Male Fantasy

on self-portraits and releasing the tight grip of control:

I made these pictures a few months after my breast reduction as I tried to make sense of my changing body.

I lost almost 50 pounds, got surgery, was supposed to be triumphant.

I had anticipated empowerment: me in the driver’s seat, in control of the body I didn’t ask for. In control of the huge chest that made me a certain type of woman.

I was confused. I was thrilled and relieved to be in a smaller body with a smaller chest. But I had betrayed myself in some way- I knew that I wasn’t a different person than I was prior, and I felt disgusted at the idea of being perceived differently. It has always felt so cruel that my chest and my size are signifiers of identity.

I wasn’t in control. I knew my chest would change as it healed, I knew I might gain or lose more weight - my whole existence felt entirely temporary, unreal, fleeting, slipping loose between my fingers. Eating disorder brain came back quick. It was a few pebbles under my foot and then a mudslide and then surrender. I had a really bad year. I gained back all the weight.

I’ve sat with these photos for over a year now. I made them with the intention of documenting my transformation into someone who loved herself. But I was weak and unraveling and afraid.

I always struggle to share my work when I feel that I’ve failed in the original mission. I have felt a lot of shame about how deep the panopticon of patriarchy has its hooks in me. I was supposed to be over that years ago!!! but I’m not. I want to use photography to help heal.

I’m sharing thoughts here in the spirit of moving forward!! I’m trying to give less of a shit. Love you <3

PS. This post is titled Male Fantasy because I listened to that song about 300 times the day I made the images in the fishnets. So thank you Billie for the masterpiece :)