by Cameryn Moore
So, at several points during the shooting of Phone Whore (the movie) two weeks ago, the director would say “cut” and then be really excited about the shot we just did, and invite me over to the camera or to the laptop where he was uploading the footage to see what it looked like. Every time I said, “No, no, I don’t want to see, that’s fine, I never look at myself on video.”
when I sit down and think about what I’m doing out in the performance world, what I’m trying to do out there, it makes me a little dizzy
Sometimes I worry that, between being openly sexual and openly fat, I am spending an unsustainable amount of energy maintaining my psychological defenses. It’s challenging enough walking down the street--a one-woman slutwalk, my own personal body-acceptance rally—but when I sit down and think about what I’m doing out in the performance world, what I’m trying to do out there, it makes me a little dizzy.
We select out, see. Women who are told that they aren’t attractive, certainly not attractive enough to be on stage, aren’t getting support to go for performing in the same way. I mean, fuck support, I’d settle for non-hostile. But the reviews talk about appearances, and the same looks follow me as I work a fringe line that come up while I’m out just walking on a sidewalk (“how dare she wear that short skirt? Doesn’t she realize how fat she is?”) and oh, the occasional vitriol from an audience member, angry that I have the gall to talk about having a sex life in spite of being fat. I’ll say it: it takes an extraordinary exertion of will to persist in the face of all that.