6 SEXIST ADVANTAGES GIVEN TO WOMEN THAT MEN DONT GET

I am a fashion model who models as both male AND female. Every day- I walk an extreme line between both genderworlds in order to maintain my believability and success. Recently, a fan sent me a letter which, amongst many things read:

"Rain-I regret to inform u that Im UNLIKING your page. I really admire what u stood for until u posted about the sexist comicbook illustration. I am not sure if u are aware but sexism does not exist in the USA. Women like urself make men like me feel bad for something that was solved a long time ago. It really is shitty because I feel like men have to bend backward to women in our country to avoid being sexist."

www.facebook.com/raindovemodel

Since I HAVE spent a fair amount of time amongst men, identified as male, and treated as male- I have gotten a secret look into their woes and advantages. I have come to realize a while ago that while we want a better equality for women we have to recognize that there ARE unfair opportunities given to women that men don't get. The nature of these opportunities and the reason they are given perpetuate the standards women hold in the eyes of men and within their own female communities. SEXISM GOES BOTH WAYS FOR SURE "Disgruntled Former Fan".

(Hate to talk in binary gender language right now, but it's the easiest way to do this.)

So- in response to the letter above, I have compiled a list of interesting things that women get that men don't. Maybe women ARE taking over?!

1: FREE CLUB ENTRY

This was the first thing that triggered me to write this article. I went out with my guy friends to a club and found myself getting denied free entry... Shelling out about $50 just to cross over the threshold after great scrutiny about what I was wearing from the bouncer. I knew I couldn't afford that kind of cash every time I wanted to socialize as a regular working joe. I also knew though, as a woman, it was difficult to network about business prospects with other men and high rollers... who sat at tables with bottle service and beautiful women around them. I'm not an ugly woman, but let's face it, I look like a drag queen before I look like a hoochiemama. So in order to overcome this, and gain the maximum benefits, I decided to wear a dress and heels in order to gain free entry into the club as well as into the VIP lounge. But once stamped with VIP ink, and in the lounge, I would promptly change into male attire and return to the VIP section to network as a VIP male. Which gave me more power to speak about business engagements. It was insanely difficult as a man to get ANYWHERE for free!

Women often get free entry- no matter their looks, ethnicity, or financial status. The top clubs in NYC will often let in ANY woman off the street as long as she has an ID. She doesn't need to wait in line and she doesn't need to be on a guest list unless it's a private event... And even then- if the dress is short enough....

Men have to wait in line, pay their way, often times they have to know someone to get in. They must have looks or money to get through the door. It's a difficult process,many times each guy is treated as if they are a bloodthirsty monster lunging at the building trying to fuck every girl inside. But this isn't true... Or it's just as true of women.

People go to clubs to dance, hang out, have sex, and do drugs and alcohol. Period. It's rare to find a tourist admiring architecture and lights inside. The whole, let women in FREE thing perpetuates the idea that they are sex objects because when a man has to buy his way in, it's almost as if the club is saying that the money includes the experience/opp of free women. And that my friends is slaughterhouse prostitution. Pay your way women.

2: CLOTHING VARIETY

Heading into a store with some guy friends to shop, I agonized over the experience prior. I hate shopping and when I go with women to shop for femme clothes it can take hours and I get overloaded with decisions. However, to my surprise our experience only took 30 minutes... Why?

Women just downright have more variety. I know it sounds funny to say and many people are probably staring at this like DUH. But it's true. They have all the classic garments known to be worn such as dresses, skirts, sweaters, capes, turtlenecks, blouses, leggings, socks, heels, boots, belts, earrings, ring rings, watches AND all the "modern" fashions of men too. That means pants, suspenders, sneakers, bow ties, neck ties, collared shirts, tshirts, cuff links and hats of every variety. If a woman wears suspenders, a bowler, bow tie, black pants, and a white collared shirt... As long as she has a streak of lipstick on this will always be considered a sexy choice or a power choice.

Men are limited to just men's fashions. They have pants, suspenders, sneakers, bow ties, neck ties, collared shirts, tshirts, cuff links and hats of every variety. But that's it. A guy friend once expressed to me that he loves the feeling of kilt wares but feels he can't wear them because they are hard to find and women will laugh. In the fashion world there are plenty of femme wares for men... But in the commercial consumer world there's no room for it.

Go to H&M in NYC and there are three floors of women's clothing and one floor divided between men's clothing and baby clothing. No WONDER men don't shop often. I mean- what's there to buy? It's not fair that a man can't find a silky blouse or a skirt or even a dress that they like and buy it without feeling rejected or fearing being treated like there is something wrong with their sexuality. In my opinion just because you are male and like to wear a dress doesn't make you a cross dresser or a tranny any more than a girl wearing pants does. It's JUST clothing. Our version of "fur" in the animal world... And we should be wearing what feels comfortable.

3: INSURANCE

While going into an insurance agency a few years ago to seek car insurance, the secretary thought I was male. She sat me down, got me coffee, and as I asked about rates etc- she handed me various stacks of paperwork with obscene numbers on them. As I gawked at my estimated pay weight, and angel of gender knowledge swept into the room to borrow a pen and asked if I were being treated like a proper lady. The associate handling my inquiry turned bright red and apologized, starting our process over again and before I knew it, my insurance rate was miraculously cut almost in half. One quick slip of the truth that a dick didn't sit in my pants and suddenly they trusted me more. Which lead me to note...

