(no subject)

Vivid dreams continue.

Last night's round included a detailed one about trying out different kinds of cornbread, and another in which I suddenly had long hair again. Down to mid-back. "Didn't I just get a haircut?" I said to my friends. "How is it that it's this long again?"

me and the gaze, continued

That little photo essay I linked to has got me thinking. I'm tying in its discussion of controlling the gaze as the best route to power presented to women, with my own reluctance to be in the spotlight. My sense that it limits my scope of behavior. And a friend's shrewd observation that this discomfort is an important component of my gender identity.

You can only hold that power if you perform in certain role-delimited ways. (It's not your power. It's power that is granted to you. You're only borrowing it.)

I have always been uncomfortable with that. My rejection of that particular power paradigm is ancient and fundamental. Not that there's a lot offered to replace it. There's the crux.

It's true that I have never figured out quite how to deal with attracting attention without feeling the pressure to conform to the resultant expectations. I have a myriad of coping mechanisms for it, but my favorites have always involved opting out as much as possible. My favorite places have always been secret. Alone in my room. Alone in my head. Practicing by myself.

I'm trying out new strategies these days, but sometimes it's like rubbing fur the wrong way.