The arsehole of the porn star

From a conversation I had yesterday, whilst I was knee-deep in panic about my love-lorn insecurities …I realised something about my detective character, or rather my desire to don the guise of man. It was something I used to make me feel safe when I was a child. If I was a man, I would no longer garner the same treatment my mother received from my father, although I liked to swing back and forth, in order to play the princess to the suburban fairytale. I think I also used it as a way to try to understand my father….I would look at the women with that same look he had in his eyes, penetrating…..I still seem to play out the roles throughout my life, mother, father, daughter. They interslice; female, male, female. I feel like Alice in drag scrambling fretfully through her wonderland of adult longing and male fantasy. The arsehole of the porn star, the rabbit warren of my imagination.
 
Image credit: [Prefix poly-], 2011, Lo Liddell (collage)

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