Am I Sexy Now?

Source: Charles Deluvio

This might seem like a self-indulgent fish for comments, but I promise you it’s not. It’s not about me. It’s about this irk that exists around sexuality. As a woman, I do love to feel sexy in myself but as a performer, it scares me. If a tree falls in the woods, does anyone hear it? If I’m sexy and nobody tells me, am I sexy? If they tell me, is it creepy? Losing yourself in music and in movement is so freeing. You can connect with your body in ways that are almost impossible to explain. Giving in to that animalistic side of you can be incredibly intimidating when you become aware you actually exist outside your own perception. 

That actually fucking terrifies me. I exist outside my own perception. How? I am the only one who truly knows who I am and yet opinions are formulated outside of my control, based on interactions where very little information has been transacted. If you have a bad day and snap at the server in the garage while you’re getting petrol, you can be sure that the server hates you. That server has now formulated a whole reality that exists outside of your control. That server has now imagined a life for you, where you hate your spouse and scream at your kids. It’s not true of course, you’re not even married. But that server doesn’t care. That one interaction has solidified an opinion you can never change. Sure, you can apologise, but at that moment you were the devil incarnate.

It’s the same with sexuality and performing for me. I align with my mind, body and spirit and I let go. I am me and for a brief fleeting moment, I have connected with all things Claire and everything beyond. It’s the aftermath. The paranoia will destroy ya. I torment myself with the question “oh God, what if my Dad saw?” “Oh God that was so cringe, who do I think I am?” and the thing is I don’t actually care. At least not until the suspicions are confirmed and I hear some dickhead saying something I didn’t want to hear or read a comment that tells me how embarrassing I was. BAM! It hits.

“I exist outside my own perception. “

But so do you. “You” reading this exist outside of your own perception. How many people a day pass you in the street and make assumptions of you? Assumptions based on nothing but your clothing, or the look you gave them. Judge you based on the projection of their own moods. How wildly fascinating! Some of you reading this, have no other basis of understanding for who I am than the words you are reading or pictures on the social platforms I host. That’s only a tiny portion of who I am. I would say it only makes up less than 10% of who I am. Yet, this will be enough for decisions to be made about my character, my values, my beliefs. How mental is that?

Imagine then how it feels to be sexy on stage. To let go and be free. To connect to the audience, the music and the sense of self in an animalistic tribal way. Everyone in that crowd gets to make a decision on my character based on the person I was in that moment. There’s also this idea of being dangled in front of the band as the ‘shiny thing.’ I work with some amazing musicians and for it to be overshadowed by a female body is really unfortunate. 

(Source: Alexis Fauvet

Then I’m reminded of the everyday ‘shady sexism’. The sly remarks, reserved only for the female audience. The inappropriate touching, the blatant refusal to speak to the ‘female’ in the band, the assumption that your sexuality has been weaponized to advance your career. The defence of this behaviour is that the female herself is ‘difficult’ a ‘bitch’ or my favourite ‘diva’. It even goes into the realm of ‘slut-shaming’. There are circles within the music industry, that becomes a little incestuous. Musicians meeting musicians, collaborations that cause non-existent emotional bonds. Some real bonds that lead to long term relationships, fuelled by the creative drive. It’s an odd and wonderful thing to observe. However, in these circumstances, you will often hear the female be referred to as a ‘groupie’ or a ‘slut’ or sometimes even ‘crazy bitch’. It’s fascinating, in a self-professed ‘woke’ society, these tropes still exist. Especially when who sleeps with who is really nobody else’s business.

Embracing sexuality is a strange thing. For one, we’re goddesses, like, come on. Look at us. We should be worshipped in temples like the good old days. (sidebar maybe not, ancient myths are also quite rapey. Look them up. I will wait. See, violence against women is not a new concept).

Embracing sexuality can be uncomfortable and intimidating, but putting yourself out there in any way is also uncomfortable and terrifying.

You have nothing to be afraid of. People are going to talk, assume and presume. Let them. Their opinion does not define you, in fact, nothing does. Definition insinuates there is no room for change and you can change your life at any moment. Be sexy and be free. 

The irony is not lost on me that while writing this I’m in flannel pyjamas and a fluffy nightgown, in dire need of a shower. Am I sexy now?

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