Women typically pay less for insurance. Maybe the statistics of women not putting the pedal to the metal are true, but they aren't true of all women. And the stats that men are more reckless is not true of all men. The fact is that women can pay up to 50% less for insurance on their vehicles- and that's great for women. Who doesn't want a financial break?

But the fact is that men have to pay up to 50% more. And that's not fair. It's discrimination. It's like saying that because a majority of people in prison in Indiana are black, that all black people are criminals. Or that since there is a high strain of aids in the gay community that all gay people will contract it. Or that because the majority of our presidents are white that all white people are trying to take over the world. Anyways- I'm getting carried away.

I'm just saying that insurance companies don't look at people on an individual basis. A man can be the most careful and wonderful driver all his life. My pepere has been driving since cars were made (I think...) and he still drives to this day. He's very careful and hasn't hit any more children than you or I. I think we should run insurance on a merit and demerit system where all people pay equal in the beginning and then pay more as they mess up more. I bet Asians will skyrocket through the roof! (Juuuuuuuust kidding, but see how offensive that was? That's how it feels!)

4: OFF THE BOAT

As a former firefighter, I've been in life or death situations. One time, when my new crew thought I was male, we got stuck in the middle of a blaze with only one copter to transport. Which mean that two of us had to stay on the ground. They had me stay. While at the same time they took the only female firefighter, the female crew leader and an injured crew member. When the copter took off, we knew that there was a chance we could be injured or perhaps even die. And we knew the reason we were left behind first was due to the fact that women, children, and handicapped members' life value came before our own. Since we have "penises" and a potentially higher tolerance for abuse, apparently it's just easier that way.

Seriously during an emergency it's WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST. Fire, tornado, boat sinking, etc men suddenly go down in value. Now this is a Controversial one but let's address it anyways because it's something women get that men don't get. THEIR LIVES. When a boat is sinking, the life rafts are lowered over the side and women and children are urged to usher themselves into the crafts first while the men stand on the boat and potentially drown. This chivalry is great for creating order and dignity with death... And as someone who has huge tits it's great for me.

However, as a guy- this is a difficult one. What it says is that you are not worth saving. That you MUST die for your partner. But what about equality. Why won't a woman place a guy first? We are in the 21st century and nobility can go both ways. If women wants equal knighthood power, they must be able to wield it. It's not fair that during a disaster all men must die. Fathers can be single parents too you know. And there is a HIGH ENOUGH POPULATION OF WOMEN IN THE WORLD TO REPOPULATE... So no need to worry about THAT.

It's cruel and harsh to think about letting anyone die. But if we must, don't let it be because they have a wiggle in their underwear.

5: THE ROCK

I've never proposed to anyone, but I HAVE been denied engagement to a male due to the fact that my partner never could save up enough for a ring. And he was too ashamed to admit it even though I would've accepted just his word. Because in this day and age...

Women get that big shiny high priced ENGAGEMENT RING. Usually thousands of dollars, diamond, gold, silver studded... The ring is the modern equivalent to a dowery. So if things don't work out, at least she has something worth her time.

Any guy who wants to pop the question is expected to produce a ring that says he means it. Very few men have that relief of knowing that she will accept a piece of string... Or the anticipation that they will be receiving a $5k watch. The size and cut of the ring determine essentially the amount of effort he's willing to put into their long term relationship.

But what about HER effort? Seriously how many women propose to men? In this day and age, when women ARENT property and DONT want to be treated as such, why are they still expecting to be paid for? If she can divorce him as easily as he can divorce her, then there must NOT be as many shackles in the relationship as there used be... There must be SOME kind of freedom.

A marriage is an equal investment in this modern time, women AND men can both own homes, cars, be employed, raise kids, have pets, the whole nine yards. So why not START the marriage off on an equal foot by investing in each other equally.

6: MOMMY TIME

I was hired as a private in home caregiver a while back, specifically as a male in order to help a mother with her newborn baby. She needed an extra hand because she was exhausted caring 24/7 for the child. And after a few intense nights where heated discussions erupted between her and her husband about being involved in tach others lives, it came out that the reason they hired a male caregiver was to replace the sense of masculinity that the father would've provided had he received a Paternity leave... Which essentially doesn't exist.

Women get Maternity leave when the baby pops out. Anywhere from 2 weeks to 3 months of sweet paid vacation in order to recover and provide adequate care to her newborn poop factory. This is one of the greatest and most humane gifts of the career world... The opportunity to spend the beginning of your child's life in it's presence without fear of losing your job.

Men don't get this opportunity. It's true that they didn't crack their genitals open and spew out a human life. Or that they didn't trudge around for nine months with a turkey sized tummy that demanded to eat every weird thing in sight. But they DID have to deal with the woman who did. (Unless of course he was abroad, they had a surrogate, orrrrr the baby wasn't his and she was good at hiding her Buddha belly).

