Transparency: A Friction Between Flesh and Fabric
On bodily freedom and the limits of baring it all with a barely-there cloth.
“In my life politics don’t disappear but take place in my body”—Kathy Acker, Blood and Guts in High School
Around the fall of 2018, somewhere in New York, Peter Do’s Spring/Summer 2019 collection was released. Look 26, a black sheer shirt and asymmetrical skirt ensemble, featured the “spacer” material Do developed in collaboration with a German mill when he was a student at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT). Transformed from its usage in aviation and construction, the gauze-like fabric appears delicate, but remains structured while holding its weight. Somehow, one of Do’s black “spacer” shirts recently ended up in my possession after travelling half-way around the world and passing through various hands.
Photo courtesy of Kelly Janine.
Looking at the closet I have now, I find myself changed beyond recognition even though I am back to where I was five years ago, packing up my things after graduation to head somewhere unknown in the pursuit of a dream. From wired undergarments to binders, the various pieces that I collected to regulate and compress my body reflected the journey of interrogating womanhood, unpacking self-loathing, and experiencing gender dysphoria. At times, I believed my yearning for going under the knife was due to an internalisation of misogyny, something self-acceptance or denial could fix. At times, I considered it more practical to betray my gender expression and compromise a night out for my safety. At times, it seemed appealing to follow those a priori gender scripts that made living more convenient, albeit a bit suffocating with its rigidities. But by witnessing how some of my friends stayed true to their alterity over time, and the lengthy procedures they endured to affirm their identities, I started to change my mind. They showed me what someone’s reality can do for another: make visible the possibility for a freedom that is collectively shared.
Photo courtesy of Kelly Janine.
As I questioned how much of one’s authentic self can be revealed publicly, I became interested in how my “spacer” shirt would look like when worn on someone who had undergone top surgery. A regenerated body that appears scarred and flattened, but healed physically and emotionally. A body that could put on a shirt with a simple pull over the head, with no need for the criss-crossing of elbows or the fuss of hooks and straps that dig at the skin.
Photo courtesy of Kelly Janine.
The “spacer” shirt’s barely-there form, lightweight yet rigid like armour, is a semi-transparent veil that blurs the lines between modesty and nudity, invulnerability and emotion. An apt metaphor for being within and without, simultaneously embracing and concealing naked truths through the bodies that we are born with.
Photo courtesy of Kelly Janine.
By sheer coincidence, Trans Day of Visibility (TDOV) falls on the same day as Easter Sunday this year. TDOV, an international event that honours the contributions of the queer community, happens annually on 31 March. It has always existed since 2009. Meanwhile, the commemoration of Jesus Christ’s resurrection with egg hunts, bunnies, and hot cross buns just so happens to be a product of the Gregorian calendar. (And yet, this overlap has precipitated a skirmish between religious conservatives and liberals, Trump and Biden.) Simultaneously a collision and unification of two opposing worlds, the last day of March begs the question: who is to deny any individual’s humanity and right to exist? A timely reminder that there is still an uncertain future for all of us, especially queer youth, as we collectively face the rise of anti-trans legislation, fascism, censorship, and a burning world in a state of a climate emergency.
Photo courtesy of Kelly Janine.
Still, there is hope that we can publicly liberate the body from conflicting forces that limit and regulate its possibilities through the small, private act of finding the courage to accept ourselves and our expressions. Just imagine what it is like to own a free body—be it cis-heteronormative or otherwise—that exists without the fear of surveillance, objectification, or violence. One that can keep on dreaming, keep awakening, and keep breathing the breath of life.
Photo courtesy of Kelly Janine.
Special thanks: Min Choo
Clothing credits: SS19 Spacer shirt in black by Peter Do, black pleated skirt by C.Dam
