My "Queer Awakening" through a mid-19th Century Painting
I’ve noticed that other people in the LGBTQ+ community discuss having a “queer awakening” moment, or a “gay awakening.” I never really had that; I’ve just always been queer. I remember when I was a child, other girls would bully me for not fitting into gender roles, or they’d sexualize me for experiencing puberty sooner than the rest. Gender and sexuality were complicated, difficult, and traumatic in my childhood and I only started understanding my identity as a young teenager.
I’ve always been attracted to both women and men. Bisexuality is my normal. Genderfluidity is my normal. Despite my current hyperfeminine appearance, I’ve always lived an androgynous life. I think some of my first queer experiences were looking up photos of women’s behinds on Google Images (and not clearing the internet history quickly enough) on my adoptive father’s laptop or watching my girl friends make out in my room before I even knew what they were doing or the appeal of such an activity. But I wouldn’t call these awakenings.
The closest event in my life relating to this queer “awakening” experience would be going to the Musée D’Orsay in Paris and encountering Gustave Courbet. Specifically, his gorgeous painting, “L’Origine du Monde” or “The Origin of the World.” This artwork celebrates a woman with her legs spread exposing her hairy vulva as a sheet rides up her chest to reveal a peek of her breasts. Oh, how I was (and still am) captivated by this piece! The contrast of the depth of darkness in her pubic hair against her peachy skin was one of the most beautiful sights I ever laid my eyes upon and I was instantly enchanted.
Sapphic queer admiration is so different from the way cis hetero men tend to view women and their nakedness. I never viewed Courbet’s piece or the feminine body as something to assert myself over, to use, or see how it could serve me and my sexuality. I want to admire it, to appreciate and care for it, and dare I say even worship it? I think Courbet’s title is aptly named- the origin of the world. We all come into life through a woman, and many people desire to be back inside of a woman through a variety of ways. But younger me still didn’t even know what to do with these thoughts and desires. So, I just stared at it in silent awe.
The day that I visited the museum in France, I bought a postcard with a print of “L’Origine Du Monde” on it, and afterwards, cheekily showed off my purchase to the other students on the field trip. On the surface, a part of me felt accomplished in buying this erotic souvenir like some boy showing his friends a pornographic magazine that he stole from his brother. But it was honestly much deeper than that. This postcard was really the first object I could hold onto and say, “I want this, I like this,” referring to my queer identity. (Other than the tacky rainbow Eiffel Tower, I also got during this trip) But the Courbet postcard stayed hidden in my backpack and later got lost because I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Maybe it got lost because I also lost myself in the pressure of adolescence to conform and minimize myself.
I started drawing and painting nudes a couple of years ago and really perfected my style last year while practicing illustrating my own body. Some of my favorite drawings are combinations of different angles of my vulva mixed with florals that I’ve done in graphite. I’m not sure if I’ll ever share those publicly, (maybe posthumously) but I adore them. Each piece I make not only invokes Courbet’s painting that inspired me so long ago, but it also revives my love and appreciation for my body and feminine bodies in general.
I find it so upsetting and strange how policed and judged women’s bodies are and the demonization of the natural shapes and effects that come along with womanhood. We are told to shave our pubic hair, not have cellulite, have perky breasts, get labiaplasty if our vulvas are shaped like flowers, bleach our anuses etc. etc. We are told that menstruation is dirty, discharge is gross, and smelling like anything other than harmful soaps is disgusting. How exhausting and demeaning is that!? Every day we encounter a never-ending list of ways we need to hide or change ourselves for the approval of men. Count me out!
I love my body, but it’s taken decades for me to reach this point of acceptance. Just last night when I was in the shower with my partner, I told him how the stretch marks on my hips were getting darker and how delighted they made me. “They look like little tiger stripes,” I disclosed with a giggle. By today's beauty standards, I’d probably be subjected to loads of unwanted criticism. I’m curvy, hairy, I have cellulite, darkened skin, heavy breasts- and I love it all. I think queer love can include self-love as well, and I just melt into my softness, warmth, and comfort. I’m sensual and I’m nurturing to myself, something that the patriarchy and heteronormativity don’t encourage.
Courbet’s painting is an observation of feminine beauty that continues to take my breath away. The art I’ve made in honor of my own body inspired by his works feels special too. And while I’ve always been queer, finding representations and creating representations of the sacred nature of queer love, gender expression, and sexuality is paramount in celebrating my own identity and helping others in the LGBTQ+ community recognize themselves and feel safe in knowing that there are others out there that will adore them for who they are despite societal beauty standards, misogyny, and homophobia. Maybe we don’t all have a queer or gay awakening, but connecting with art that highlights the beauty of diversity can be an incredible way to improve our relationships with our own identities. For me, I experience love, sapphic love, queer love, gay love as this: come as you are and I’ll meet you there and find all the little ways to fall deeper in love with you.
~Anastasia Sergeevna Razumova
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