Anyways, when this beautiful new life comes into his- why doesn't HE get Paternity leave? Doesn't a baby have a right to spend the first bit of it's existence with BOTH parents since they will be making an EQUAL investment in it's future? Men deserve to have paid leave to care for their growing family in an intimate and present way. They deserve to spend the first development stages of wonder in the brilliance of nursing, cooing, and cradling. And the woman deserves to have him with her to share the moment. Neither parent should have to worry about losing their jobs over bringing another being into the world. Parents are EQUAL balancing entities. Period.

CONCLUSION

I realize through all of these experiences that we live in a world where things aren't as black and white as the first televisions that broadcasted gender role propaganda. This time of LADIES FIRST is coming to a strange standstill in the light of a shifting culture that's even redefining what IS a woman. Binary gender identification, current gender neutral tech jobs, and new priority in lifestyles for survival have lead to an increasingly equalizing community. It's not perfect now, and it may never be. But it's changing. Because people are demanding change.

If we truly want equal rights for men and women, we must demand equal rights for PEOPLE.

ALL PEOPLE.

And stop this tug of war, team by gender thing. We must see each other as INDIVIDUALS. I must see YOU for you and your definitive actions. And YOU must see ME for me and my definitive actions.

That's when women will truly be free. And men will be too.

(Ps: There's nothing wrong with chivalry, it's most welcomed....by all PEOPLE.)

Beyonce Picture:

https://www.google.com/search?q=man+wearing+a+wedding+ring+funny&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=H6z4U5K9KOW-sQSWxIGYBg&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1173&bih=611#q=woman+in+club+funny&tbm=isch&facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=hFsMhCxfLHiJ-M%253A%3BLCB_GbJqFq32_M%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fcdn.themetapicture.com%252Fmedia%252Ffunny-gif-Beyonce-dancing.gif%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fthemetapicture.com%252Fgirls-at-the-club%252F%3B500%3B324

Dress:

https://www.google.com/search?q=man+wearing+a+wedding+ring+funny&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=H6z4U5K9KOW-sQSWxIGYBg&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1173&bih=611#q=man+in+dress&tbm=isch&facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=2v5jPEnknVhsfM%253A%3BCLaN77Y6WmNoAM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252F2.bp.blogspot.com%252F-79KAhKVb1vg%252FT1PAAYe7HxI%252FAAAAAAAAARU%252FaERuQaPuVF0%252Fs1600%252Fpf-0829.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Ffeminisingsteve.blogspot.com%252F%3B384%3B540

NO SHIRT- YES SERVICE!

Every time I go to the the ladies room I make sure to unbutton my shirt before entering. Because what almost always happens is that there tends to be some young highschooler popping their gum in the corner or some elderly straight-postured women primping their faces in the bathroom who begin "SIRENING" when I appear.

Sirening is when the lady begins to scream, wail, or cry out in a fashion that might require exterior assistance.

Ive been pepper sprayed, hit by more purses then I can count, and even thrown out/ confronted by security guards so damned often.

In the beginning, I used to have a lot of anxiety about using the restroom.  I didnt have a penis so the mens room was not really the best territory... because the only people who use a toilet in there have problems or poo.

With the ladies room, I began developing habits- like waiting in my stall for the bathroom to clear if possible- before coming out to wash my hands. Or dashing in as fast as possible, head down- slouching slightly so that people dont notice my giant 6'2 height and broad shoulders.

One day though- I had been pushed too far. A pile of things had accumulated throughout the day and I had a rare moment of angst i just couldnt shake. I had to use the restroom pretty badly- and as I was entering, this woman gave me the dirtiest look. And it just tipped me over that edge. So I said "Excuse me- whats wrong with your face?" She said "Whats wrong with YOU? This is the ladies room!"

I just ripped my shirt off right then and there. Then proceeded to also take off my bra. She gasped, "Im so sorry sir- maam- I mean I couldnt tell your shirt was so big- and-" With that she scuttled away.

I walked into that bathroom completely topless- much to the shock of the people in there. No one said a thing, no one left, everyone just stared until I washed my hands and left.

I would like to say that with my newfound confidence, I dont have to prove anything to anyone when I go into either restroom- but with womens, unless I wanted to be beaten to death by makeup bags, and peppersprayed in the eyes with perfumes... Ive got to.

Now days, I dont necessarily walk into a bathroom topless- but I DO flash my tits like police badges. Ill walk in there on occasion with a really low voice and a Jersey cop accent and say "Scuse me ladies, official business, official business."

Sometimes when a woman yells at me "Excuse me sir- you cant be in here-" Ill turn around to see who shes talking to and fixate on teh most feminine person I can see if theres anyone else there. Then in a valley girl voice Ill say to that femme girl "Yeah- totally rude."

The thing is that I cant hate on these ladies for judging me like this. I mean lets face it- with a handsome mug like this, the height, shoulders, and swagger... I DO aesthetically come off as male half the time. And the women who hit me, push me, yell out... they are just protecting other women from the dangers of what my potential penis could mean for the room.

So for their bravery I salute them. With my hand. Since I can not do a penis salute.

