I want to write something about an experience I had two fridays ago.
I’ve decided to take some art classes, to get out more and meet new people, and one of my classes is about fantasy and comic-book figures. So far I’ve been enjoying the class, even though I find it a bit uncomfortable. I’m the only female in the class, and non-spanish speaker, and just generally anxious and awkward. In addition to these things that already aren’t making me feel super great, I am not conventionally attractive and most definitely do not have a “conventionally attractive” body-type. My professor made several comments about how he was going to teach us how to draw a “certain” type of woman. He then further explained that he couldn’t say sexy or pretty or fuckable because then he’d get in trouble, but that we all knew what he meant. He then pointed to another student to thank him for the suggestion of “traditional woman”. So, obviously i texted my friends and partner “I’m in hell” because it was my own personal brand of torture. And then it got even better.
We were working on drawing characters in exaggerated angles to practice perspective, and my professor calls me out in front of the class because on the first day of class i expressed that i mainly draw women, and then he proceeded for the next 2 hours of class to have me “correct” the women i drew not due to incorrect perspective but because of the body types I kept drawing. My character design was a woman with droopy breasts and a belly, a slight hanging stomach, and a thicker waist. At one point he actually erased the belly line on my character and said something along the lines of “women shouldn’t have that shape because it isn’t feminine”. And, being the way i am, i didn’t defend myself, i just let my professor erase the belly on my drawing.
Even though it’s been over a week I still am getting worked up writing about this experience, because it both reminded me of a reality I’ve been somewhat shielded from as well as help me realize something i hadn’t completely understood before.
I’m very fortunate to be surrounded by people in my life that are body positive, be it they aren’t themselves conventionally attractive or are just decent human beings. WWU also tends to have a lot of opportunities to explore body positivity and acceptance, so I’ve been in a nice cosy little bubble where I can be fat and won’t be immediately shamed for it. WWU also tends to be a place where you can speak out against misogyny with some level of confidence. I’ve worked very hard to be simply okay with my body, and it’s something I struggle with every fucking day. One of the first steps I took to accepting myself was to re-evaluate my art. In high school, i was really interested in character design potentially for animation, so it’s what most of my artistic and creative efforts focused on. All of my characters were white, tall, slender women. Perky, perfect breasts, big blue eyes and light colored hair. I couldn’t even look at my own drawings without feeling ashamed, and i was significantly smaller in high school. Once i decided to make the effort to draw women who looked like myself, or my cousins, or my friends, my perception of beauty changed significantly. I still struggle, I have a hard time drawing stretch marks because i can’t look at my own without wanting to rip off my skin. But generally, I’ve become comfortable with the type of women i illustrate. Curvy women, fat women. Women with small lopsided breasts and big thighs. Women with large breasts and bellies. It feels right and i hadn’t really felt i was in the wrong for drawing women the way i do until i was in this class. I realized how close i was to forgetting the women i draw, even just being cute cartoons, are still deemed wrong. Even my fucking sketch in my journal can’t escape criticism of her belly. Criticism from an average-built man, who found it necessary to erase something so fucking putrid as a small tummy on a sketch of a woman he couldn’t imagine fucking.
I’ve pushed off writing about this until now because I get very angry, still, at the thought of what happened. All i could think of was how if I was in Washington i would have reported what happened to *someone* because it was completely inappropriate. But I’m not in Washington, I’m in a country with a culture that has machismo shoved into every crevice of society. It’s something I’ve noticed especially in the visual art culture here, the majority of street artists are male, most famous artists that have been immortalized in the numerous museums are male, all the art stores i go to are run by men, more artisan vendors are male, streetwear clothing brands are marketed towards men and usually only have men’s clothing/sizing available, the majority of my classmates and both of my art professors are male. With my interest in tattoos specifically, I’ve been keenly aware of how male-dominated the art world and counterculture is here, but it has been something I could separate myself from because I generally have been separated from it by being a US citizen, a non-spanish speaker, etc. As a student in an art class here, I am directly inserting myself into a part of the art culture and now have a more intimate point of view.
And frankly, it sucks ass. I didn’t realize how much i had taken for granted in the US’s art culture as a student, i have a lot more motility, though the US visual culture has a bunch of shit I’d fx if i could, including misogyny that presents itself a lot more subtly and also racism that is a lot less subtle.
I am unsure of what else to say about this experience. It is still unnerving to me that i feel as a queer woman of color I don’t have a real place within the art culture in the US, and here I don’t primarily because I am a woman. I was excited to try and become more present in the art culture here, even in a small way, but really i just got a rude-ass reality check, and a drawing i don't want to look at.
This really has just left me with a lot to think about and a lot of unchecked raged tbh.
--Claudia