Exhibitionism
Hide the kids, hide the weak of heart, and hide your clothes.
Exhibitionism -
/ˌɛksɪˈbɪʃənɪz(ə)m/
noun
/I'll try my best to explain some words that may cause difficulty to others, but don't hesitate to ask me in comments, if you need further explanation/
Exhibitionism is known to be quite a popular kink/fetish among cis-hetero and queer people, but what draws people into that?
In a safe, consenting environment (a place where everyone agrees to and feels good with what's going on) this is as simple as just showing yourself and your sexuality to others. Because of shame (Insert link to my post with the same title. If you cat promote yourself, how in the hell can you promote anybody else, am I right, Ladies?), the shame, that follows us through life, we are paralyzed and are disabled to love ourselves. So the thought of someone seeing you naked, the parts of you, that you feel are the worst, is at least terrifying. Imagine someone sees you naked! Imagine someone catches you kissing someone!
*Gasp and clutch the pearls*
The shame, the humiliation it would cause is unbearable to some, but maybe… just maybe…it can be pleasant at the same time? The relief of someone actually seeing you. You have to strip and show your weaknesses and ugliness, do something that is being shunned upon and is actually quite a disgusting thing.
So… exhibitionism is a desire to reveal some parts of yourself that are deemed wrong, disgusting or sick by society. And if we go further with that definition…a lot of sad things come to mind. My brother, when I kind of came out to him, said something in the lines of: “I don't care who you sleep with, what you do in your bedroom, but you had no right to tell our parents about it, knowing their worldview”.
There is a lot to unpack in that encounter, but actually we don't have to. There is a nice bow on it, so let's not touch it.
A lot of people treat queer people expressing themselves as some kind of exhibitionism. Their existence, celebration of life or fight for change is a form of socially unacceptable and immoral action. It's viewed as a destructive action, corrupting and causing distress to others around them. Some people can tolerate you, they just don’t want “your sexuality to be shoved into their face”. You can be different, you just need to wear a trench coat and button it properly, so we will never know what's under there. And no matter how hurtful it may be to you, at least we will keep everything “normal”, whatever this world means.
Representation
/ˌrɛprɪz(ɛ)nˈteɪʃn/
noun
In a society, where being yourself is out of a norm, expression, revelation of your nature is a form of exhibitionism. But happily, now we have Netflix fixing the world by putting token Queer/POC (people of color) in every series, now it has a cool word for it—representation.
Yey! Clap your hands for representation!
People understood that seeing yourself on a screen, in books, advertisements, just out in the world, brings you comfort, motivates you and overall is quite important for you. Black girls couldn't play with dolls that looked like them, little kids on wheelchairs almost never saw cool disabled people in movies, old people couldn't fall in love in books. I mean... They are just old, so why should we care.
Surprisingly t's essential to uplift, motivate, comfort, validate, celebrate—to represent people, ideas, stories, cultures. But before it was a woke and cool thing to do, people were freaks, weirdos, exhibitionist, who pushed their agenda, ideology and …weirdness into “normal” peoples faces. Before you can have representation, you have to fight for it, to prove your worth and place at the table. You have to provoke and vulgarly shove your weird ugliness into faces, so people could recognize, admit your existence. Representation isn’t made by people, who decided to show of diversity, it had been and still is being fought for by marginalized and unrepresented.
On a more personal note, I feel the importance of expressing myself more and more. When I was 15, visiting my sister in Berlin, she invited me to accompany her during her first tattoo session. I was shivering from the horror: my amazing sister is smoking, having her first tattoo done, and the tattoo master have just kissed his boyfriend in front of my eyes. The hell is on Earth, and it's in Berlin. However, the more I got in contact with that creepy side of the world, the more I was able to understand it and accept the parts of myself, that caused me so much pain and dysphoria.
Now I feel responsibility to be a queer cancer patient, to be an immigrant, Belarusian, to be a person, who takes antidepressants and had experienced abuse. My burden is heavy, but i bravely fight for a better future, you are all welcome. My battleground is a corridor at the hospital, where I strut in my flamboyant outfits, so kids can see a boy who wears nail polish and has blue hair. So they see me cooking for myself, walking quite well, sick and happy. My war zone are dating apps, where I'm a cripple, who’s unapologetically sexual and happy.