 (PS: I only use the mens room when their lines are shorter PLUS I can totally get in there without anyone noticing I feel like Mulan whenever I do)

In My Pants

I Keep getting asked about THE DEEPER MEANING BEHIND THIS PHOTO. 

So here it is.

Pants make me feel safe. I hide behind them, in them, and through them. 

They allow me to transform and present myself into the appearance of a white MALE when worn properly. 

And in this country to be MALE is still more powerful than female. To be WHITE holds power too.

Presenting as a female to most career opportunities and social situations that rely on commercially authentic lady looks has never gained me much.

But through my jeans I discovered that when people think I'm a white male I get more trust, protection, and respect.

In NYC even I've been experimenting with Craigslist. I've applied to several gigs as a landscaper, handyman, 
bartender, server, plumber, etc. I've done so equally as a male and a female.

As a female I was able to babysit, do one landscaping gig (after putting in my response I was a lesbian), one handyman gig (after putting in my response that I'm a lesbian), and work as a cocktail waitress. I've applied to over 30 gigs as a female and have been hired for five.

As a male I have applied to 34 gigs. I have received only four rejections for my services. I have worked as a plumber, electrician, landscaper, bartender, server even consultant at a Wallstreet event  I had previously applied to as a woman and been rejected for.

I learned a long time ago that it was much safer and beneficial to look like an attractive young white male than a woman of any ethnicity.

And I've been exploiting that.

People say it's wrong. They say I should be proud of my femininity and that I should learn how to find my way as a powerful woman into success.

But I have.

It's called capitalism.

I'm selling a product... Me. And I want to be worth as much as I can so that when people buy me, I make more. What's worth more in this country than a white man? 

Times are changing slowly, and that may not be the case in the not so distant future...but for now it is. And I intend to capitalize on that. Because I KNOW I don't make as much as. 6'2 androgynous woman... and you can't expect me to just roll over and take that can you? Hell no! It's called marketing and branding folks! And sometimes you've got to rebrand yourself to have a higher chance at success and market yourself appropriately.

People ask me... What about women's rights? Aren't you perpetuating the idea that white men are better than everyone else by conforming to look like one?

The answer is yes and fuck no. When I apply to places, I'm essentially pulling a Mulan. People hire me based on their connectivity to my email, image, and references sided with their general predetermined needs for the position. When a woman gets hired as a man to do a job that a man should be doing, and can successfully perform it without being detected as a woman... It says women are of equal capability.

For me though, this isn't about women's rights. It's about survival rights.

If I'm trained, skilled, and capable of doing the same labor typically given to males then I should be allowed to pursue it. As long as my performance reflects an equivalent nature of those around me in that field. To deny me the ability to do so simply because I have tits and a knack for shooting out babies is to say that I don't have the same survival rights as everyone else. 

And everyone deserves the equal right to survive.

It's not about the gender. It's bout the skills we have to survive, thrive, and apply.

So for me, I have found my skillsets. Plumbing, electricity, carpentry, nannying, cooking, cleaning, landscaping, and most importantly... Appearing as whoever the fuck I need to to get the job.

I'm an not my gender. I am me.

Are YOU?


Demand more rights to survive.

Strong Arming the Boundaries

Back in the days of Wildfire Fighting, I used to think it was the coolest thing to be super buff. That an attractive quality in a female was to be able to throw a man over your head. And that an attractive quality in a male was to be able to throw the woman back.

In the modeling industry, women are encouraged to have toned but noodlesque arms that are pleasing but not visibly strong. Too much bicep and suddenly the woman is considered masculine and ugly.

In the same regard men come in a variety of flavors. Some are fit models with rippling biceps and pecs. Others are twinks with similar noodley formed guns as the women. 

Why can't both be acceptable for both? Why can women be seen in a soft wedding dress with blazing pythons? Or in a casual flowing cupped sleeve shirt with bursting biceps and forarms? Why is the commercial world so afraid of physically strong women? Why must women water down their exercise routines to avoid being able to lift a couple chainsaws at a time?

Our world is no longer a one where we need to tiptoe around the same life and death labor decisions our nomadic ancestors had to. Our work field has diversified in skill and our households diversified in provision. It should be ok for people to nurture their bodytypes in manners that are comfortable and healthy. Without restriction.

I am both a slender male and a well figured female. And either way I could carry you from a burning building. My ability to do makes me neither more or less attractive in either gender form. Or more or less capable of being addressed in either gender form.

If someone doesn't find you appealing just the way you are, it's fine. You aren't going to marry them so move on. Find someone who loves every inch of your body and soul. Because at the end of the day we spend so much time pleasing others because their happiness makes us happy. If it didn't... We wouldn't try so hard.

So here's a secret shortcut. Make YOU happy in the first place and you'll cut out the middle people.

(This blog is the first one in a while. So hang in there! More will be coming shortly!)

SEXual SELLS!

THE FOLLOWING IS RESPONSE OT A REAL EVENT THAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT. NAMES HAVE BEEN OBVIOUSLY REMOVED FOR PROTECTION, HOWEVER MAY BE REPLACED IN THE FUTURE IF THE FOLLOWING CONDITIONS CONTINUE. PHOTOS HAVE BEEN REMOVED FOR MODELS PROTECTIONS.

