Finally Posting What I Want

It has taken me nearly a week to make the final decision to post these photos of myself. I have been wanting to do so for awhile, but many things kept me back.

The main one is my job. If you didn’t know, I’m a college professor. There’s the obvious: respectability politics; e.g., there’s a standard of professionalism that leaves no room for one’s ass cheeks. But there’s also the presence, here on this page, of my current students and colleagues who follow me. I wouldn’t say I fear their opinions or judgements, so much as I have internalized femmephobia and slut shaming to the point that I thought I would no longer be taken seriously if you saw my ass. While this is undoubtedly true for some people (who I hope will just click the unfollow button), it’s also true that I haven’t given you all enough credit to be radical, open-minded adults.

There’s also an element of my hesitation that’s rooted in my body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria. As I lean more heavily into my femmeness, I feel more obligated to justify it. As a non-binary person, assigned female at birth, my doing of gender here probably doesn’t seem radical to most people. But, for me, it is. Every time I “do gender” is drag. Eyeliner and mesh bodysuits feel no more or less at home on my body than a bow tie or combat boots do. In fact, I largely feel uncomfortable in all physical manifestations of myself. But while my body may never look exactly how my alien mind envisions is ideal, I can express agentic power by claiming ownership over this body I have, right now.

A big part of my hesitation is also rooted in misogyny. I know that if I use the “right” hashtags, I’ll have a whole bunch of cishet men up in my feed commenting on my body. As much as I love this platform for its ability to connect me to others, build a community of folks in which I feel comfortable expressing my true self, it also opens the door to unwanted objectification. Here, I suppose it’s helpful for me to remember intent versus impact. My body and my sexuality are mine. I show it off for me, not anyone else, particularly not for men. I can’t control what other people will do with these photos (which is terrifying, for sure), but I can tell you that I’m doing it to remind myself that I am skin and bones, living flesh, alive and worth existing.

I also want to thank Andrew Gurza, who started #DisabledPeopleAreHot, for reminded me that I am. When I took these photos, I hadn’t showered in a week, I had one eye swollen with a stye, and I was experiencing a flare up in my migraine pain, likely due to the insomnia I’ve been experiencing. I stank, I was dirty, I was tired, I was in pain, and prior to putting on this bodysuit, I was wearing weeks old sweats. I didn’t feel human, let alone sexy. Because of my OCD, I hadn’t even made eye contact with people that day; my gaze down, toward my feet, when I passed people in the hallway to take my dog to pee. I was embarrassed. Ashamed. Perfectionism obsessions are debilitating, but worse when my physical pain makes it impossible for me to even try to be, perfect.

So, here I am, in all my glory: disabled, neurodivergent, non-binary, queer, and hot as fuck. You can click the unfollow button if you don’t care for this version of me, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of it.