Keep Pushin'

I'm torn in three directions right now. Finish posting the stuff from January, since I prefer to release material chronologically? Post what I just shot, to keep it relevant to the season? Or continue working through my backlog, to bring my older material up to date? (And spending time contemplating it only exacerbates the problem). Although having a buffer of content ready for release takes some pressure off of the stress of being pushed to maintain a regular posting schedule, I don't like the feeling of being drowned in my own work.

In a perfect world, I would post what I have as soon as I have it, and I wouldn't be pressured by my hosting platform with the threat of losing subscribers (or even my account) if I need to take several months' rest before I'm inspired to produce something new. This is a fear I have - periods of drought - even though in practical reality, I have the opposite problem: I produce so much, I can't process it (let alone release it) fast enough.

Every so often (as I've done before) I tell myself, from here on out, anything new I produce I'll release right away, so it doesn't add to the considerable backlog I'm already dealing with. But every single time, without fail, I end up producing so much I simply can't keep up with it. And so in the end I'll have sporadic bouts of releases, with other shoots left by the wayside, and a backlog that keeps growing, instead of shrinking.

And the result is, I'm left with a chaotic mess, and it's a struggle just to keep things organized. And I like things organized. The only thing that would help my problem is if I stopped taking pictures. But I love taking pictures! And, well, I have a compulsion to do it. Though I don't think it's a bad problem to have - being too prolific. It's not like an unhealthy addiction. It's good for my art, because I'm constantly getting experience, and the more pictures you take, the more likely you are to get some great ones along the way.

So I guess I'll just keep pushin' on. For now, at least. I just wish I got paid more to do it. Even minimum wage part time would seem like an embarrassment of riches to this starving artist...

Destined For Nudist Retirement

So, we're heading in to another summer season, and I honestly don't know how I'm supposed to keep up with my output as a photographer. I still have pictures from January to share - to say nothing of the two-and-a-half year backlog I'm working through. I keep telling myself I'm going to learn how to enjoy nude recreation without taking pictures, but to be honest - and I guess this is something I'll never agree with nudists on - as enjoyable as just being nude in the great outdoors is, I derive a significant amount of pleasure from the artistic challenge of creating beautiful images of naked beauty. It gives me an excuse to be out there, it gives me something to do while I'm out there, and it keeps me in shape.

The problem is, I can't keep up with my own output, and I'm worried that as I grow older, I won't have the stamina to satisfy that drive - and although I might be able to spend my "retirement" sitting comfortably in front of a computer screen, processing photos from summers past, I can already tell you that spending hours upon hours meticulously clicking a mouse is exhausting in its own way, and my productivity is only going to decline with age.

Maybe I should just buy a plot on the grounds of a nudist camp, where I'd have no choice but to put my camera in storage, join a naked volleyball league, and learn to enjoy the immediate day-to-day pleasure of being surrounded by (mostly) like-minded naked people. Even though they would mostly be old and out of shape - as I might someday be (I can't avoid getting old, but I'd like to believe I'll still be able to keep myself in shape) - there's always the promise of an occasional visitor, exceptionally young and fit, to look forward to seeing on the grounds every now and then.

I don't think that makes me a villain (and I think a lot of nudists would agree, if they were being honest). It just isn't fair to lump those who appreciate beauty in with those who would seek to abuse and exploit it. But if that makes me a villain, then we might as well just burn this whole twisted world to the ground. For - to paraphrase George R. R. Martin - only a monster god would give a man eyes and tell him he must forever keep them shut, and never look at all the beauty in the world.

Naked Beauty Therapy

I had been reviewing some photos I'd taken naked in the woods recently - thinking about the power of the effect of seeing an attractive body fully naked in the midst of a landscape, whether natural or manmade. That "wow" factor elicited by the starkness of the nudity, placed matter-of-factly into the context of our day-to-day lives - it's one of my favorite things in the world, and it's a large part of the reason I continue to shoot nude photography.

Then I was standing at the window, looking out at the lush greenery of the grass growing wild in the early spring, and I thought back to a time last summer when I had the pleasure of waking up at camp, and taking some pictures fully naked in the bright morning sunshine, at the edge of a wide, open field. And I got to thinking.

