Ian (he/they) Sacramento Delta 2020
I am not unfamiliar with being photographed at all. I’ve been a go-go dancer, and performed
and studied belly dance as well as being the subject of multiple photoshoots in past, but always
with a performance or theme in mind. Being photographed without pretense, makeup,
costume, or showiness was a surprising challenge that provoked a great deal of thought along
the way.
I have a complicated relationship with myself and my body. Appearances can be deceiving; the
one I occupy now is somewhat different from the one I started life with. I was born with a
severe cleft palate and harelip that later resulted in serious underbite and dental wear issues.
These required several surgeries throughout my childhood and adulthood to correct. In
addition, I’ve fought to reshape myself from a less healthy physique and lifestyle, including
multiple bouts with eating disorders. At this point, I may have a “normal” face and body that
others find pleasing, but the complex, long-term trauma of the experiences along the way mean
that I still experience dysmorphia at the sight of my own body or face at times.
I also don’t expressly identify with one gender, though I don’t necessarily make it a point to
perform as such. Growing up in a military, authoritarian, religious household as a child means
also having other baggage about the body, sexuality, and self-expression. From my earliest
recollections, though, I’ve never felt entirely comfortable with being described as a “man”
simply because I’m assigned male. Traditional masculine concepts have never been of strong
appeal to me, and over time, I’ve ultimately found more of who I am outside my upbringing. I’ve
been equally comfortable in drag or costume as I have with “normal” clothing. Overall, I tend to
self-identify as “genderless entity occupying male body” and aside from the attendant historic
social issues, would hopefully be just as comfortable if I were in a female-assigned form.
Having both been reductively “valued”; by others for my physical being and their attraction
toward it or its usefulness to them, as well as having been both sexually harassed and assaulted
in my past, I can say my privileges have not guaranteed me immunity from misfortune. Over
time, I’ve learned the male body can be commodified, controlled, and influenced by society,
capitalism, and more, just like any other sex or gender. Despite my status as a queer person, I’m
still aware of the privileges I experience just because I’m wearing this body, and of the lack that
others may experience by comparison.