Decolonize My Panties
During weeks 2 to 4 of The Artist’s Way, I’ve been reflecting on individualism and on wanting to be more of a slut.
There were some interesting reactions to my last update on doing The Artist’s Way. A few people reached out to say “I get it.” And they did (thank you). And a few people saw the opportunity to swoop in with encouragement for the poor fuck up that I am – and while I do believe they were mostly well-meaning, I would encourage us, when we have that impulse, to examine where it comes from. So, thanks for the concern, but I am fine.
I am fine, because I do not see loving myself as the ultimate goal. Does it mean I want to stew in self-loathing? No. It means I’m not interested in each and every one of my thoughts and actions being centered on my-fucking-self. Contrary to what the wellness industry tries to sell, not loving myself perfectly, in all ways, every day is not a problem to be fixed. It will not happen. Striving for it is a lost cause that only serves the people who sell us retreats, books, green juices and enemas.
I’m much more interested in loving others. And in others loving me.
So, please find below a rationale as to why you should love me.
I am a slut
Sadly, due to things like a pandemic, misanthropy and being shy, I’m not a practicing slut - but I believe in sluttiness. If you think that statement is self deprecating, your perspective on sex might be similar to Julia Cameron’s - and that’s fine, just not my cup of tea. She talks about promiscuity a bit like she talks about alcohol, which says more about her than about me, although both of us are alcoholics. First of all, what the fuck does promiscuous even mean? Yes, I’m totally going to according-to-Merriam-Webster this: “having or involving many sexual partners: not restricted to one sexual partner or few sexual partners.”
How many sexual partners is “many”? Or is it outside of a committed relationship? What about polyamorous people? For a dictionary definition, it certainly is vague, which kind of proves my point that it’s a word you’ll throw around when you want to disparage someone. I’ve heard people joyously refer to themselves as sluts. I’ve never heard anyone call themselves promiscuous. But frankly, until a few other floozies in the group I’m doing The Artist’s Way with noted that they didn’t love Julia Cameron’s take, I didn’t even really pay attention and brushed it off as just one of those things I could discard (kind of like god). I guess 25+ years of being out as bisexual and being rejected by most gays and harassed by the straights just did that for me: I know who I am and I don’t care if others disapprove. Moving on.
I am a heathen
You know, “just a normal witch.” So yeah, not a big fan of the whole god with a capital g kind of thing. Like heterosexuality, I’m glad it works for some. It doesn’t resonate with me, but given the function of god in The Artist’s Way, I can live with it. I translate it as “the creative energy”, which is a little less Sky Daddy and thus makes a little more sense to me. I agree that there is an unstoppable creative force, that my ego - the good and the bad - doesn’t matter much when it comes to it, and that it’s silly not to surf the wave because it is there anyway. I don’t know about the wave loving me, but it doesn’t hate me either. It’s just there, we coexist… maybe that’s love?
I’m not just an asshole
If you’ve read this far, there are two things I need to do to not be a complete asshole:
1: assure you that I did not talk about decolonizing and being a slut in the same breath just for clicks. Bear with me.
2: explain how any of that relates to my experience of doing The Artist’s Way.
To the second point: I’m just finishing the dreaded week 4, media/reading deprivation week. I didn’t actually dread it. I welcomed it. I did need to prepare a few days ahead of time, because my autistic brain needs a heads up before changing daily habits. I made a list of the notifications to disable on my phone, and another one of potential activities in case I felt a strong urge to watch TV. The week ends tomorrow, and I’m excited to pick up a book again and to go back to my favourite shows. But I didn’t need my list and it was a nice break. I work mostly from home, I live alone, and my cat died two years ago, so it’s been a lot of me and my thoughts, and that’s how I know I’m actually on pretty good terms with myself. First, there are so many thoughts, I am never bored. I even made myself laugh a few times, like a totally sane person.
But there’s one thing I couldn’t help but notice in what I’ve read so far: everything is so self-centered. Here are the first chapters:
- Week 2: Recovering a sense of Identity
- Week 3: Recovering a sense of Power
- Week 4: Recovering a sense of Integrity
And a lot of the activities are things like listing your creative foes, identifying the people who discouraged you, looking back, thinking about your dreams, you, you, you.
I get it, and of course, we do need to work on ourselves. But: do we need to do only that? Do we really need to do it first? Since it’s a never ending process, to me it sounds like an excuse not to engage with the hard work to be done in the world. That doesn’t serve the world, and I believe there’s also a big part of us that needs to be more in conversation with the world to be better humans, and more creative.
Julia Cameron makes a lot of assumptions: that we don’t say how we really feel. That we are people pleasers. That we are taken advantage of. That we are nice. These are middle class white women assumptions. And it makes sense - what other perspective was she going to write from? She wrote The Artist’s Way in 1992. If I live long enough to still be writing bullshit in 30 years, I hope I can look back and realize that wow, I have learned quite a bit and wouldn’t write the same thing now. Otherwise, what’s even the point? So I don’t hold it against her.
The thing is, although I am white and vaguely a woman – woman-adjacent, genderweird, annoying they/them, whatever – I have also lived on the margins enough to not really relate to those problems. I am not a people pleaser. I am not nice. I am not afraid of conflict. I’m also not young, so a lot of those things, I have already done. Not that it’s one and done, but I have gotten rid of the most toxic people. I don’t accumulate material things I don’t need. I don’t do activities I don’t want to do just because it’s socially expected. I am too autistic for that shit.
