Is this video about me or about you? I can’t tell. Through my own shame and fear of being outwardly sexy with my body and music, I realize that the limits we place on one another—as cultural psyches dotted across the planet—determine our relationship with sex.
Vocal sultriness immediately came out of my mouth when first recording. And even though the final version of the song didn’t make the cut for the producer’s project, I was given permission to reproduce the song for my own purposes. Fast-forward five years to 2017, and Hugh Hefner’s death brought the song to the forefront of my mind, causing me to confront my internal convictions about sexual imagery, external criticism, sexual expectations, and the acceptable outward personas that we allow.
Humanity has expanded the simplicity of what was once a bestial, reproductive act and stretched it all the way to the outermost reaches of defilement, and back to the very edge of sacred intimacy. Sex has become tainted, toxic, horrifying and dangerous—yet loving, grounded, abundant and sustaining. Smack-dab between the outlying atrocities and the beauty of nature’s intent, lay the undulations of our arguments swaying for and against sexuality.
We are fools to think that a glance upon the outermost layer of a woman defines her; fools to think that what she chooses to reveal will reveal nothing of ourselves—that a reflection has only one side; that an utterance exposes only one truth.