I took a 33-week break from my genxtaste IG page and decided this past week I just felt like posting there again.
Here is a link to all the products I used.
The break came shortly after the social media burnout I experienced last October, and in the almost year that has passed, I haven’t actually missed it (at all). But I felt like I wanted to re-explore that relationship again now that I’m in a different place mentally with other parts of my life.
Since I was a kid, I’ve found that whenever I’m struggling I tend to do one of two things — completely overshare, or completely disappear. I’m interested in seeing if I can finally find a middle ground somewhere.
In the video I’m getting ready for my friend Deb’s baby shower while listening to Kathleen Hanna’s memoir Rebel Girl: My Life as a Feminist Punk. The song in the video is the one Bikini Kill song I knew well from my freshman year of college, “Blood One.”
I was never a Riot Grrrl but I very much wanted to be one. Like many identities I gravitated towards in my youth, I tried it on but felt like a fraud if I couldn’t do it “all the way.” Then, I often felt alienated and embarrassed for even trying. It’s why I never really spoke up at school or in class. Even in all my feminist theory ones where it was all women… I still felt like my voice wasn’t valid or “right.”
As much as I love writing on Substack, I feel like sometimes the community here (like most social media) reminds me of that time in college — in all the good and bad ways being around people loudly sharing their thoughts/opinions can make me feel. My online life has been a place for me to process the different sides of myself and being aware of others' more eloquent, more inspiring versions of what being a woman, a 40-something, a Gen X-er, a feminist, an actress, an Asian American, a childless adult, a daughter, a dog mom, etc. are — sometimes inspires me to contribute. And sometimes, it makes me want to shut it all down.
For the first time ever, I finally looked up the lyrics to the Bikini Kill song:
A-E-I-O don't owe you nothing
Nada, nunca
Nothing, never
I don't fit into yr dumb words
Language is memory pushing thru my skin
Bloody memory that filters everything
Blood is one
Hate is two
My pussy is three, 3
That makes you for
Peace, love, & equality
Your terms
I don't fit into those words
Yr alphabet is spelled with yr blood
Yr alphabet is spelled with our blood
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
I don't understand
This is a juxtaposition of how I’ve been feeling — hard / soft / old / young / confused / confident / dumb / thoughtful / heavy / superficial.
I got Botox a few days ago. After saying I wouldn’t. I regret it. And also, I don’t. Maybe I’ll process it here. Maybe I won’t. But for now, it’s all over my IG stories.
Lately, I feel more comfortable embracing all these different sides of myself, and giving myself permission to come / go / change my mind as I please.
I don’t feel pressure to “get it right.”
Everything feels, for the first time in a really long time, light and fun again. I love sharing, not having to explain, and doing it just because I feel like it.
FYI I’ve been using this bronzer/contour stick all week and have gotten a lot better at it. Sometimes it takes a little practice.