While I’m reading, a sentence will grab me and force me to stop. I pay tribute to other authors by sharing their Damn Fine Sentences with you. Then I recount a memory the words bring up for me. It’s about how books connect with your life.
“I could not at that time yet see this as such—as violation.”
———Ta-Nehisi Coates
——--The Water Dancer
###
In the end, I said no to publishing my nude photos in a men’s magazine, because male acquaintances, especially the ones I didn’t like, leering at my naked body, well … gross.
My first job after college, I was teacher’s aid in a grade school library. Three months in, my boss—a nice lady, diminutive, soft-spoken (what you’d expect in a grade school librarian)—asked if I’d be interested in modeling for her photographer husband who wanted to submit artistic nudes to a new men’s magazine.
I didn’t know why she stammered when she asked, because, whenever I heard anything resembling get your picture taken (subtext: because you’re beautiful and worthy, even though you think you’re ugly and worthless), I was in.
She drove me to her home, spacious and modern, just the kind of home I’d expect a boss live in. Leaning on the kitchen counter, we sipped Cokes and chatted about children’s books, until her husband appeared in the doorway. She glanced at him and then down at the floor. The kitchen got quiet. I didn’t know why; they were nice people, and I loved getting my picture taken.
He led me upstairs into a bedroom crammed with camera equipment. While he positioned lights, I stripped. At his direction, I sat on the edge of the bed, my dancer training taking over, posture straight but graceful. A slight adjustment turned me 3/4 away from the camera, looking back over my shoulder, one foot slid daintily in front of the other.
Even I could tell the pictures were gorgeous, but in the end, about to sign a model release, I imagined the men I knew leering at my naked body, and that’s the only reason I said no, because, really, the rest of the situation was fine.
It was fine for my boss to suggest posing naked for her husband.
To deliver me to him.
To sip a Coke.
“I could not at that time yet see this as such—as violation.”
———Ta-Nehisi Coates
——--The Water Dancer
###
In the end, I said no to publishing my nude photos in a men’s magazine, because male acquaintances, especially the ones I didn’t like, leering at my naked body, well … gross.
My first job after college, I was teacher’s aid in a grade school library. Three months in, my boss—a nice lady, diminutive, soft-spoken (what you’d expect in a grade school librarian)—asked if I’d be interested in modeling for her photographer husband who wanted to submit artistic nudes to a new men’s magazine.
I didn’t know why she stammered when she asked, because, whenever I heard anything resembling get your picture taken (subtext: because you’re beautiful and worthy, even though you think you’re ugly and worthless), I was in.
She drove me to her home, spacious and modern, just the kind of home I’d expect a boss live in. Leaning on the kitchen counter, we sipped Cokes and chatted about children’s books, until her husband appeared in the doorway. She glanced at him and then down at the floor. The kitchen got quiet. I didn’t know why; they were nice people, and I loved getting my picture taken.
He led me upstairs into a bedroom crammed with camera equipment. While he positioned lights, I stripped. At his direction, I sat on the edge of the bed, my dancer training taking over, posture straight but graceful. A slight adjustment turned me 3/4 away from the camera, looking back over my shoulder, one foot slid daintily in front of the other.
Even I could tell the pictures were gorgeous, but in the end, about to sign a model release, I imagined the men I knew leering at my naked body, and that’s the only reason I said no, because, really, the rest of the situation was fine.
It was fine for my boss to suggest posing naked for her husband.
To deliver me to him.
To sip a Coke.
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