I wrote this post on my personal blog a few days ago about an art photography project by the wonderful Molly Landreth. I didn't want to post it here, and I'm still not going to post the essay entirely; it's too personal for these pages. However I did want to pose the concluding thoughts and questions to everyone:
Seeing these photos makes me wonder: when someone says that I'm pretty, is it becuase I make a good looking girl, or is my body - with the breasts and hips and big bones and broad shoulders and square face and brow ridge and penis and all - is that combination itself a thing of beauty? I also wonder, idly, if photographs of me show the same confidence, the same intense sense of a tangible identity, or if somewhere in between the occasional thoughts of Shame and passing privilege my eyes instead show deep struggle.
Is it possible for everyday people to step outside the male-female binary and see us as beautiful just for who we are?
Read the whole post here.