Thursday, October 13, 2011

My Burlesque is Feminist, So Sit The Fuck Down and Enjoy It Already

"I have a suspicion — and hear me out, because this is a rough one — that the definition of ‘crazy’ in show business is a woman who keeps talking even after no one wants to fuck her anymore.” -Tina Fey

Oh Hi!!!!!!!! Aries Full Moon time!!! Means CP is rarrrrring to go. Seriously I cannot wait for my show tomorrow at Keefer; I'm full of fire and sass and passion and sizzla-max electricity and I'm putting some hell spittin' heat into a new track by Self Evident. RRRRROARRRR. Life is fucking rad right now and it's only getting better. Occupy Vancouver is on Saturday and my grrlz and I are gonna go RAGE it. HARD. So into it... HYPED.

I'm also SUPER pumped to go see MissRepresentation at Vancouver International Film Festival on Friday, which deals primarily with how more bitches need to be helping run media and politics and shit. That way we can stop the greedy-ass capitalist agenda'd 1% assholes from tricking us into spending all our time, money and energy bleaching our assholes instead of making the world a better place.

Oh yes, you heard me. The beauty industry literally has NOTHING LEFT to criticize except our assholes. Our assholes! That's how fucking ridiculous it's gotten. Because now apparently, every woman's asshole is a SHAMEFUL, DIRTY HOLE - unless you spend hundreds of dollars putting peroxide and harmful chemicals on it so that it is prettier and whiter (because whiter = not DIRTY and GROSS), so that "men" will want to fuck our assholes more. BECAUSE HAVING A LIGHT PINK, FUCKABLE ASSHOLE IS REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT EVERYBODY. $75-a-treatment important! (Or do it yourself at home for only $39.95!)

Of course upon hearing this I immediately called fellow Sweet Soul grrl Tristan Risk to hurry over and bleach my asshole. I have a date this weekend dammit!!! I couldn't possibly want anyone to see my DIRTY, UNBLEACHED ASSHOLE. Oh my god, I would like, totally die. (Thankfully friend & photog David Denofreo was there to capture it... you can click to enlarge and get Tristan's technique here).



Hey, you know who I think is a dirty, unbleached asshole? Ummm... how about the fucker who came up with this fucking bullshit?? This is so preposterous that even fucking COSMO is warning their readers against it, and you know it's REALLY bad when THAT happens.

Now of course this is yet another example of a porn-star fad turning mainstream and it deeply, deeply concerns me. Because it sounds absurd but the horrible truth is that it really, really does feel like that being fuckable is the most important quality a woman can possess, over intelligence, creativity, kindness... any other characteristic or accomplishment. Throughout history we've been taught this, both women and men. It's fucking infuriating and unfair and awful but hey, it sells anal bleach! Plus it distracts us from trying to speak up or try to do the things that the men are busy doing like running the country, and it keeps us feeling anxious and shitty and broke and making tanning appointments. As long as we're alll spending our time and money trying to look like pornstars (or a thinly disguised pornstar with tattoos and glasses or whatever), we'll have some semblance of value, self-worth and clout. So I guess we should all keep doing that right?

Oh.. except guess what? While I do enjoy feeling like I'm sexually attractive --- at least to some people, and perferably to one that I too find sexually attractive ---  I DON'T WANT TO SPEND ALL MY TIME OBSESSING OVER THAT, because it's exhausting and honestly, kind of set up to be an unattainable trap. So where does that leave me? Hmm. Sheeeeeeeeeeit.

Now we're obviously touching on the political side of why I do what I do right on the head here so I'm gonna get into it a little. Honestly, I do understand why people are sometimes confused as to how I can be a topless rapping performer who spends thousands every year on costumes and make-up and yet still be a hard-core feminist against asshole bleaching. It actually makes more sense than you might think. At the end of the day it all comes down to calling the shots about where and how I decide to be sexual, instead of having other people decide that for me.

First up, I have never enjoyed having my "fuckability" in ANY WAY be a factor when it comes to people interacting with me other than in a way that involves me possibly also wanting to have sex with them. Whether I'm being interviewed for a job, preparing a seminar for a company, auditioning for a voice-over gig, walking past a construction site, or choosing produce in the grocery store, I am usually not putting myself out there to be measured and evaluated for my fuckability. AND YET, it seems that there are still men in the world who don't really understand that my main purpose in life is not to be sexually appealing to them. This frustrates me to no end. This is why I love my punk rock grrlz, my riot grrlz and my queer friends who aesthetically move away from what is largely considered standard quo as far as "hetero-fuckibility".  YES!! I enjoy them a lot. At the same time, I also enjoy fucking men (as well as women), and my general aesthetic and demeanor is super duper femme (which is still up for debate in terms of whether that's a socialization thing, a past life thing, or just a subjective preference thing).