Hey FASHION SHOW PRODUCER NUMBER ONE OF TWO, It was great to see you last night, as well as some of the lovely ladies I've modeled with back in the day.

I wanted to reach out to you because last night I left feeling pretty upset about the production. There were many positives, such as e makeup, some of the model choices, theme, and energy that made it an exciting experience to witness.

But to be honest, the SHOW itself was very painful. Before I talk about why, I want to say that this email is coming from a place of respect and a desire to see you succeed in creating more impactful serious events. It is in no way a personal dig at you nor does it reflect my intentions with our future friendship.

First of all, while having alcohol in the dressing room can be fun for a quick toast, and understandably the birthday girls were smashed... encouraging models to drink constantly by refilling their glasses every other second will always result in the woolly, drunked, glazed, and sloppy walking that only lingerie can emphasize as sleazy.... Not fashion. Most of the girls could barely make it to the end of the runway... And when they stood on the top of the box, a few of them teetered barely able to stay up.

Second of all, a few of the models weren't even in clothing that fit them... At ALL. Especially in lingerie, if you want this to be a FASHION show and not a "here's my body, imagine fucking me because I'm practically naked" make sure to approve all outfits. Make sure they are tasteful and actually FIT the models. The lingerie from last night could have been really classy but due to the way it was worn by some, it just came across as slutty. Like a bad bachelor party.

Thirdly sending models who are BARELY dressed into a room that is 90% male when both the men and your models are CLEARLY intoxicated BEFORE a show is wrong. Just wrong. You are jeopardizing the integrity of your models, pimping out their bodies for your reputation, and  putting them in potentially compromising situations in which they could get sexually, physically, or emotionally harassed. When you do that, it cheapens your own image as well as the models and if you really look into it shows how little you think of them.

Fourthly and lastly, YOUR FELLOW PRODUCER at the end of the runway has got to put his dick back in his pants and out of his head. At the end of the runway, he was standing in a position that allowed him to help the models onto the platform. Right off the bat when the first model stepped onto the platform and turned around, he pointed to her bottom and said "see that nice ass?" Then proceeded to pretend to smack it... To which the other security guy who was helping her laughed and also commented. This type of lude behavior was speckled throughout the performance.  These kinds of comments... From your own partner in crime producer. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. needless to say that this is disgusting. Absolutely in UN fathomably disgusting and just trashy. How DARE someone... ANYONE... ESPECIALLY one of you two do that to these girls? How dare you treat them like one dollar hookers and make fun of them at their expense in front of your audience while they innocently do the show that you asked them to be a part of?! Is that really how you want to be seen? Is that really how you want people to remember your shows? "Oh yeah, Karen it was amazing! The girls were soooo drunk it was HILLARIOUS, and barely dressed omg! It was soooo funny because even the producer was pretending to smack their asses".

THESE GIRLS TRUSTED YOU. When you ask them to be in a FASHION SHOW for YOU, you are asking them to meld their image and reputations with YOURS. None of these girls are getting paid.... Oh wait they are-in exposure. Exposure of what? Their bodies? There were no talent scouts, newspapers, magazines, or buyers there! They only people that seemed ready to invest in any of the girl's futures, were simply looking to get sucked off for the night... For five dollars or less. When you aren't paying your models, and they aren't getting any further in their careers being in your production then at least offer some basic standards. PROTECT YOUR GIRLS... Don't whore them out in dental floss underwear to promote your image to drooling drunks potentially volatile people. A model should expect to feel safe. That mean s they trust your choice in wardrobe, you have the power to keep them sober and clear, and you hold their integrity at the highest level, treating them with the highest respects.

BE EFFICIENT their time is money even if you aren't paying it. Don't keep your models in a tight space for 6 hours running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Next time have models show up in stages so that they don't wait around for hours doing nothing. Give people time slots to get hair and makeup. Little organization couldn't hurt. (Feeding people wouldn't be a bad idea either)

But most importantly, these people are YOUR FACE. If you treat them in demeaning, derogatory, sexually perverse, disrespectful ways PUBLICALLY DURING YOUR SHOW then you should change your event titles from FASHION SHOW to PEEP SHOW. This is an industry where SEX DOES SELL but that does not MEAN SEXUAL SELLS. If you are ignorant of the wrongs of last  night then You need to learn the fine line between sexy and sexual.

Ultimately many of these models are my friends, and many I do not know. However, they are people who are holding dreams of becoming something bigger. They are people who hope to one day grace Vogue, W, NYFW, Milan, etc. These are people who eat less, work more, and spend hours working on their external beauty in order to fit a mold. They come to YOUR SHOW not because your shows are like Yoga or some sport club. Its not for a fun thing TO DO most of the time. It is because you are offering a means to an end. YOU are offering an opportunity to get one step closer to that dream!

And you are ruining it for them. ANY AGENCY in the country that's serious would never sign a model that was working a show like that. They would say , if the model would let themselves be treated like that what kind of standards are they holding for themselves? Why would our clients want to be affiliated with this standards.