It's difficult to find people with which to celebrate the beauty of the human body. Join the perverts, and they'll want to make everything about sex (and anyway, what you're willing to do counts more than how you look). Join the nudists, and they'll scold you for rationing beauty (while insisting that fat, old bodies are as beautiful as young, trim ones). Isn't there a middle ground?

Where do I sign up to join a retreat where you get to hang out with beautiful naked people, in a way that's respectful, yet honest and life-affirming? What a salve for the soul that would be. I'd pay good money for that experience. Nudism can be that in its best moments, but it's always left up to chance, and you risk being ostracized if you dare admit that you enjoy the view.

I understand why perverts have to hide from nudists, but why do I have to hide from nudists the thing that distinguishes me from the perverts? It's like, on the scale of erotic aestheticism, I'm too focused on attractiveness to be a nudist, but not focused enough on sex to be a pervert. I don't belong anywhere.

If I had any power or influence or money or charisma, I'd open a naked beauty therapy (NBT) resort. I'd hire attractive people to walk around, hang out, and socialize with guests fully naked (guests could be naked, too). While it wouldn't be the focus, photography would be permitted, but only if done openly and with consent of the participants (this would be something I'd look for when hiring). However, people wouldn't be made to feel dirty just for asking.

Why can't such a place exist? Would it just devolve into a sex resort? Why, then, am I so hung up on creating a fantasy that's unrealistic? And why don't I get to have nice things, just because other people would break them? Would I feel differently if I'd had different experiences in my life - like, if I felt capable of initiating intimate relationships with attractive people I meet? Why should I be punished, by my own mind, for not sleeping around? What kind of programming is that?

I wish someday somebody could come along and give me some answers to the questions that have plagued me all my life. I wish life actually had a meaning and an order that we could discern, instead of being arbitrary, and open to interpretation. I wish I didn't live in a society that felt oppressive in spite of its freedoms, made up of barely-intelligent apes who are all too easily exploited and manipulated by the corrupt overlords at the top, for the benefit of the few at the cost of the many. I wish I didn't have a condition that causes even the things I enjoy to stress me out. And I wish I didn't have such eccentric tastes, so I could more easily find people to share them with, and enjoy them without feeling guilty about it.

More than anything, I think I'm just tired of suffering for no good reason at all. If there were such a thing as mercy, I never would have existed in the first place. No, that's selfish. I know I make [a very few] people happy by being here. Is it wrong for me to resent having to suffer for the pleasure of others? I just don't understand why it's wrong for me to ask for something in return. I can't even ask for what I want in life, let alone have the means to acquire it. I've even spent years solidifying my reputation, and searching for alternatives to simply asking attractive people to let me see them naked.

Weirdly, even online, it's hard to find attractive people who want to be seen naked - real people that don't feel marketed as a commercial product to be consumed impersonally. It's like the entire world has a vendetta against beauty, because every time I catch a glimpse of it, overbearing forces are hot on its heels, ready to snuff it out. Religious conservatives condemn the sin of lust, while liberal feminists decry the objectifying 'male gaze'.

I can't seek a purpose in fighting for revolution because I don't even have a side. There's no army to join. I'm alone, and if I were to rise up, I would be squashed like a fly caught between the jaws of a vise. So I have to hide myself, like I have to hide my body, my beauty, my passion, my joy, and pretend to be something else. But why? There's no reward at the end of it all. What is it all for? What horrid thing did I do in my previous life, and why do I deserve this punishment if I can't even remember what it was?

Eroticism vs. Gross Anatomy

I'm not trying to disavow our most basic impulses, but there's so much more to erotic art than "gross anatomy". And I don't mean you have to cover up and be coy. You can show the anatomy. But there are more parts of the human body that are attractive than just the genitals. And there are ways to frame the genitals, to groom them to be more presentable.

Although it has been documented that arousal suppresses our disgust reaction to some degree (why else would anybody want to lick another person's anus?), aesthetics don't go out the window just because our sex drives are engaged. It's about more than just looking at unkempt body parts that are normally hidden from our view. There's a psychology that goes into what we find alluring; a way to stimulate our bodies and minds simultaneously, for a more intense and lingering reaction. That's what erotic art attempts to evoke. It doesn't always succeed. After all, there is a heavily subjective element involved. But isn't it worth the try?