Enter burlesque. Now, burlesque opens doors for me because as a hyper femme who is a drag-lover by nature (I refer to drag by the general definition as a term for "dressed as a girl"), the idea of disregarding what MEN might think is sexy and instead deciding what I think is sexy is extremely appealing, especially in  the exaggerated level of hyper-sexual lingerie. It's an exercise is reclamation.  What's hilarious is that most of all drag comes from different changing eras of what was once found attractive but then ws pushed aside to make room for the next, thus proving that fashion, allure and style are all fluid and not to be taken too seriously. I can twist all forced and learned beauty standards from all the eras to make them MINE; pull and push and pick and choose and stretch them to fit my own subjective ideals, tastes, tendencies, body. My own personal version of fabulous, tongue in cheek. Then I add my other qualities in layers like words, wit, passion, politics, humour, talents... MY way. Then I take them ALL to the stage and I give my audience PERMISSION to look at me, watch me, enjoy me, hear me. I am not in the checkout at the grocery store. I am not walking down the street. On stage, as in the bedroom with a lover, I am freeing myself. I am giving you the option to see me as a sexual being when and where I choose to. I am in my sexual power. I am representing myself as a multi-layered, dynamic, real woman. It's basically me re-writing the script of my every day reality.

Now as an entertainer, I always want the audience to be entertained, but also I want (hopefully) for this to help build broader scopes of beauty and power; to bring something to them that feels three dimensional and not pure powerless inane sextoy bullshit. New brushstrokes so that in turn people are inspired to run with their own flavour. An expansion for use in the daily struggle. The idea is to hopefully free everyone a little from trying to fit the pornstar fuckability mold (which is EXHAUSTING, I HATE IT) while still admitting that we all want to feel fuckable. Cuz I love to fuck. I do. And straight-up rejecting all beauty aids or pretending that I don't want to be desired is unrealistic, unsustainable and kind of dishonest.

SO that's where my liberation comes from. That's why it feels like progress to me. Ummmkayyyyyy???

Now if we can just get our unbleached assholes onto a bigger platform things might start getting interesting. Heh heh heh ;)

Hold tight Sasspumps. See you at the Art Gallery Saturday.

Huge love & panther growlzzz.

xoxo
CP

Sunday, October 2, 2011

THANKSGIVINGS

I've been spending a lot of time alone lately... doing chores, reading, walking. Exercising. Singing. Getting things right in my head. Practicing my performances. (Still always floors me how practicing make you better at things - without fail! So simple. Amazing). As my mother once so accurately observed, for someone oft considered an extrovert, I'm quite introspective. She always made us do that thing around the table at Thanksgiving dinner; you know, where everyone has to take turns saying what they are thankful for. I still remember the little turkey I made in pre-school with a giant pine-cone I picked up off the ground up in Smithers; little construction paper feathers sticking up out of the layers. It was put out on the table every year well into my teens. What a great little kid craft idea. I wonder if she still has it.


I have a billion things on the list right now but a lot of them are minor and random, like for example I'm pumped Esthero is finally working on a new album (called Everything is Expensive, which I fucking love) and I'm really into Coconut Bliss vegan hazelnut fudge ice cream (trust me on this, it is AMAZING. Get some. Go). What can I say... I tend to derive the greatest pleasure in the details. In the end though these are the five biggies.

First and foremost, I am thankful that my sister is alive. I am tremendously proud of her for continuing to fight and heal in the face of a vicious and merciless addiction. I am so, SO grateful that she is here today. She is a survivor and a warrior and a fighter and she inspires the shit out of me. I think about her every day.

My sisters, my sasspots, my gentlemen, my mentors, my heros, my loves, my mirrors, my inspiration, my heart... my family. You make me the trillest, the richest. Thank you.

I am increasingly grateful to understand that there are beautiful and unseen subtleties and complexities in all living things, and in people who choose to represent themselves to me in any form. In turn I understand that my projected stage persona does not represent the entirety of who I am and I'm very grateful to have not been seduced into losing myself into any ultimately self-limiting illusions, despite of my vivid imagination and considerable ego. I am so grateful that that my boots - and heels - hit the ground. I really wanna keep 'em there.


I am insanely, unfathomably grateful for the opportunity to live the way I want to without apology. That I am not necessarily expected to marry a man, bear a child, sleep with my boss, wear conservative clothing or, horror of horrors, hold my tongue. Seriously. Who would I be? I don't even know if that person could exist. Honestly. I know this is not to be taken for granted EVER in our world, and that many have fought for this for me. I am grateful to be a sexually overt performer and a stripper without being shunned, shamed, harassed or written off as stupid, sinful and desperate by the majority of the population. Just two generations ago, I know it was a very different story. I am grateful that I am able to live as I choose.


I am very, very thankful for my voice, and for all the gifts with which I was blessed as a human. I am grateful that these gifts were fostered by my mother, and that they were given fire and purpose by my experiences with my father. I am grateful that I have the courage to do what I feel I am meant to do. To me this is the only real way to show gratitude to the universe for what I have been given, and so I will continue to do share these gifts to the best of my ability. Forever.

Thank you.
<3

xoox
CP