You have a real opportunity to elevate these women's lives and help them achieve these dreams. If models that walk for you start getting signed, it boosts YOUR reputation too! But that will never happen on the track you are on. You need to change course, or start being more real with these women about what you are really offering them... An opportunity to have shameless slut time in front of a crowd of drunken guys at a bar no one really cares about for your own gain.

As said before this isn't an attack on you as a friend. This is simply a real view of you as a professional from someone in the professional industry. That being said, AS A FRIEND if I hear that this quality of production continues, I WILL have to distance myself from you. I will also, as the friend off many Bay Area models that you utilize, will have to ask them to distance themselves too. Because as a friend, I know that currently any affiliation of what you have to offer as a professional... Will only ruin their opportunities and dreams.

Make It Work

Too fat.

I am too fat.

Too big.

I am too big.

Too manly.

I am too manly.

These are the things I have been told over the past few weeks.

I am 6'2, 140lbs, have size 10 feet, and armpit hair.

I am not a PERFECT REPRESENTATION OF WOMAN.

Therefore I am not a woman.

Or woman enough.

...in the fashion world.


Over the past two weeks, my life has been curled into witnessing a massively powerful storm of love, hatred, alcohol, drugs, sex, parties, greed, identity, and trickery. It has been SO overwhelming I actually ceased writing this blog in order to process everything.

So let's return to where we left off.

1 week ago....

My agency sent me to a femme wear designer, the audition required tight black clothing and heels at least 6" in height. I'd only been practicing in 3" heels because who the HELL is seeking to cast a 6'8 woman? This isn't a basketball game!

I purchased heels at a place in which I was fully expecting to return after the interview. Out into the pigeon free streets of NYC, through Times Square, past the video billboards of women walking their bronzed long legs in tightly rippling strides on looped feeds that were plastered to various high end clothing conglomerate stores.

Into a building whose door was bullet proof but whose elevator had two of the buttons taped in place. The front desk man was lamenting about the loss of his favorite UPS delivery person over the fact that the building had switched to Fedex deliveries. He was very upset.

The whole place was very upset.

The designer sat in a small studio room playing light club music on an old boombox by the door...as if at anytime the RIGHT person might just WALK in and say "awwwwww yeah turn this up let's partaaaaay!" And transform the room into something more exciting.

The garments were actually impressively crafted. Most were black with fancy studdings and faux jewels embroidered into various pieces. There were shirts, pants, coats, and surprisingly no dresses.

The designer looked confused for moment as I entered in my collegboy styled jacket, but then waved me to a seat upon introduction. I shifted around awkwardly on the slippery fake velvet couch.

"Take this one and this one. Try them on for me please." The designer takes a shirt and miniskirt and hands them to the girl. She smiles briefly and strips to her bare essentials, handing him the previous outfit.

As he turns around to hang the clothing up, I see her face flash with minute panic. She's just realized that the miniskirt is very very VERY tiny. She blushes because there is no private space to change, so this process for her is public... It was only myself and the designer, but still... Public.

First she slips on the shirt, which hangs flowingly like something upon an apparition.  Then she steps into the miniskirt and begins to pull it up. It can barely get past her thighs. Her brow furrows, and the designer turns around and watches her, smiling slightly. He doesn't offer a different article to try on.

She doesn't ask for one.

This is the silent pact of "Make it work" that the fashion world has. As in... Even if it hurts, wear it. You want the prestige right? Then just deal with it. Stuff your feet in those shoes, stop eating, hold in your stomache, choke yourself etc. If a model can't MAKE IT WORK then they don't belong in that garment.

The girl squeezes her butt tightly like a bad exercise commercial and rubs her legs together, wiggling and squirming, inching the skirt higher and higher. It gets to her waist, the zipper has scraped her hip so tightly that it's slightly prickling tiny drops of floorburnesque blood. She twists the skirt back and forth, scraping even more, and biting her lip... It makes it over the region and FINALLY the skirt zipper settles at her belly. The designer walks up, turns her around and proceeds to attempt to zip it. It's too tight on the first round. He asks her to suck in... And she does so. A deep deep sharp inhalation that matched the sound of the zipper clasping the skirt closed.

He asks her to turn around. Her face is barely moving. She's trying not to breath. She teeters on her heels, he asks her to walk and she does so mechanically. Her eyes barely blinking. Upon her return, he nods and smiles.

"Great! You definitely fit this one well."

Photos are taken, her face is red and flushed, her eyes flickering slightly. Then just like that it's over.

The miniskirt comes off. She exhales and inhales as if she's having contractions.... Through the lips. Attempting to be subtle. A skid mark scratch goes from her thigh to her belly button.

And she's off.

Suddenly it's my turn.

The designer says he likes my look, and toes lightly towards asking if I'm biologically a woman. When I say I am he says "of courrrrrse you are! Of course. Of couuuuuurse."

Then he gives me a pair of pants and a shirt to try.

The pants are size 2.

I KNOW they aren't gonna fit. And part of me wants to cry, because I know I won't fit ANY of these items. I know he knows I won't either. He's just being polite. And IM EXPECTED to make it work. It's a test. If I can make it into these little leg huggers then I can have a shot at being in this show.

"I think these might be a bit small."

"That's your problem honey. Either it works or it doesn't. I'm looking for confidence and beauty here."

