Donald, have you ever been to the Orient?

Padaung women (Myanmar) are dolled up before their appearance in a circus in England, circa 1950s.

Tropi-Quiles Music Mix

Tropi-Quiles by Bambajuana on Mixcloud

My Sluthood, Myself

I had never thought of my self as a Casual Encounters kind of girl. I’d read them on occasion, sure, out of fascination, horror, horniness. I’d even, once in a long while, in lonely desperate moments, posted an ad, not with the intention of actually meeting anyone, but because sometimes knowing you have a bunch of bad options that you’re rejecting feels better than feeling like you have no options at all. And it was that exact state I found myself in one Friday night last fall, after having been blown apart yet again by some minor rejection that felt so huge it sent me to my bed. I hadn’t showered or shaved or left the house in days. And so, glass of wine in hand, wearing a robe and dirty sweatpants, I posted an ad just so I could watch the replies come in and feel like I had some kind of choice in the world. That somebody wanted me, even if they were gross and I’d never want them back.

I’m telling you this because sluthood is scary. Because we’ve been taught to fear it all our lives, and that training doesn’t just go away because we understand the agenda behind it. And because there are real risks involved. Society likes to punish slutty women. And so do a lot of individual men, some of whom frequent Craigslist Casual Encounters. Continue reading...

Exact + Attitude = Exactitude

Unique. A word that has been consistently misused and abused; ripped open and voided of all meaning, and the tattered remains signify "interesting" or "unusual" more than the original definition of " one of a kind." 

While working at a record label where my role, essentially, was to find hip new neighborhoods for said company to flood the markets, I was confronted with boundless boutiques, health food stores, confectionaries, and art galleries who branded themselves "unique." My year-long stint in this position has cultivated an incredibly strong dislike for the harloting of unique (yes I am aware harloting is not a real word, but a verb form of harlot needs to be made).

We all think we are unique, and we are, but only a small awesome few are truly unique when it comes to style. Which leads me to Exactitudes, a fascinating anthropological study spanning a decade (and still ongoing) of people's styles from around the world. The two Rotterdam artists responsible for this project have provided an almost scientific record of how people distinguish themselves by assuming a group identity. 

From what I understand the process goes like this: they get to a city, hang out for a few days (usually at a McDonald's) to observe the styles, and then start inviting people to be photographed. If they are in their hometown, they'll bring them back to their studio, if not, they set up a mini studio on the street. Models are not told how to pose, although they are shown a photo of the first model. 

The combination of identical frameworks, similar poses, and strict dress codes makes for a complete eruption of how we see ourselves and others. 

Ultimately, you belong to the group who accepts you. So which Exactitude are you?

View of Haiti from Dominican Republic

"...and the devil himself lights the lamps in order to show everything in an unreal light."

Gogol, Nevsky Prospect

Nollywood

Ugly Tourist by Jamaica Kincaid

The thing you always suspected about yourself the minute you became a tourist is true: A tourist is an ugly human being. You are not an ugly person all the time; you are not an ugly person ordinarily; you are not an ugly person day to day. From day to day, you are a nice person. From day to day, all the people who are supposed to love you on the whole do. From day to day, as you walk down a busy street in the large and modern and prosperous city in which you work and live, dismayed, puzzled (a cliché, but only a cliché can explain you) at how alone you feel in this crowd, how awful it is to go unnoticed, how awful it is to go unloved, even as you are surrounded by more people than you could possibly get to know in a lifetime that lasted for millennia, and then out of the corner of your eye you see someone looking at you and absolute pleasure is written all over that person's face, and then you realize that you are not as revolting a presence as you think you are (for that look just told you so). Click to continue reading.

Maxim Photo