Does me packing mean imitating a man?
When I made a packer myself on my own for the first time. I made one that was the shape and colours of a clitoris enlarged.
My earliest memory of looking down and wanting something of that area was for growth of what I already had not even in the sense of feeling like it lacked but just the feeling of wanting more of it
When I had chest surgery was it to try to have something of a man? Or was it because having autism in a world designed to be so artificially overestimulating made having a body even more overestimulating
and when that same world was also growing from pure patriarchy knowing that my boobs restricted how much of me could be seen and validated
how much of me could take up space how much I was able to perform in the world as myself.
Which only served to feed the oveestimulation I experienced with my body.
I hated the feel of having things move out of sync to the rest of my body, I hated how nothing felt made for them, as if everything was designed to bring attention to them but nothing to carry them.
Beds, and sofas all required extra thought in how to fit with them so that I wasnt pricked by my breasts sensitivities or only able to feel them through how they don't fit the space. Don't get me started on bras or fittings as an award androgynous brown skinned (aka masculine for my ethnicity) autistic girl.
Whenever I investigate all the things of myself, my life my choices, my ways to show up and be viewed as. In a world where they are conceived of as masculine or wanting to be likened to a man I am left feeling unseen
Because not one thing that is seen that way by the western eye actually is. There was never anything of me naturally seeking to be what i wasnt even designed to understood (a man). My body like I assume of all bodies just continued to seek to feel more of itself, even if it had to fight limitations it was taught it had.
Maybe I wanted to be topless and it not be a legal crime. Maybe I wanted to have furniture that didn't serve to remind me that my chest was different to anything else of my body. Maybe I wanted clothes not to simply serve the ever conditioned idea that to be a woman was to be sexualised.
Maybe I didn't want strangers hands on my body to know what bra I must wear only for that bra to feel like a daily torture device. What the hell does that have to do with being a man if not simply showing what is given to him that isnt to me?
Gender dysphoria or patriarchy?
[All art featured is my art of my own self/chest]
