My Best Armour
- Pastel Supernova
- 6 days ago
- 2 min read
When I am enraged, my instinct is to rip off my clothes before confronting my opposition or situation, ready for a battle. Although I'm not the violent type, and I have never been in a physical altercation, I do believe in facing my obstacles, even if that means violence may present itself. I also feel the most powerful when I'm naked.
Once, while on a residency at Macau nightclub, a brawly acrobat who had smashed a bottle on another dancer's head the week prior -how she kept her job is beyond me- found out I wasn't planning on birthing any children, and took the news as a personal attack. This chica, who was no friend of mine, refused to let it go. While I packed my bag at the end of the night, she kept cussing at me in her native tongue, but during my weeks there, I had learned enough to understand the depths of her insults. I took stock of the facts: I still had over a month of nightly shows booked with her ahead of me. She prided herself on having gotten away with her previous bottle smash. She was now officially & personally invested in my procreation plans. This probably wasn't going to end well.
As I walked out of the changeroom, I understood this maniac, who was yelling at me from her locker, might be revved enough to run up behind me with a beating, and she was also unhinged enough to wait for another opportune moment. So, I turned around, walked back in, and faced the beast. It was late. I was in no mood for an asshole to shit on my personal decision, and if she was going to hit me, it had better be while other performers were present. I stood in front of her, took off most of my clothes, and asked her if she was fixed on holding onto this anger. I'm not sure what she saw as I stood in my skivvies in front of a dozen Russian pole dancers, but my Amazonian ancestors must have been present because she was shocked enough to take it back, apologize, and eventually buy my entire wardrobe before I left the country. But I digress.
A dear friend thinks that my wanting to disrobe in a time of conflict is insane. The reason it makes perfect sense to me is that the naked body, the naked female body, My Body, seems to have been under scrutiny since the beginning of time. It is the thing people/ corporations/ religions, and strangers want to control the most. The naked body can be innocent, beautiful, aggressive, seductive, comical, mysterious, and terrifying all at once. Why shouldn't I feel it is my best armor? Lucky for the fearful, I'm not often incensed.
Lucky for me, artist Louis Chapeau wanted to explore these feelings in a photoshoot.
A note from the artist:
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