a
skirt. a gift. a gift from a faraway place. a retreat, holiday, escape.
a colourful piece of fabric. exotic. vibrant. summer. i wear this
beautiful cloth as a skirt, a dress, a provocation. i am aware of its
possible connotations, yes. the othering of these remote 'cultures' that
we might visit to find ourselves (we are not the other). but. but. but.
i am the other (am i?). i am the other of men and the other of european
and the other of the other. and, so, when i wear orientalism i wear it
as self-exoticism, as femme as fuck you. i wear it to tell you i won't
wait for you to position my body - i don't care for your vision of me. i
position my body right wherever: woman, sensual, exotic, erotic.
signifying goddess. i know these are the words, concepts, prejudices
that will pop into your mind. your orientalism/sexism. i fuel it. to
others' peril? perhaps. this is the danger of this game.
in
class we talk. i feel a familiar latinamerican discomfort (compounded
by naturalisation): not european, not not european. i think: i feel
there are points of contact (or divergence? or overlap?) between the
politics of passing and the politics of appropriation. i think/feel.
western/oriental.
i didn't say this in class: the
official nationality of people of my country is not 'Uruguayan' but
'Oriental'. this is what my Uruguayan passport (if I had one) would say
'Nacionalidad: Oriental'. my country so shy it doesn't have a name, but a
location. 'the republic to the east of (oriental to) the river
Uruguay'. oriental. eastern. southeastern (current geolocation: London
SE).
i also didn't say this in class: i start this weekend a Thai Yoga Massage course.
i
couldn't say this in class: as i waited for the tube in Canada Water a
pair of African women checked out my skirt and discussed it with smiles.
I didn't talk to them, but walked up and down the platform in front of
them, discreetly giving them a show. pretty pleased, they seemed.
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