Good Vibrations Magazine

I do not cry.

I don’t cry at work, I don’t weep at home, I don’t tear up at movies. I. Do. Not. Cry.
I am a tough guy in a soft girl’s body. I like my world this way; it works for me.

Last week I almost cried at work. Okay, I did cry at work, just a little, and fast (and covered up with a false search for my waterbottle, somewhere lost within the store). I couldn’t stop myself. My eyes got fuzzy, too fuzzy to blink blink the tears gone, and then I was crying, soft and quick.

It began here:
Bodies and Souls; The Century Project, a book of photography by Frank Cordelle. Page 202. Black and white picture of a nude woman, one arm supporting her balance as she rests on a large boulder, the other arm outstretched, holding her cane at an angle to the ground. She is Else, and she was 87 years old when the picture was taken. She is smiling, and next to her, the text:

” Else passed on a little more than two years after I made this photograph. Though wonderfully sound of mind, she was by now trapped in a very painful body. Her politics and philosophy were never particularly conservative; she believed strongly, for example, in euthanasia, and ultimately chose that option for herself. Her full name was Else Maria Rosetta Charlotta Outzen Cordelle. She was my mother.”

Page 94. Calista, 30 years old. Nude. Sitting on stone steps that are scattered with leaves. A tiny tattoo on her left breast, scars on her legs, she looks like she could be a redhead. Her story is long and dark and beautiful and strong. Towards the end:

“I know that ultimately I am all right no matter what, and even though my childhood was wrong, it was mine and I am thankful for who I am. I do not have time to wallow around in self-pity and blame. I am not a victim or a survivor. Done is done. I know who I am. Sometimes happy, sometimes sad. Always Calista.”

Page 46, Ariel, 18 years old. Flower tattoo on her right shoulder.
Page140, Antrece, 45 years old. Ariel’s mother. Flower tattoo on her right breast.

Page 76, Toni, 24 years old. Her picture is taken where she works, a strip club. She is naked except for fuzzy red high heels and a garter belt. The mirrors behind her give us a glimpse of the camera in front of her. She tells us:

“This picture is only this moment. I have a whole life that came before this picture and a whole future in front of me.”

Page after page of women, naked, immortalized in photos on paper. I sat with this book for over an hour and still needed more time. Beside each photograph is a statement, sometimes from the woman herself, sometimes from the photographer. The text made me cry more than the pictures did. The text was where the real honesty came forth.

The women in this book offer their stories almost as a side note; reading through, I wondered how many of them thought, “Well, I’m already naked, I might as well tell them I’m ___” bulimic a cutter addicted to heroin have herpes proud of my size afraid of food. I might as well say that I have never felt sexy until I saw this picture of myself (Linda, 33 years old); that I had breast cancer (Leslie, Jacquelyn, Widdie, Patricia, Sherry, Chris, Kana, and others), or that I felt free having my picture taken (Kelsi, 7 years old).

“…for me to stand naked facing the camera–no props, no poses, just me–was painful at first. A deep sadness, along with some anger, wells up in me over what had been done, what I had allowed to be done to myself over the years…and I wasn’t able to hold back the tears.” Lumina, 54 years old

“…I was completely alone with this. All the decisions were mine to make for my body and my life. It wasn’t easy. i would much rather that someone could tell me what I should do. but no one, not even the doctors, could guarantee what the outcomes would be. All the choices were mine.” Karen, 59.

And I guess this is where the book hit me. All these women, making the decision to bare their bodies and their souls. All these women chosing to be free, chosing to name and own their histories, their scars, their bodies.

My girlfriend threw me a suprise birthday party over the weekend. A third of the guests found Bodies and Souls on the coffee table and could not put it down (even with me dancing drunk around them). Everyone should be given the chance to fall into this book, at a party or at work, brought to tears.

Sadly, GV can’t carry this book because of who we are, what we do. We’re fancy smut peddlers and delicious dildo slingers. Our store is about sex positivity, which requires us to be both aware and responsible with what we sell. Due to the underage girls photographed, this book cannot live on our shelves, next to material with “adult content.”

But the book can live in your home. And in your daughter’s home. And your best friend’s home. Swing by your local independent bookstore and flip through. Have a seat before you do, though. You’re gonna be there for a while.

Impressed and in awe,
.jameson.