These are things to subtract, and I’m looking to add. Maybe it comes later in the book. Still, that approach doesn’t suit me, because it’s incredibly individualistic, and that’s what I want to move on from. My identity, my power and my integrity are linked to others. So is my creativity. I don’t live in a vacuum.
Perfection doesn’t exist
That’s fine, though. It doesn’t mean I’m getting nothing from doing The Artist’s Way. First of all, I’m doing it with a group, and I get a lot from learning how it goes for other people, what discoveries they make, what is hard or easy for them, their old wounds, their new hopes… That’s what I’m talking about!
And I have reassessed some things lately. For instance, I’ve realized that I can apply for some pretty well paid jobs. I have the skills, knowledge and even credentials required. I had gotten so used to being treated like dirt that I hadn’t adjusted to that new reality. And that’s on me.
During this week of not reading, watching tv or going on social media, I have started drawing. The last time I tried drawing, I must have been 7, maybe? Maybe younger. I remember being told my drawings were crap - which, of course they were, I was fucking seven! They are still very much crap, and I don’t care. I made an awful little cartoon. I love it. I might even make more, because it was actually a lot of fun, and it’s liberating to do something you’re just really bad at.
The Artist’s Way isn’t perfect. So what? Perfectionism is a characteristic of white supremacy anyway. So is individualism. So it makes sense that that aspect of the book would bother me, as I work towards deconstructing those beliefs in myself and working against those forces out in the world - note, both at the same time, because either/or thinking is also a characteristic of white supremacy. As a non-binary bisexual, that’s at least one thing I’ve always understood deeply.
The fourth week hasn’t been that hard, even though for me, not being online means being isolated. But it has crystallized something: I’m only interested in keeping looking inwards if there’s something to reflect outwards, and if something is reflected back.
“I am 50% love, 50% spite.”
A quote directly from my morning pages.
The idea that you can’t love others if you don’t love yourself makes no sense to me. Who came up with this idea that everything starts in and from yourself? How self-centered. It’s funny how that belief conditions me to believe I am my worst enemy, instead of, say, capitalism, white supremacy, or ableism.
The world was alive before me and will be alive after me. It does not need me, which is why I tend to resist affirmations like “you matter.” Individually, I do not, actually. That’s fine - liberating, even. I matter, yes, as part of a whole. If there is some innate love in everything that exists, it is already there. If there isn’t, and I have to learn it, why can’t I learn it by loving others first? I love bats, and cats, and dogs, and raccoons and opossums and trees and rivers and stories… and even sometimes people. By loving them, and them occasionally loving me back, I have learned to love myself. See also this love poem by Andrea Gibson.
It would be essentializing and inane to consider that some cultures are inherently more collectivist. There are different collectivist approaches, some have been built over centuries or more. Others have been built or solidified through hardship. Destructive forces like colonization, slavery, forced institutionalization can often only be resisted as groups. So is late stage capitalism, so I really hope the west, and in particular the more melanin deficient such as myself, can unlearn extreme individualism. It doesn’t mean there isn’t space for cultivating our individuality. But it is time to stop getting in the way of Indigenous stewardship and follow their lead.
There have been moments in the past few weeks when I’ve felt the kind of love I want to feel more of, when I felt connected. Exchanging a few messages about a stunning poem someone had shared. Chanting for a free Palestine. When a writer friend emailed me today, after a week off from social media: “When do you come back??” You know those dogs whose eyelids flutter when you move, because they can’t imagine that your hand will do anything else than hit them? Sure, when I saw the email title, at first, I thought it was spam. Then, I realized it was actually a lovely message. A moment of connection. Everything I have learned, I have learned the hard way. But I can tell something is changing.
Apparently, some people do like weird mutts, even though it took so long to find them that I’m having a little trouble believing it. So yes, trusting the process, trusting oneself is important. For me, the biggest challenge is learning to trust others. I know I can do a lot alone. But what’s the point, if I can’t share? I also know I can’t give my best when my focus is constantly on survival. So I’m learning to trust the extended hand.
The way forward is together.
I’m looking to build a community (of sluts).
Related suggested readings:
White Women, Regina Jackson and Saira Rao
Choose connection & devastation over silence & a hollow life, by
This gorgeous animation by Dana Durr:
Coming soon-ish (time is an illusion)
My first artist date was going to a museum. I have more museum outings planned, as well as just places to visit. But I’m tired, and it’s fucking cold, so I’ve been prioritizing things I could do at home. I’m revisiting movies I haven’t watched in years (decades for some of them) and that were incredibly important to me.
The first one was Seven. What a trip. The following week I re-watched The Usual Suspects. Next: re-watch The Silence of the Lambs, and once I’m done I’ll share a few thoughts about those three movies, what they meant to me as a teenager, and what the fuck was/is wrong with me. Fun!
Thanks for reading. Love you, bitches.
This was a treat to re-read! Cameron's assumptions about her reader are very striking, so there's a lot to unpick before we can even engage with the content. As you say, it does make me wonder what else she might be missing. Perhaps it's time for another book that explores similar themes, but with a more inclusive, holistic lens? I'd certainly buy that book!
"I’m much more interested in loving others. And in others loving me." That line just hit me in the face in the best way possible! I never thought of love like that. And all your other reflections in this newsletter were so interesting!!!