Also before I digress too much further let me tell you, Koko Taylor is a Bad. MotherFucker.
I repeat. Bad. Mother.Fucker.
Back to what I was thinking when I started.
First of all I want to share that I've joined the ranks of those on Deviant Art. Find me here. I joined quite awhile ago so I could look at nudies but have since put up a few of my quasi artistic things there and found friends and some totally awesome stuff. Warning if you peruse my favorites and you are looked in you will see girl ass.
As I said in my quick scribble journal there I am determined to reconnect with the things I find sacred. In my body and my life. That means I am going to start dancing again, and making my fugly little collages and things because I think they are beautiful and they make me happy.
On the Fatosphere I ran across two fairly divergent ideas along the same theme of judgment of womens looks.
On one hand you have this view, where the thin model is castigated for her thinness and Old Navy is put in the OMG why did they do that camp.
And then on the other hand you have TR who says she is sick of women being judged solely on their appearance.
This sort of thing is something I think about and talk about with people I know a lot. I think that it is human to want to reject what we don't want. However, I don't think it behooves anyone to go into viewing another human being and decided that their body is unacceptable and that it's unacceptable for them to show their body, or be shown. I don't like that.
Looking at this conversation over at Racialicious puts a bug in my ear. On one hand yes, I don't like the way TMZ (just go click) captioned the photo of Serena Williams.
However I also don't like what the OP had to say.
Now, I am not a regular TMZ reader, but I know they tend to rip into celebrities for any misstep or fashion faux pas. And this photo of Serena definitely qualifies as a “Oh girl, handle that!” moment.
(Psst…Serena, a sarong would really help. As would beach shorts. You have to work with your ass, not against it.)
It makes me want to know why is it okay for you (the you in this case being Latoya who posted the article) to comment on what is and isn't appropriate about Serena's body and how she is presenting herself, but it's bad for other people to comment because their comments are couched in racist terms? Granted a lot of the comments at TMZ are in fact fucking awful and ugly.
However, I also find it awful and ugly that Serena gets another hit from someone who at first glance looks to be on the defensive about the photo.
Does that make sense?
In a nutshell I suppose what I'm getting at is that no, none of it is ok. It's not okay to make racist comments about another persons ass, it's not ok to pass judgment on another persons ass because they don't have it covered/revealed how you would. It's not ok in my view to create a conversation that begins with a DOWN WITH TEH SKINNIES kind of vibe.
I am pushing my own agenda here (but it's my fucking sandbox so I can) but I don't believe that beauty has to be all or nothing one way or the other. I personally find beauty in a hugely diverse spectrum of human beings. Even when said human beings are being fucking douchebags, the diversity of the species is pretty fucking cool.
Also found via TR is the Library of Congress Photo stream at Flickr it is pretty fucking cool. I skipped reading the comments on the photos of actual humans because, as I said, some human beings are douchebags and I'm not in the mood today. Read the afore-linked entry over at The Rotund for more of that conversation.
Back to beauty.
I probably have mentioned before at some point that I am a total Asharah fangirl and want to dance like her when I grow up. I have been reading her blog BellyDance Paladin and I loved this entry on rhythm.
Someone gave me a copy of her instructional DVD but I've yet to be able to do it. :( This year, end of summer man.
I have watched it and I really enjoy how she speaks about dance. I also really dig Amira who's Bellydance 101 I have and will resume in the next couple of weeks after I get a new boob holder. I have a big issue with how someone presents something and both have a very warm and not snotty way of presenting and that makes me squee.
I have been a lover of bellydance since I was about 7-9 and my favorite babysitter Donna was a belly dancer. She would sometimes let me help her get ready, or show me how to shimmy etc. It wasn't until a few years ago that I discovered oh HAI other people dig it too and HOLY CRAP I can LEARN! It's all very connected to how I feel about my body.
I feel like connecting with my body while doing something that makes me feel damn good and shiny, is a sacred thing. Shut up if you call me a hippy I will hose you with patchouli, but seriously I do feel this way. The happiest I've been in this flesh vehicle has been when I've been doing things that I really really love.
And dancing happens to top the list.
Where I stumble is the fact that I have a bad back and shitty joints and I get frustrated because the soul is wiling but the flesh says, "Slow your roll". And the two argue and I am cranky.
I am getting better though.
I do still love to dance and this is why I advocate some booty shaking for the self love.
There is something incredibly (and I hate HATE to use such fluffy language here) freeing and yes empowering about shaking it whenever you goddamn well feel like it.
To quote Missy Elliot and I say this to you solemnly my lovely readers,
"Shake that, shake that, jiggle that fat."
I will do as Missy so eloquently decrees whenever, where ever I feel the need.
I do a little dance in the grocery store when a good song comes on the Muzak. I do a little dance while sending faxes at work. I do a little dance when I'm making what smells to be an excellent cup of coffee.
I will do a victory booty dance whenever I feel victorious.
Sometimes I will full on geek out at home and go crazy. Self ass slapping, boob shaking, karate kicking, John Travolta worthy discoing, booty shaking, dutty whining (though I really am not good at that and don't like risking neck injury) until I am sweaty, out of breath, have probably managed to shake off a piece of clothing or get my panties if I'm wearing them stuck way up in the unknown and then I giggle and smile and sit down.
Now, no matter what shape your body may be in. You might be in a wheelchair, you might be on crutches, you might have a bad back shitty knees and vertigo. It's all good. You might have a bony skinny flat ass, you might have no boobs, you might have bingo wings and matter of fact you may even have yourself some jelly rolls.
It's. All. Good.
As the first Drag Queen who ever let me wear her tiara said, "work what you got."
Okay I'm spent. I'm going to nibble on a chocolate rice cake make some tea and examine my poor cold wet feets.