Some people want to keep their dirty magazines separate from the paintings hanging on their wall. Isn't it the very concept of "pin-ups" to merge the two? There's a delicate balance to be achieved in creating a portrait that can stir the loins, while also possessing enough taste and class to warrant hanging above the fireplace. Some say it can't be done. But it makes for a thrilling artistic challenge.

Trans Representation in Classic Rock

Preface: This is something of a cross-post (about cross-dressing, lol) from my music/movie review blog The Screaming Axe (which I am semi-retired from writing for), that I wanted to post here because it concerns one of the pre-eminent themes I like to write about here on this blog: namely, gender identity. Since I don't know to what extent readers of this blog are aware of my other interests, and this post follows a particular format not seen here before, I feel it demands some explanation before I proceed.

Although I'm a little bit less focused on it now than I have been in the past, music has been and remains a major part of my life and personality. As a brief history, I distanced myself from contemporary music when I was growing up. Instead, I discovered my parents' classic rock. Listening to bands like Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd inspired me to learn to play the guitar, with some assistance from a musician I dated in high school. In college, I hosted my own radio show - an activity that I poured my heart and soul into. After college, a friend of mine gave me the seed of an idea that became Zharth's Music Log.

For my music log, I picked a new theme every week for a whole year, and then posted a song daily according to that theme. You can read the archives here. Since I retired the series after that first year, I have gone back to add new themes every now and then, as the muses dictate. Because it was originally a weekly series, there are always 7 songs per theme - one for each day of the week (with the occasional extra thrown in). I'm currently working on a new collection of about a dozen themes or so, as yet mostly un-published. This is one of them.

And now you should be caught up enough to know what's going on.

Gender Confusion

While hunting down songs about taboo relationships (another theme I'm working on), I stumbled across an alternate theme - songs addressing cross-dressers, transvestites, transgender and transsexual individuals. In short, themes of gender confusion and non-conformity.

Granted, British/American society in the '60s and '70s isn't the greatest place to look for sensitive portrayals of transgender identities (and their rock music is certainly no exception). So these songs might be a little problematic.

Likely controversial at the time of their release (namely, for describing what was then considered a form of sexual deviance), they tend to be controversial for a very different reason today (treating trans identities - which were not well understood at the time - as a stereotype, and often the punchline to a mean-spirited joke).

Nevertheless, it's a theme that I can relate to as a gender-nonconforming individual. And who better to address it in a way that won't feel exploitative? While I do not claim to speak for any kind of a larger community, as a lesson in what NOT to do, you might just learn a thing or two about responsible representation.

The Who - I'm A Boy [released as a single, 1966]

On the surface, this song seems to be contributing to gendered stereotypes, as well as the problematic trope of the boy who is forced by his parent(s) to live as a girl - often used inaccurately in horror movies to "explain" a serial killer's behaviors. As if making a boy wear a dress is so traumatic that it justifies murder. (On the contrary, you'd be surprised how many men have fantasies about just such a thing). Or, more likely, that a boy wanting to wear a dress is so unthinkable to the average person that it's hardly a stretch to imagine that such a "diseased" mind could also harbor homicidal mania...

By way of explanation, this song was intended to be part of a mini-rock opera about a futuristic society in which parents can choose the sex of their children. An error occurs and instead of four girls, one mother gets three girls and a boy. Yet she remains in stubborn denial, to the consternation of her fourth-born child. However, if you flip it around, and consider the song as being sung from the point of view of an AFAB trans-man expressing their masculine gender identity in the face of unsupportive parent(s), it becomes a powerful FtM anthem.

"I'm a boy, I'm a boy, but my ma won't admit it.
I'm a boy, I'm a boy, but if I say I am, I get it."

