Explicit Art

What a strange relationship we have with our boobies!
We judge them so harshly–they’re too big, too small, too saggy, the nipples are too big, the nipples are too small, the nipples are too dark, they’re different sizes, they have stretch marks, they used to be this, they used to be that.
The goal of this workshop is to realize how beautiful they are in all their different variations and to appreciate that our boobies are as diverse as we are. We are shamed about our boobies, our vaginas, our bodies, our periods, our skin, our hair–and while much of that stems from external influence (aka patriarchy/white supremacy/capitalism), we as women have unfortunately internalized it a great deal. I hope my work and workshops will be a catalyst for us reclaiming healthy relationships with ourselves and our bodies. We’ve done vaginas, now it’s time for the boobies!
Unlke the #VaginasonFleek workshop, this will not be recorded. You have to be live and willing to be seen to register. Anyone who identifies as a woman can participate, including those of you with implants (would love some dialogue around this and to debunk the shaming of fake boobs). I would also love at least one participant who has survived #breastcancer to add to the dialogue about what it feels like to loose a boob–might help us be better to the ones we’ve got.

Sea como sea, el tabú de la menstruación se está resquebrajando desde muchos frentes y los eufemismos para referirse a ella son cada vez más ridículos: se han editado antologías poéticas como Sangrantes(Origami), surgen festivales como CrankyFest, documentales divulgativos como La Luna Que hay en Ti y webs que recolectan las aportaciones de centenares de artistas anónimas. Basta con introducir el hashtag #menstrualart en Tumblr para descubrir muchas de estas obras.

Leer al artículo en Playground

Yo digo amor,
tú dices mierda.
Yo digo hogar,
tú dices trampa.
Yo digo caricia,
tú dices roce.
Yo digo abrazo,
tú dices nudo.
Yo digo luz,
hierba
nube,
columpio,
fiebre,
café,
poesía,
muerte,
ciervo,
niño,
río,
refugio…

Y entonces callas.

Yo digo AMOR
y tú no dices
nada más
que purititas m i e r d a s .

-Ana Elena Pena-

más poemas en latiendadeanaelenapena y en anaelenapena.es