassed in front of my students

So today I gave a special Women’s Day themed class to my students, including discussions about #metoo and sexual harassment. Afterwards, outside the school, I was harassed in front of my students. It is such a regular occurrence, that it can literally be used to punctuate a lesson. I felt angry.

I used the rage to finish this second version of my ‘It is my body’ first post. Here’s to using female rage to get shit done.