Pink Floyd - Arnold Layne [released as a single, 1967]

Notable for being Pink Floyd's very first single, this short psychedelic tune - said to be inspired by true events! - describes the activities of a panty snatcher. It is a not-very-favorable depiction of a true sexual deviant, that plays off of the negative stereotype of the "transvestic fetishist" (the APA did a massive disservice to the trans community with that diagnosis). He ends up in prison by the end of the song, while being repeatedly admonished by the song's narrator.

As such, I hesitated to include it on this list. But it's one of the few songs from this era that broaches the subject of cross-dressing (albeit briefly) more or less seriously (the fact that pickings are this slim just highlights the need for more and better representation), and the band were quite defensive of its themes when it was banned from radio play. Unfortunately, in a repressive society, sometimes the only manner in which non-conformers know how to express their feelings - and the only vocabulary the public has to describe them - is that of criminal deviance. We owe them better.

"On the wall hung a tall mirror. Distorted view -
see-through, baby blue. He dug it."

The Kinks - Lola [Lola Versus Powerman, 1970]

This is, perhaps, one of the most popular and well-known songs about a trans-woman of all time. It tells the story of a man who falls in love with a woman he meets in a club, all the while dropping hints about the woman's uncharacteristically masculine attributes. Although she is properly gendered throughout the song, the climactic revelation is that she's a "man". However, the narrator seems to accept her for who she is, when he could have easily rejected her on those grounds.

Some call it a gay anthem, but this seems to neglect the complexities of gender identity. To be fair, these issues are quite complicated, to the point that even people who are questioning their own identity experience considerable confusion. And, ultimately, while sexual orientation and gender identity are separate and distinct qualities, they do sometimes - not infrequently, in fact - overlap within the queer community. Overall, while some parts of this song could be viewed as outing a "cross-dresser" to humorous effect, I think it's surprisingly supportive for its time. As we'll see in the next song, we could do worse.

"Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls.
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world."

Led Zeppelin - Royal Orleans [Presence, 1976]

Hailing from Led Zeppelin's oft-overlooked post-prime album from 1976 - Presence - this song features Jimmy Page's "wall of guitars" sound with a funky, stop-and-start rhythm. You could be forgiven for not hearing the lyrics well enough to know it's about a one night stand with a New Orleans drag queen (allegedly based on a real encounter by one of the band members). The tone is more playful than judgmental - in a male hazing sort of way - but as The Kinks have already shown us in 1970, we can do better than that.

Now let's talk about the problematic concept of "traps". (And I apologize for the excessive use of scare quotes, but we are dealing with superficial appearances and misunderstood identities here). A "trap" is a "man" "masquerading" as a "woman" with the perceived goal of "tricking" men into sleeping with "her", culminating in the "horrifying" revelation that the "woman" he has fallen for (or crawled into bed with) is "really" another "man". In reality, this is nearly unheard of. It's just insecure straight dudes displacing their transphobia onto their victims, in an attempt to reconcile their own unbidden feelings which contradict a sexually hetero-conservative ideology.

In truth, transwomen aren't interested in tricking anybody. Not only because it's deceitful, but because doing so would put them in an extremely vulnerable position. They only want to be recognized as the gender they identify as. And it's not exactly fair or appropriate to expect them to broadcast their anatomical situation in casual conversation (not to mention the fact that doing so would, again, put them in a vulnerable position). It's okay if you're not interested in having relations (or a relationship) with a non-binary partner. It's not for everyone. And that doesn't make you transphobic. It's how you handle those feelings, and the way you treat minorities, that determines the content of your character.

Like, do you really need to write a song about your fear of waking up next to a "tranny"? Is it really such a common and distressing phenomenon among straight culture that you have to say your piece on it? When that's pretty much the only kind of song about transpersons anyone ever hears? Or is it just a disproportionate response to an irrational (and insensitive) fear? And should you maybe think twice before polluting the airwaves with this harmful misrepresentation of reality? Just a few things to think about.

"New Orleans queens sure know how to schmooze it.
Maybe for some that seems alright.
When I step out, strut down with my sugar,
she'd best not talk like Barry White."

