On the power of naming a thing (second part)
That’s a picture, taken by Chelsea Miya, of some of my work for the Keyhole Sessions. I think this was taken in early May, quite possibly the second or third session. Chelsea was in the class that night writing an article for NOW Magazine, a local Toronto weekly. She spent most of the class taking pictures of the models, and during the intermission and after the class spoke to the models, the organizer, and myself, about the experience of putting the class together, and a little bit about the ropework that makes up the majority of the second half of the night.
In the article I’m first referred to as “bondage enthusiast” which is appropriate. I’m not sure if the writer chose that particular phrasing after receiving the URL to this site, but regardless, it certainly sets the tone for the rest of the piece. It’s a solid article that really paints the class and the experience of it in a very positive light.
It also uses my name.
It uses my name, to be clear, in a totally consensual way. As soon as I heard that someone from NOW was going to be at the class that night, I knew what was going to happen. Immediately I knew what I was doing, at the end of the night as soon as I started answering the questions the journalist was asking me. In the back of my head, I guess I’d been waiting for the moment to make myself more public – if for no other reason than to be able to stop thinking about having to conceal this side of myself.
In an earlier post, I wrote, “I’ve been thinking of the power behind naming a thing, especially in an environment like this one where a name, once said, is always present.” This is how things are for me, now – it is and will always be present. As it stands, when you google me, the NOW article shows up on either the first or second page – usually right after a bunch of old theatre links and some Twitter highlights. Not that I think I’ll be googled that often, but I do work in the digital media field. You never know. Googling people you meet has become a pastime for some, these days, with SO much information available online – often as a sort of pre-date credentials check.
I don’t care, much, if at all. Things going on in my life right now make hiding any part of myself, especially a part that has given me and continues to give me so much, self-destructive and self-denying to a truly upsetting degree. To continue to spend even the smallest amount of energy in any kind of masking is counter productive to the point of insanity. LIfe is stressful enough as it stands right now to add to it, in any way.
My father’s body is full of cancer – bones, blood and brain. After three years of clean tests it’s come rushing back at a pace nobody could have foreseen. He’s started chemo & radiation, but it’s still too early to tell if it’s had any effect; even if it has, what he is full of is incurable. It’s going to take him, sooner or later. I have no illusions about that. I also cannot help but think about my grandfather, who also (I found out, quite a bit later) died of cancer.
To be clear – this is NOT me sounding some kind of genetic death knell. I am Not quite that degree of pessimist. I have been warned, many times, against holding on to thoughts like this, to “putting that kind of energy out there”. Regardless of what I might think about that sort of energy-philosophy, truly, I’m not. What I am doing is thinking more about how I want to spend my time, and my focus, and my energy.
I’m thinking more about what it means to be named, now, and what it’s going to mean to my life from this point on.