I want to be visible, to exhibitionistickally (I don’t care, I can invent words in other languages too) show all the parts that make me weird, so people can accept some parts of themselves, won’t be afraid to talk about death, illness, sexuality, gender, nationality, at least with me. I had a goal to be unrecognizable as non-native to Polish people. Now I want them to know I’m not one of them, that I’m Belarusian, and I want them to know how it sometimes feels to be on my side. I dance on the streets listening to music. I ask hard questions during classes. Sometimes I get complimented on my outfits and nails by nurses, sometimes I’m being called a faggot by some men at a clinic. I am in a process of a some sort of investigation, because I wrote complaint about me facing a discrimination on the basic of ableism at my university. I write a public blog where I talk about abuse, depression, sexuality and… life of a person, however that persons' life looks like. And I sense the importance of that.
I do it for myself now, but also for the little Denis. A little kid, who was afraid to dance, who had anxiety because of the clothes he wore, who wanted to be unidentifiable, who wanted to be accepted, but couldn’t accept himself. And now I seek exhibitionists. I'm a voyeur of freaks, people in dogs masks, immigrants, nomads, cripples, and nerds. I squeal from joy, when I encounter someone, who makes my inner demons howl in terror and anger. Moreover, I want to make those demons ashamed and disgusted, I want to make them as discomfortable as they made me before. I want to make them feel loved and accepted, I’m desperate to learn from people who broaden my horizons. They inspire me to be myself, to heal the parts I still subconsciously hurt. I just want to spread the simplest and most important thing we all need—stickers with puppies and kittens on telegram also known as love.
So don’t be too surprised, when you’ll see me get weirder with time, it means I'm going to the right direction. And as always I’ll be your exhibitionist, showing all the weirdness i posses.
Exhibitionism -
/ˌɛksɪˈbɪʃənɪz(ə)m/
noun
- extravagant behavior that is intended to attract attention to oneself.
- a compulsion to display one's genitals or other intimate body parts or to behave sexually in public.
/I'll try my best to explain some words that may cause difficulty to others, but don't hesitate to ask me in comments, if you need further explanation/
Exhibitionism is known to be quite a popular kink/fetish among cis-hetero and queer people, but what draws people into that?
In a safe, consenting environment (a place where everyone agrees to and feels good with what's going on) this is as simple as just showing yourself and your sexuality to others. Because of shame (Insert link to my post with the same title. If you cat promote yourself, how in the hell can you promote anybody else, am I right, Ladies?), the shame, that follows us through life, we are paralyzed and are disabled to love ourselves. So the thought of someone seeing you naked, the parts of you, that you feel are the worst, is at least terrifying. Imagine someone sees you naked! Imagine someone catches you kissing someone!
*Gasp and clutch the pearls*
The shame, the humiliation it would cause is unbearable to some, but maybe… just maybe…it can be pleasant at the same time? The relief of someone actually seeing you. You have to strip and show your weaknesses and ugliness, do something that is being shunned upon and is actually quite a disgusting thing.
So… exhibitionism is a desire to reveal some parts of yourself that are deemed wrong, disgusting or sick by society. And if we go further with that definition…a lot of sad things come to mind. My brother, when I kind of came out to him, said something in the lines of: “I don't care who you sleep with, what you do in your bedroom, but you had no right to tell our parents about it, knowing their worldview”.
There is a lot to unpack in that encounter, but actually we don't have to. There is a nice bow on it, so let's not touch it.
A lot of people treat queer people expressing themselves as some kind of exhibitionism. Their existence, celebration of life or fight for change is a form of socially unacceptable and immoral action. It's viewed as a destructive action, corrupting and causing distress to others around them. Some people can tolerate you, they just don’t want “your sexuality to be shoved into their face”. You can be different, you just need to wear a trench coat and button it properly, so we will never know what's under there. And no matter how hurtful it may be to you, at least we will keep everything “normal”, whatever this world means.
Representation
/ˌrɛprɪz(ɛ)nˈteɪʃn/
noun
- the action of speaking or acting on behalf of someone or the state of being so represented.
- the description or portrayal of someone or something in a particular way.
In a society, where being yourself is out of a norm, expression, revelation of your nature is a form of exhibitionism. But happily, now we have Netflix fixing the world by putting token Queer/POC (people of color) in every series, now it has a cool word for it—representation.
Yey! Clap your hands for representation!