Lou Reed - Walk on the Wild Side [Transformer, 1972]

My predominant memory of this song is listening to it on the way to high school. When my brother was old enough to drive us, he would pick a certain song, and that would be the song he'd play in the car every morning. For a while it was Crossroads by Cream. Then it was Rick Wakeman's Excerpts From The Six Wives of Henry VIII (from the Yessongs live album). I never quite figured out why he picked this one, except that it sounds ultra cool - check out that mellow bass line. And for a teenager, listening to a song about the lives of sex workers feels thrilling and rebellious. I don't think he was hinting at something he didn't tell us, but who knows, right?

Anyway, leave it to Lou Reed (coming off of the anti-success of avant-garde experimental band The Velvet Underground) not only to write a song about sex workers, but one that seems to humanize them. Each verse of the song describes a different person; the first one is about Holly, a hitch-hiker who plucks her eyebrows and shaves her legs to become a "she". And other than the lyrical reveal, she's given proper pronouns for a change! You could criticize this song for exploiting the shock value (and titillating nature) of sex work, but I think it's a pretty non-judgmental portrayal. And it avoids being completely explicit like The Rolling Stones' straight-faced yet tongue-in-cheek (among other things) Cocksucker Blues.

Now, the fact that this is one of the very few representations of transgender identities in the music of this era, and that it's in a highly sexualized context, is concerning. But I think it's fairly reflective of the social climate, and I don't fault it for that. Moving forward, however, I think it's important to emphasize that cross-dressing and other activities related to the transgender experience are not strictly motivated by sexual desire (the stereotype of the "transvestic fetishist", who only dresses up as a woman to satisfy a sexual fantasy) - while also acknowledging that the legitimate presence of sexual feelings doesn't discount the rest of a transgender person's experiences.

Moreover, while it's laudable that there are people out there who are open-minded about the prospect of "hooking up" with a trans-person, in some cases this can cross over the line into objectifying the trans-person's nonconventional identity. It's okay, too, if gender non-conformity is your fetish. You just have to remember always to treat other people with respect and dignity, and as fully-fledged human beings - not simply the fetish object you desire.

"Holly came from Miami, FLA.
Hitch-hiked her way across the USA.
Plucked her eyebrows on the way.
Shaved her legs and then he was a she."

Aerosmith - Dude (Looks Like A Lady) [Permanent Vacation, 1987]

Having catapaulted its way into public consciousness via effective placement in the very movie it inspired - Mrs. Doubtfire, in which Robin Williams famously cross-dresses as a menopausal housekeeper - this, along with The Kinks' Lola, is probably one of the most well-known songs about the phenomenon of "men" dressing like women. Yet, despite its energetic rhythm and infectious chorus (it's a banger), I find it embarrassing to listen to in front of other people.

Why? At the risk of sounding humorless, perhaps it's because it doesn't take the subject very seriously, and I don't appreciate being treated as a joke. In the best case scenario, it's an arguably misogynistic dig against the feminized appearance of hair metal/glam rockers from the '80s (albeit coming from a band guilty of that very thing). For committed transwomen (who would likely recoil at being called a "dude", and would probably be offended by having their identity reduced to "cross-dressing", as opposed to simply dressing in accordance with the gender they identify as), the title alone could evoke traumatic memories of being "clocked", and the harassment or sometimes even violence that usually follows such encounters.

I think it comes down to proportional representation. It's not a terribly cruel or judgmental song (as a counterpoint, consider how A Boy Named Sue, written by Shel Silverstein and famously sung by Johnny Cash, champions a life of testosterone-fueled violence to compensate for something so superficial as a boy being given a girl's name). But when minority representation is so rare, every example carries disproportionate weight, and a not insignificant responsibility to represent that minority fairly, despite being unlikely to accurately portray the individual circumstances of any given member. So when I hear this song, a part of me cringes and thinks, "is this what people think of when they encounter a transperson? Is this how they see me?"

Of course, it can be used as an opportunity to raise the issue and answer people's questions - imperfect representation is better than no representation at all. But poor representation can do more harm than good, and the effects of limited representation emphasizes just how important it is to have more and varied portrayals. Also, it'd be cool to hear a song that humanizes the transgender experience, written and performed by a transperson, and not just another cis-person sharing a few guilty chuckles with a mostly cis-audience, making fun of something they don't really understand. The fact that some of these artists are almost certainly bisexual or trans-curious themselves (otherwise these songs probably would be more judgmental), and that this is the only manner in which they can address those feelings and experiences in a way that is at least remotely socially acceptable, makes it even sadder.

