God

Memoir was my first genre. I studied it as a young educator in NYC and then worked with immigrant and refugee children to tell their stories through multilingual writing and art. They were so brave. I am less brave. I'm building a brand that will segue into a lingerie line, a memoir, a collection of photography.... and I am not brave. I can post about being a model with scars on her legs. I can write about how it makes me feel unworthy of desire and income and revenue, that being a sex symbol with ugly criss-crossed thighs make me doubt that anyone could ever want me. I can talk about therapy, and healing, and self worth. But memoir is about the guts of it. How does one actually put into words the kind of internal distress that leads you at just 6 years old to wound yourself? And at 8 and 11 and 16 ... and last year? I don't want to talk about it, I never did. But, and here is the crux of it all. Either believe in God and destiny and purpose or I don't. Yes God. Yes, I'll claim it. I confront my own aversion to self exposure and terror of being considered self-absorbed and disapproved of because I cannot find any other reason for my scars than one: there is a loving creator who gives us certain paths so that we can help others.

And there it is. I take my clothes off for God. Are you going to come for me religious right? Or am I free to claim righteousness?