AUTOHEROISM
I am intrigued by the auto heroism that “survivors” of violence employ through the use of alter egos/ dynamic selves/ characters.
From 2011-2014, I would travel to Morocco, stand in front of a court room of people who cared nothing for me, and state again and again the details of my experience of violence. I would dress in a way that was meant to convey no emotion – well tailored dresses with sky-high heels, and stick straight hair that – per the American journalist who attended my final hearing – resembled a soulless wig. The same journalist said, “You look prepared for battle.” Upon entering the court room, my head would detach from my body. As a decapitated organism, I gave a monotone testimony for the third, fifth, eighth time.
Upon returning to New York, I would often attend live performance shows. And I began to see some parallels – It was simply more “obvious” among performers. And, after some time, I came to learn that many within the live performance community had experienced similar types of violence. And I suppose this isn’t surprising, again, given the ubiquitous experience of this violence. But what I also noticed is that – while their performances and alter egos were not born entirely as a response to this experience- when in character, they were bold, brave, sexually empowered, in control of their bodies and their surroundings.
While the individual who experiences this violence will never be the same again, they should not be forever brandished “VICTIM” or “SURVIVOR” or worse, “DAMAGED GOODS.” They are constantly growing and changing, and renegotiating their mental, emotional, and physical relationship to the society around them. And sometimes, when one side of the self feels fear, the other sides step in to project the inner bravery, the lack of shame, the fully realized wo/hu/man.
In viewing photo after photo of those who have experience violence, the images are typically sad, meant to invoke sympathy or to appeal to donors. As a “survivor” (for lack of a better term at the moment), this signals to me that I will be “sad,” “pitiful,” “just another statistic.” I wish I could have seen photos of wo/hu/men in heroic stances. I certainly relate better to that. Watching these performers act as their own heroes as their alter egos, I felt emboldened myself.
Done in collaboration with photographer, David L. Byrd.
From 2011-2014, I would travel to Morocco, stand in front of a court room of people who cared nothing for me, and state again and again the details of my experience of violence. I would dress in a way that was meant to convey no emotion – well tailored dresses with sky-high heels, and stick straight hair that – per the American journalist who attended my final hearing – resembled a soulless wig. The same journalist said, “You look prepared for battle.” Upon entering the court room, my head would detach from my body. As a decapitated organism, I gave a monotone testimony for the third, fifth, eighth time.
Upon returning to New York, I would often attend live performance shows. And I began to see some parallels – It was simply more “obvious” among performers. And, after some time, I came to learn that many within the live performance community had experienced similar types of violence. And I suppose this isn’t surprising, again, given the ubiquitous experience of this violence. But what I also noticed is that – while their performances and alter egos were not born entirely as a response to this experience- when in character, they were bold, brave, sexually empowered, in control of their bodies and their surroundings.
While the individual who experiences this violence will never be the same again, they should not be forever brandished “VICTIM” or “SURVIVOR” or worse, “DAMAGED GOODS.” They are constantly growing and changing, and renegotiating their mental, emotional, and physical relationship to the society around them. And sometimes, when one side of the self feels fear, the other sides step in to project the inner bravery, the lack of shame, the fully realized wo/hu/man.
In viewing photo after photo of those who have experience violence, the images are typically sad, meant to invoke sympathy or to appeal to donors. As a “survivor” (for lack of a better term at the moment), this signals to me that I will be “sad,” “pitiful,” “just another statistic.” I wish I could have seen photos of wo/hu/men in heroic stances. I certainly relate better to that. Watching these performers act as their own heroes as their alter egos, I felt emboldened myself.
Done in collaboration with photographer, David L. Byrd.