But, I can't event get my foot though the thigh section. Seriously, my FOOT is too FAT for the thigh section of these pants.

I take a breath... I decide.... I'm gonna do this. I'm going to MAKE IT WORK. And we will see WHO feels awkward after THIS.

So I sit on the floor and inch by inch force my feet to the ends of the legs. Then I proceed to pull them up but they only go to my knees. It looks like I've just come off the toilet.

I pull the shirt over my head and my breasts don't allow the buttons to close. They bust though the neck like a bad joke. Vavavoommmm

I turn around and say "want to see my walk now?"

He shakes his head at me, but I walk for him anyways wobbling forward on stillettos in designer pants that suction around my ankles and a shirt that pretty much looks like the Looney Tunes graphic where Porky the Pig pops out saying That's All Folks! (Except porky is my tits.)

He asks me to try another item. It's a mini skirt. And boy was it MINI. He also gives me the flowy shirt.

The shirt fits, but now my shoulders are too broad. I can't move my danged arms anywhere without hearing a micro tear. I tried to put the miniskirt on, but it won't pull up past my knees. I try wiggling, but it's just not going to happen.

"You are too big for a woman." He says.

I look up at him.

"What's the average size for one?" I ask as I continue to wiggle.

"0-4 maximum. That's it."

"Thats the average size for a model you mean?"

"Yes models size 0-4... And women in general who are healthy are average that size. You are just.... Big. Really big. You might be better with a menswear designer..."

A model suddenly pipes up in the corner, she entered sneaking as I'm making a fool of myself in this getup. "Yeah, I think you would be much better a boy. Definitely a boy model."

"When I model menswear, I model it as a woman." I say.

She tilts her long silky dark hair. "Who looks like a boy right?"

"What makes me look like a boy?" I ask, I've given up on the miniskirt. And now feel emblazoned to make a point on how being female isn't all about how closely your life reflects that of a sorority cheerleader from a bad college flick.

The designer interrupts "Well, you just have a strong jawline, and your style... Features. You're just... If one of my clients saw you... They would say you were a boy. Or a drag- um... I mean, you are big. Big big big girl. Too big for girl stuff."

The model nods, "I totally thought you were a boy when I first saw you! I don't mean to offend you, you are very beautiful too! BUT, you'll find that the women market here is a certain size and look. I'm sure you will get SOME female work, and I think what you are doing is soooo..... Cool. Unique. I'm just saying you should like just stick to menswear."

The designer takes my garments. I grab my stuff . Shake his hand firmly and leave.

"I'll call you, don't worry!" He says as I leave.

He won't.


I go down the elevator and stare at the duct taped buttons. I rap my forehead against the metal panels.

Why can't I just look like me and that be considered a woman?

Why am I considered too big?

I'm very skinny for my height....right?

The image of that girl hurting herself to fit a size she wasn't depressed me.

I desperately need work. Money. A roof over my head. Every day to be here has been a gamble thus far in all of these departments... Because none of them are stable.

I know that if I can't MAKE IT WORK there is a higher chance that this adventure will be very short and end very sorely. If I can't conform... I can't get stable gigs.

But how can someone CONFORM their physical body? Is that even possible?

Wait it is.

Lipo, breast reduction, starvation, drugs, tanning beds, makeup...

I went into the Planet Fitness changing room, and took off my clothing to shower. I found myself staring at reflection like a totally obsessed creeper. I've been working out every day to trim down, eating a modified diet, and putting different skin care products on that I've never needed before. It's been a totally committed bland life of get up, have a glass of water, workout, have a cup of food, go to castings, workout, have a cup of food, do bodycare, go to bed. That's it.

No socializing, exploring, touristing.

I've gone from a size 8 to a size 6 in two weeks.

I thought, as I was running on the treadmill, about this for hours.

I pushed myself harder, faster, processing my current situation.

I'd like to say that I came up with an empowering realization right away, but I could not. I found myself sitting in my own head, a fog of insecurity, self questioning, What Am I Doing Out Here.

It's not that I felt that I wasn't a beautiful woman or powerful AS a woman. I love who I am.

It was more that I felt that perhaps putting everything on the line to be here in NYC was a mistake. Perhaps there wasn't a market for me beyond the cliche gimmicks of genderbending. Or even, perhaps so much aspiration had been found in this industry that I feared failure would result in a mental shutdown.

I am human.

It wasn't until the next three days that things changed. Massively.

PHILLing in the Gaps

Today Phillip Seymour Hoffman died.

Ugh.

From what is potentially a case of heroin overdose.

Sigh.

If only he and his perceived world were good enough unaltered.

Over the past week, I have found myself going through alterations... And swimming through seas of individuals who feel that they would not be as beautiful or talented without them.

Alterations in diet, clothing, physical cosmetics, perception, etc.

People are constantly doing things to themselves negatively in order to make the world around them  see them more positively... Or in order to SEE the world more positively.

On a stairwell a week ago, when I attended my first few women's castings- there were female models who were talking about how they could only consume baby food.... In order to keep themselves thin. They discussed different brands, flavors, benefits. Their emmaciated bodies reflect a story of hunger and diarrhea.... But their minds are convinced that a single solid food may ruin the worlds view on their beauty.

