I’m late to announce this but I’m part of the Sadgirls Rage Art Show in Seattle at the Blue Cone Studios, curated by Heartless Twyla.
“TWO CLOSING RECEPTIONS
BLUE CONE STUDIOS
1520 11th Ave Seattle, WA 98122
SUN 8/27 @ 12-4PM
MON 8/28 @ 4:30-7:30 PM
Art show curated by Heartless Twyla & featuring work from:
Carolyn Hitt, Natalie Lyn Estrello, Jaiden Grayson, Twyla Sampaco, BT Orsolya Barna, Marina Boichuk, Ildely, Tobi M. Ward, Annie Reierson, Elisabeth Vasquez Hein, Alyssa Guzman, Sandy King, Frankie Sarpola, Connie Fu, Lana Blinderman, Athena Lyda, Aya Mandley, Leah Freed, Calum Coulter & Mackenzie Hoeckley
With poetry by Iris Orpi & Eileen Ramos”
It’s an amazing art show featuring “Dark feelings expressed in bright colors. Power that comes from soft hearts in constant collision with a relentless world”. I was graciously invited by my friend and curator Heartless Twyla and contributed the below essay. You can go to the closing reception tomorrow Monday, August 28th from 4:30 PM – 7:30PM. Twyla worked really hard to put together an exhibition that’s deeply vulnerable, wide-ranging, and empowering. I wish I could see it in person.
This essay was cathartic to write and necessary. It helped me process suppressed emotions and events and I’m grateful to Twyla for leading to me to this work.
Content warning: sex, depression, self-hatred, violence
I long to harm you
by Eileen Ramos
“Do you wanna watch this show?”
“If you want to.”
“That’s Eileen speak for yes”
I laughed a little too hard, and my smile a little more strained. I can’t even say yes without making sure he wants to. Too scared to refuse because what if he won’t love me anymore?
But what’s scarier is how much I filter the truth to appease those I care about. And even those I’ll never want to love: co-workers, acquaintances, strangers on the street, the audience on the Internet.
Oh I’m genuine, but enough to still be palatable. Dressed in eloquent phrasing, a smooth and rich delivery. Always in a light, sweet voice, a disarming laugh, a sugary smile. My pitch heightens when you’re an older man. I never omit a please nor excuse me, always thanking you no matter what you inflict on me. Despite how much I wanna run. I stay put like a good, polite girl, allowing your leers and slights cut me smaller than my five foot frame.
Did you know I daydream getting into fights on the street? Yelling, swearing, pulling hair, punching freely, kicking your most vulnerable. With people I don’t even make eye contact with. Who did nothing wrong to provoke me but exist. Oh I keep my arms and desires to myself, but I make a fist every so often to remind myself I can. Just one elbow jab to their eye socket. A well-aimed kick to their groin. A devastating line to wipe the pompous sneer off their fucking ugly face. I long to spit venom but the resentment remains, corroding my self-respect and urgency to protect myself.
They are always right.
They know my life and my worth better than I do.
They must be upheld despite their scummy boot on my neck.
They can fuck right off with that bullshit. I deserve to be loud. To glower at their wolf whistles. Smack their jaw if they get too close. To deny when they demand too much. Especially if they pretend to be a nice guy™️ to get me to do what they want.
A blowjob in the backseat without returning the favor.
Pay for the hotel and the beer without letting me have more than one fucking can.
Edit their screenplay without offering to critique my own work. Which is totally fine because they are such suckass writers they can’t even keep their characters’ names straight.
I don’t deserve shitty selfish behavior.
Get myself off after a lousy lay while they snore beside me.
Uber to their place instead of meeting me in the middle.
Stay silent when I want to argue and actually stand up for myself.
Enough. I cannot do this anymore. I refuse to be a martyr for someone’s mediocrity. I refuse to sacrifice when I am never acknowledged in public and only seen at night. I will not deal with fuckers who I wouldn’t want near my friends. Who pretend to care about me just to get into my panties.
Most of all, I refuse to keep shaming myself for allowing this all to happen. This anger should not have been aimed at me but at them. My only issue is I give too much when I need to walk away. I shouldn’t have to shrink myself and be demure no matter who I’m with. I shouldn’t be scared to speak up for myself.
No one should.
I don’t wanna waste time on people who never give me anything in return. Who wouldn’t even consider. I don’t understand how I lived my life like this. Why I hated myself this much for so long.
I wish I acted on my rage more and hurt them like they harmed me. Until their fake self-pity crawl back into their dead eyes.
I don’t know how to hurt less.
How do you stop feeling empty?
How can you finally let go?
