Continuing to paint my breasts

in ,
 

A continuing work in progress. It felt good to continue working on it after a hiatus because it’s a bit of a declaration of my intention to stop trying to fit in, to toe the line of what it means to be a respectable woman in western culture.

I’ve been told so many times in so many ways that if I just learn to play the game I’ll be more successful. By my teachers when I spoke my mind to often, by my family when I wore ‘immodest’ clothing, by my lecturers when I stood my ground about my disability.

The thing about playing the game is that it is set up for cis-straight-able bodied-white men to succeed. Not me.

I want to stop trying to toe the line because doing that props up the success of those people and not my people, the ‘minorities’.

 

I am afraid to work full time and I am afraid not to

in
 
IMG_0788.jpg

I have a disability called Ehlers Danlos (hello any fellow zebras) which affects my joints and the rest of my body in a bunch of weird and not-so-wonderful ways. At the moment I work freelance part time and some weeks my body can handle that and more but others it just can’t.

I’m currently applying for full time jobs because I’m living with my mum and I can’t do that forever. There are a bunch of other reasons and complicating factors but at the end of the day, financially I need to work full time to live but physically I’m not sure it’s possible. And if it is, I’m not sure how much of me will be left at the end of it.

I’m going to try it out anyway but I’m scared. That’s what this bit of art is about.

 

Painting my breasts

in ,
 

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

in
 
blanket.jpg
 

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.