People understood that seeing yourself on a screen, in books, advertisements, just out in the world, brings you comfort, motivates you and overall is quite important for you. Black girls couldn't play with dolls that looked like them, little kids on wheelchairs almost never saw cool disabled people in movies, old people couldn't fall in love in books. I mean... They are just old, so why should we care.
Surprisingly t's essential to uplift, motivate, comfort, validate, celebrate—to represent people, ideas, stories, cultures. But before it was a woke and cool thing to do, people were freaks, weirdos, exhibitionist, who pushed their agenda, ideology and …weirdness into “normal” peoples faces. Before you can have representation, you have to fight for it, to prove your worth and place at the table. You have to provoke and vulgarly shove your weird ugliness into faces, so people could recognize, admit your existence. Representation isn’t made by people, who decided to show of diversity, it had been and still is being fought for by marginalized and unrepresented.
On a more personal note, I feel the importance of expressing myself more and more. When I was 15, visiting my sister in Berlin, she invited me to accompany her during her first tattoo session. I was shivering from the horror: my amazing sister is smoking, having her first tattoo done, and the tattoo master have just kissed his boyfriend in front of my eyes. The hell is on Earth, and it's in Berlin. However, the more I got in contact with that creepy side of the world, the more I was able to understand it and accept the parts of myself, that caused me so much pain and dysphoria.
Now I feel responsibility to be a queer cancer patient, to be an immigrant, Belarusian, to be a person, who takes antidepressants and had experienced abuse. My burden is heavy, but i bravely fight for a better future, you are all welcome. My battleground is a corridor at the hospital, where I strut in my flamboyant outfits, so kids can see a boy who wears nail polish and has blue hair. So they see me cooking for myself, walking quite well, sick and happy. My war zone are dating apps, where I'm a cripple, who’s unapologetically sexual and happy.
I want to be visible, to exhibitionistickally (I don’t care, I can invent words in other languages too) show all the parts that make me weird, so people can accept some parts of themselves, won’t be afraid to talk about death, illness, sexuality, gender, nationality, at least with me. I had a goal to be unrecognizable as non-native to Polish people. Now I want them to know I’m not one of them, that I’m Belarusian, and I want them to know how it sometimes feels to be on my side. I dance on the streets listening to music. I ask hard questions during classes. Sometimes I get complimented on my outfits and nails by nurses, sometimes I’m being called a faggot by some men at a clinic. I am in a process of a some sort of investigation, because I wrote complaint about me facing a discrimination on the basic of ableism at my university. I write a public blog where I talk about abuse, depression, sexuality and… life of a person, however that persons' life looks like. And I sense the importance of that.
I do it for myself now, but also for the little Denis. A little kid, who was afraid to dance, who had anxiety because of the clothes he wore, who wanted to be unidentifiable, who wanted to be accepted, but couldn’t accept himself. And now I seek exhibitionists. I'm a voyeur of freaks, people in dogs masks, immigrants, nomads, cripples, and nerds. I squeal from joy, when I encounter someone, who makes my inner demons howl in terror and anger. Moreover, I want to make those demons ashamed and disgusted, I want to make them as discomfortable as they made me before. I want to make them feel loved and accepted, I’m desperate to learn from people who broaden my horizons. They inspire me to be myself, to heal the parts I still subconsciously hurt. I just want to spread the simplest and most important thing we all need—stickers with puppies and kittens on telegram also known as love.
So don’t be too surprised, when you’ll see me get weirder with time, it means I'm going to the right direction. And as always I’ll be your exhibitionist, showing all the weirdness i posses.
thank you for a such inspiring post and the encourigment to be who you are. But, I have strong feeling that your perspective is the believe that behind every human being there is a raingbow creature full of potential and creativity deep inside, which I also share... but sometimes I also think, maybe I am wrong, maybe I am surrounded by people, who already reach their potential? Who am I to jurge? And my struggle as queer person is a luck of acceptance aka tolerance towards oter human being where I don´t let them be. And they are grey, stubborn, aggresive and narrow minded. But God loves them as well... do you know what I mean? aren't your judgements arrogant?
ReplyDeleteI do believe there is a rainbow creature inside everyone (not necessarily queer, but at least sincere, full of feelings/pacions/desire to live). There is a catch - a lot of us are unhappy, hurt and survive rather than live. So it's very hard to see that magic inside.
DeleteThe other thing is not accepting people, who's mindset is limiting the freedom and happiness of others. I won't tolerate that and won't allow them to hurt me or others. So I don't feel guilty for not accepting everyone.
At least I try.