sorry guys can’t hang out right now I’m working on my aesthetic
"Why do we say sex workers need us, say, any more than waitresses or underpaid teachers need us; why don’t we police and strip rights to privacy and agency from the capitalist pigs who sit on top of the food chains of Walmart, Target, even high-end retailers like Bloomingdales, in order to “protect the women” who work there? Why do we force sex workers to confirm first that they enjoy and find empowerment in their work before trusting their input on their own industry when we don’t ever ask train conductors or UPS delivery people if they find their jobs empowering before fighting for their rights to unionize, collectively bargain, advertise to and screen clients?"
"i am mine.
before i am ever anyone else’s."
"I was not made
I was made
"I want to learn more. I want to get better."
Bruce Weber via Portrait of a Community: Inside Barneys’ Groundbreaking Campaign Featuring 17 Trans* Models (Autostraddle)
"In the film, there is a clip from a movie about a boy with green hair. Bruce explained that when he was growing up he always felt like that boy: out of place at school, he was always in the art room, drawing or taking photos. He felt like he didn’t belong, but after moving to New York he had found his home amongst people that accepted him. The shoot felt like that. It felt like a lot of us wandered life with green hair. Feeling like we were targets for our differences. On set we were accepted. All of the press that I’ve seen and done has felt like that. It feels like, in at least some respect, all of us with green hair are finally being accepted amongst the brunettes and blondes."
Ryley Pogensky in Portrait of a Community: Inside Barneys’ Groundbreaking Campaign Featuring 17 Trans* Models (Autostraddle)
"Nothing is missing. It’s all there. The affectless gaze. The diffracted grace… The bored languor, the wasted pallor… The chic freakiness, the basically passive astonishment, the enthralling secret knowledge… The chintzy joy, the revelatory tropisms, the chalky, puckish mask, the slightly Slavic look… The childlike, gum-chewing naiveté, the glamour rooted in despair, the self-admiring carelessness, the perfected otherness, the wispiness, the shadowy, voyeuristic, vaguely sinister aura, the pale, the soft-spoken magical presence, the skin and bones… The albino-chalk skin. Parchmentlike. Reptilian. Almost blue… The knobby knees. The roadmap of scars. The long bony arms, so white they look bleached. The arresting hands. The pinhead eyes. The banana ears… The graying lips. The shaggy silver-white hair, soft and metallic. The cords of my neck standing out around my big Adam’s apple. It’s all there, B. Nothing is missing. I’m everything my scrapbook says I am."
andy warhol describing the thoughts running through his mind when he looks in the mirror in the philosophy of andy warhol, AKA me every morning.