WOMXN ON CANVAS
Oil paint on canvas
As womxn our bodies and our emotions have been used as weapons against us since forever. “Calm down” they’ll say, demanding that we restrain our voices and rein in our emotions to meet their level of comfort. Be mild, be manageable, look here this is what a womxn SHOULD be. We are smothered with images and words telling us that we are other, our bodies too big, too broken, too real, our voices too loud, our emotions too raw. They [s]cream it in our faces until we accept in ourselves that we missed the mark, but don’t fret, with enough effort we can turn our “too much” into a secret buried inside a passible form.
Fetishized, brutalized, objectified—being a woman is an experience in otherhood. We are held up and glorified so they can get a clear shot. This world teaches womxn who are “other” how to die by rendering them invisible.
We celebrate womxn who “look young for their age” and cheer on low numbers on the scale, and in age. The higher your numbers in age or weight, the less valuable you are. Condemned is the angry womxn, the womxn who doesn’t want to be nurturing, the screaming womxn, the loud womxn. She’s called shrill, obnoxious, abrasive. Bitch. Strangled are those who dare to take up space through size, or time through age. And don’t ever forget that the darker your skin, the more angry you are, no matter your tone, and the more the world will resent the space you occupy. Beaten are the womxn who are quiet, who embrace their femininity and sexuality, who don clothes that don’t match who they’re told they are.
On The Rag
Emotional is the weapon used to hold us in the cage non-womxn crafted out of “facts”. Our images have been distorted and used against us—I call upon the secret self to display unapologetically, to sing our emotions into the world until the air vibrates with them and the glass ceiling falls at our feet. In my work, I choose to celebrate the raw woman, all of her wrinkles and sags, the folds and fat, colors and tattoos, abled and disabled, the youth and aging side by side while the “too much” of these womxn reverberates in the air around them deflecting the world with her reality. Witness the fight. Honor the fighter. These are our bodies, our emotions. We stand together demanding respect and visibility—Emotional? Damn right, we’re a tsunami of emotion and if you continue to stand against us we’ll drown you.
All Dried Up