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My passing fetish
October 04, 2004
From junior high school through most of college, I was a messy punky gothic kid: funny colored hair, painted and studded leather jacket, smeared makeup, jewelry from the hardware store, ripped up clothes sewn back together with leopard print patches and dental floss… you know the drill.
This kind of alterna-drag gave people a very limited perception of me. They didn’t see the kid who launched into the local poetry reading scene at a very young age. They didn’t see the kid who was an accomplished equestrian. They didn’t see the kid who was the founder of her high school literary magazine and an honor roll student. They saw the freak, the bad kid.
In the last few years, I’ve grown away from the freak caricature into something different, more subtle. The change has been partly due to laziness and unwillingness to stain my bathtub with every color of the hair dye rainbow. But the bulk of this change is due to the fact that I’m more secure in who I am, and I know that the rebellion that really counts is in the mind. Granted, I am not against body modification in all its glory - after all, I am “discreetly” tattooed and pierced (I put that word in quotes because in so many ways I loathe its implication of hiding and concealment).
I don’t scoff at those who choose to decorate themselves with symbols of countercultures. But I’ve gotten really really fascinated with my ability to pass amongst the norms. This passing fetish happened accidentally - so accidentally that I didn’t know what was going on.
Three years ago, when I met Jane for the first time - she was interviewing me for a job - by her own admission she couldn’t figure me out, because I seemed like such a “nice” and well behaved girl, not the deviant I’ve since proven myself to be. I didn’t realize at the time that I gave this good girl impression, because I think I was walking around with this kind of residual identity, assuming that people would react adversely to me, and judge me harshly immediately upon encountering me.
I’ve recently begun to really play with this passing business - especially within the realm of my life as a sex worker. It seems that I can really capitalize on the “good grad student on the outside, dirty dirty slut on the inside” thing. In some respects, this is kind of hot - its this very thing that attracts me to my boyfriend Dirck, who essentially looks like an Aryan nation twink.
Maybe the reason I’m questioning this game of passing is because over the weekend it dawned on me that my whore persona is the same persona I put on when I’m at school. Well, you know, except without the incidental detail of the fucking for money. As both a whore and as a grad student, I conceal my vibrant sexual life of sex educator, porn promoter, polyamorous slut and collector of sexual accoutrements. I’m not sure if I should be mining this for meaning, or just letting it be.
Posted by Dacia at October 4, 2004 04:38 PM
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