Paper Doll Girl: A New Exciting Fashion/Culture Website!

Yo kiddies! I wanted to let you know that I am contributing to a wicked new online magazine, Paper Doll Girl.

Check out my first article on fantasies and fetishes in queer culture, found under the section of "Sex Appeal."

Take a cruise around the site, there is some wicked photography and talented writers.

Enjoy!!!

Ever Wonder? Beauty, Sex and Desire in Female Art

Subject art has always been used to convey sex and sexuality. Regardless of whether we see the art of the Ancients of a vast number of cultures and civilizations or we look at the computer and TV screens today, image allows us to get our behavioral instinct of reacting to sexuality and sex out.

Aesthetically each culture and civilization past and present will form an appetite of what they find appealing. Take the subject of a woman in art. Typically in ancient art women were seen as more appealing based of robustness and form in physicality. For example the idea of wide birthing hips on a female figure was seen as widely desirable by many cultural traditions. Procreative function seems to play an important part in the representation of ancient women.

Lending to this idea are such markers as subtle yet voluptuous breasts and as mentioned, wide hips. For the antique woman clothing and accessories were reflective of class, marital status, regional decent or at least some sense of cultural origin, and also her sexual frankness. Mainly public displays of female sexuality were not seen as admirable or and in appropriate regardless of age or being wed.

African Woman from the Djenne culture, Mali, 12th-14th century A.D.

On the other end of the representational spectrum of women in art are the temptresses, the geisha, the courtesan, the mistress and simply the woman other than your wife. Art is not only about reality it is about fantasy and that is what these women were in both real life and as subjects of art. They provided escapism from everyday struggles, the constraints that sex, sexuality and religion put on openly expressing sexual appetite.


A modern day geisha in Kyoto, Japan. Relatively geisha are modern in their emergence, dating back to the early 1700’s. But “geisha-type” women have existed since the earliest history of Japan to entertain men.

A contemporary woman today in art splits the idea of the virgin with penetration of the whore. Enter one mainstream hard-on. A woman of sexual confidence is more comfortably thought of as sexy in the Western world. Obviously the forms of artwork have always varied drastically from steelwork to sculpted stone, but we all cultures are influenced by their ideas of what is desirable and non-desirable.

It seems the places where new media has taken shape into lives there is more a shift on what the perception of beauty is and Western culture has defiantly impacted wide ideology on what a sexy woman looks like. Still today I don’t think a woman living in a remote village in India they would draw a skinny white woman as her image of female beauty. Phew.

Sex sells not even if it is being sold and women can choose to be sold or sell themselves, both now and then. Beauty, sex and desire all interplay with themselves in art and the definition of what is beautiful, what is sexy and what is desirable is molded by what we think these things are at a specific era in time.

Life After The L Word

Yes...it is over...as it should be! The L Word Series and Finale is reviewed by yours truly! Let me know your thoughts on the show, the finale and who you think killed Jenny Fucking Schecter!

Scar Tissue

She didn’t realize that she was one bad decision away from loosing a piece of herself, a woman who resembled her in texture and heart. She didn’t realize how much she had grown fond of her laughter until she couldn’t hear it anymore. She didn’t know that the first time she had slept with her tight by her side was also the last (for if she did she would have stared at her a bit longer, undisturbed by anything except the morning light). She didn’t know that it was more important that she put her fears of being judged aside and just tell her the truth, because in the end the truth was and is more important than her fear. She didn’t know that she wouldn’t have the chance to tell her that she soothed her and that she couldn’t wait to get to know more about each part of her past, present and future. She didn’t know that she could be such a fool but in that moment she was….and now she will have to pay. She could have said stop but she didn’t. Miserable and defeated but responsible for the outcome of her own irreversible fate, she tries to understand it as a lesson learned and a reminder of how she let her humanity slip from her human hands in that moment. She hates herself for it not as to victimize herself, but because she disappointed herself. Only silence now. Cold, bitter, silence.

The Well of Lonely Hopes

She gets caught up with always trying to keep it all together. Caught up in making sure that when she rises out of bed in the morning she is thankful she has food to eat, a bed to rest in, a friend to hold her hand. Sometimes she realizes that she forgets that her abnormally large heart allows for echoing spaces to be occupied by people of all ages, colours and ambitions. They need her but she also needs them more than she may lead on. The consequence of loving with the hope of growing like an adolescent, she lets these beautiful people take a piece of her heart away with them with every smile they give her, every word they listen to her speak, with every thank you. Life is sweet and bitter to her all at once. She continues to risk loving like a teenage fool that has the hopes of learning to be free from expectations while expecting all in the same sentiment. She wonders if someone will come along and see that the kindness that she shows is more like a fondness, a deep feeling that stirs her from the hairs on her head to the tips of her feet and makes her heart fill with joy and her eyes with tears. She still does not know how to love without loving with all her heart. She still does not know how to care without allowing it to grow like a baby in the womb and she loves unselfishly with an unbreakable desire to care. She still knows that the reason she lives is to seek someone that will see that her strength is the reason that she is capable of loving without fear but she hurts everyday just the same. She hopes, she dreams, she breaks over and over again but she does not fall apart, she falls into the well of water and her measure of hope rises that she will be free to be received into the arms of unconditional love.

I Am Not THAT Gay.....

I am not that gay because when I walk in a room I don’t (always) declare “hey!” with snaps in my fingers and say “Shashay, you stay. Chante, away!”

I am not that gay because I do not expect to receive redemption for my sins by attending Woodys, Tangos, Buddies or any other Church St. establishments.

I am not that gay because I still believe that clothes should show fashion and style, not tightly squeeze your genitals to painfully display the swollen unit in your pantaloons.

I am not that gay because Twinkie Winkies outrage me! Go to school, stop walking like you think you is Naomi Campbell, or I will whip a blackberry at your magga-ass!

I am not that gay because I am not under the illusion that if I attend one more Madonnarama at Fly Nightclub, I will be discovered and scouted to replace Donna or Nikki as one of Madge’s back-up singers on her next world your. Can I get a “Holiday,” ladies!

I am not that gay, for if I was I would live within view of a Pride flag and this would represent my personal piece of mind.

I am not that gay because I will show a femme how to fuck and a butch how to shut the fuck up!

I am not that gay because I refer to friends of fags as “fruit flies,” not “fag hags.” Hell I know gay men keep them around because they want to be them!

I am not that gay, for I think the idea of dykes and fags being friends is obscene. Plus, what person in the right mind would let lesbians have social space anyways?!!!

I am not that gay because I don’t dream of meeting the love of my life at Slacks.

I am not that gay because if I was…I would kill myself!

I am not that gay because I have not yet attended a fetish fair or been consumed by a masquerade of erotic orgies! Swallow, swallow, pass!

I am not that gay because I like to not be an angry lesbian, but rather an enlightened individual that likes to get mad!

I am not that gay…because I don’t write or do poly-relationship cover shots for Xtra….gulp.

I am not that gay because I have not had over one-thousand sexual partners.

I am not that gay because I don’t own a tool belt, have a VIP card to Home Depot (like a good Home Depot Dyke), or own overalls covered in paint and lady juice.