In a similar casting, a model showed up hammered... Barely able to walk. While he managed to make it through the audition, he confessed to me that he can barely wake up in the morning without a shot of tequila. He feels looser, less judged, and more capable with a constant buzz. While his slightly hollowed but well-makeup concealed eyes convey a tale of blood and body poisoning.... His mind tells him that with a little intoxication, e world would be miserable and see him as such.

Even in petty environments, as in a few nights ago when I was crammed in a room with tons of femme models.... The alterations could be seen. People wore tights and miniskirts despite the subzero temperatures. They walked in ankle breaking heels, despite the ice and discomfort. They had body modifications such as plastic surgery for their faces  and breasts. They pretended to be ignorant despite their higher intelligence because they felt the world would find them more attractive if they were perceived as a little niiave.

People are living their lives in an altereds Tate constantly because they feel they aren't good enough for the world.... Or the world is not good enough for them.

This level of insatiability is destructive.

Things like drugs, alcohol, and extreme forms if self modification are not necessarily unhealthy in moderation. Many of the worlds greatest minds have smoked, drank, par taken in substances and social trends. But it's when people start doing these things to a point that they are codependent on the results in order to create an apparently more tolerable perception of the world or themselves to said world.

It's when we forget who we are. We forget our limits. We forget we are enough.

These models surviving off from baby food isn't exactly Philip Seymour's heroine addiction, but it might as well be. It's the same mentality that despite harming oneself in the long run, they world would not bea ble to handle you.... Nor you it any other way. It's the feeling of inadequacy and depression.

I find myself on a road in which I am modifying myself somewhat to fit this industry. I'm learning to walk in heels, changing to a size four, and using skin care products constantly to avoid breakouts.

And I can feel the effects.

Because suddenly I feel less acceptable as a woman if I can walk in heels.... As if the world of fashion will cast me aside. When, just a month ago, I felt just fine without this capability. So now I practice obsessively to nail the skillset down. Despite blisters, back pains, ankle pains, and the constant falling. Even if I learned to walk perfectly.... Heels wouldn't be good for me- or anyone. Ever.

I find myself also being more conscientious of nothing's like having abs, slightly smaller thighs, and being a size four... If not a size two. Because apparently, designers won't make clothing in my size, and if I walk next to one of these toothpicks... And we are both in bathing suits.... I will look MUCH largess. Every muscle line is seen on a toothpick, the natural fat in her thighs does not ripple when she glides, and her stomachs is not only flat but defined. Mine is just flat. Recently, I started seeing a line appear, and I got really excited that progress was being made. I even worked out harder than before to expedite the results.

Ugh but what progress? More like the digression of how I was into who this industry needs me to be. Why was I not good enough as I was previously?

All of these emotions about my inadequacies have already I been digested. I have come to terms that I am NOT like the other women. I am NOT like the men either.

I am me.

ME is comfortably a size 6. She likes eating solid food with salt. She enjoys chocolate. She prefers waking in military boots.

Right now, I am playing THE GAME.

I am working my body to be industry standard. I am learning to harness heels. I am practicing popular feminine mannerisms. I am balancing what I eat (with   pizza here and there). I am telling myself that this is just like spy training. Just like military boot amp. Just like the SEALS.

I am going to walk this line, and become industry standard FLEXIBLE. But once the industry has adopted me as a professional, I'm going to introduce myself to them. I'm going to fight for more size appropriate models, healthier promotions of balanced diets, the acceptance of facial blemishes should they occur, and the realization that heels shouldn't be required in order to rock a dress.

I know I can do this, because I know my limits. I have accepted the world as it is whether it is positive in reciprocation or not. I can handle the negative feedback, because I get it all the time. And if this training to become industry standard becomes too dangerous, then I will pull out. No looking back.

But YOU. The others who feel you must alter your physical or mental states in order to be more accepted or accept the world more.... I'm not going too say stop. I'm going to say...

The world may never be enough for you. You may never be enough for it. But fuck it. You don't have change yourself or the world. You just have to change your attitude about it.

It's a fucking miracle you are even alive right now. Do you know how many little particles are vibrating in perfect form for you to exist right now? How insane it is that when you consume something it turns into the blood that pumps into the very brain you are using to read this shit I'm writing? How ridiculous it is that out of 5 million little sperms that just happened to shoot out of your paternal figure's urethra... YOU are the one that reached the egg first.?

I mean there is a lot of crazy, beautiful, impossible, powerful things making you aware enough to scan the blog right now.

So don't fuck up a good thing okay?

KNOW YOURSELF.

KNOW YOUR LIMITS.

YOU DONT NEED TO ALTER YOUR STATE OF MIND OR BODY FOR PEOPLE TO ACCEPT YOU.... YOU JUST NEED TO ALTER THEIRS INTO KNOWING ITS OK TO ACCEPT THEMSELVES IN THEIR TRUE FORMS.

I can't wait to bring these words to every platform around the world I can for others to here.

But for now while breaking in.... Here's a video of a RUNWAY WALKING CLASS in heels with famous instructor Coco.

Sigh.