"Love put me wise to her love in disguise.
She had the body of a Venus; Lord, imagine my surprise."

The Runaways - I Wanna Be Where The Boys Are [Live in Japan, 1977]

We're gonna end with something a little bit more positive (at least in my interpretation). The Runaways were a remarkable band, not just because they were the stepping stone that launched Joan Jett's musical career, but because they were a band of teenage girls who got out there and rocked every bit as hard as grown men were doing. And nothing encapsulates that philosophy better than this song, from their Live in Japan concert album.

Now, I don't know much about Joan Jett's personal life, and I don't know how she identifies officially, in terms of either her sexual orientation or gender identity, but I think it's safe to say that she's at least a little bit queer. And it bears stating that you don't have to be transgender to get something out of tearing down the gender binary. Whether you're just a tomboy, or if it goes deeper than that, this song is an anthem for anyone who's ever felt the injustice of being left out or cornered by gendered stereotypes. And though it runs in the wrong direction for me personally, few statements could sum up my lot in life as succinctly as, "I wanna be where the girls are."

"I wanna be where the boys are.
I wanna fight how the boys fight.
I wanna love how the boys love."

Honorable Mention:
David Bowie - Rebel Rebel [Diamond Dogs, 1974]

As a gender non-conformer, you might think I'd be more interested in glam rock, but that's not necessarily the case. (I developed my taste in music before I discovered my gender identity). Although there is definitely a lot of overlap between cross-dressing and androgyny, I view the two as distinct phenomena, even if the line between them is often blurry. I just think there's a difference between adopting the cues of the opposite sex you were born as, and just throwing out all the rules completely and making up something new. To put it another way, if I'm androgynous, it's because I'm starting from one sex and aiming for the other, not because I hold androgyny as my goal.

Not that I don't think that's awesome, too - I absolutely support the freedom of individuals to dress however the fuck they want (or even not at all). And no matter where in the trans spectrum you lie, there's a degree to which you are rebelling against societal norms. But if I don't view David Bowie in general, and this song in particular, as a role model for my own personal self-affirmation, it's probably because my role models tend to be ultra-feminine women (whether cis or trans). But it was worth mentioning, especially considering the questionable "advocacy" offered by some of the songs on this list.

"You've got your mother in a whirl.
She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl."

Liberation

Everybody has their own battle to fight in this life. I just want to be allowed to admire people's bodies in a way that is respectful but not repressed, without guilt and shame and judgment. Because people associate it with sexual conquest, which they find threatening or dehumanizing; when all I really want is to celebrate the good vibrations we're programmed to experience from something so simple as recognition of the shape of the human form. Surely, the ability to do so is a gift from God? There's enough suffering in life, and precious little joy. Why do we have to take this source of potential pleasure and twist it into something painful? That is the only true perversion.

Thirsty Eyes

(I wrote this while lying in bed, trying unsuccessfully to get to sleep).

The thing with nudity is, people think "ew, naked bodies are gross." And yeah - I'm sorry, but... a lot of naked bodies are gross. As a nudist, you learn to get over it. That's worth consideration on its own, but it's beside the point I want to make right now. Some bodies aren't gross. In fact, they're magnificent! Yeah, there's a subjective element involved. But there's a certain level of objectivity, too. Consider the advertising industry. A certain model may or may not be to your particular tastes, but a professional artist caters to a generalized sense of aesthetics. Repulsion isn't the only alternative to desire.

So, my perspective is this - these objectively attractive bodies? I want to see more of them. That's it. It's so simple. I want to be surrounded by them on a daily basis. Whether it's people in the flesh (the more effective approach), or photographic representations (the far more practical scenario) - either way. I worship at the altar of aesthetic beauty and tasteful eroticism. And the human body - not just any body, but particular bodies, especially those that have been trained for exhibition - that is the most appealing subject to my eye. I'll take as much of it as I can get. And if there's not enough naked beauty in my life to satisfy me, I'll just make my own.