A War Of Distortions

My last full length act (already mentioned above) created before I chose to retire from burlesque to pursue other creative hobbies — I still never say never to an occasional gig — was a truly delicious exploration of my inner conflicted polarity, a distorted masculine and a repressed, man-like feminine. I wanted to explore what it might be like to play both genders in one act and to create a conflict between them. The theme of the night was superheroes. At that time I was receiving a lot of spam emails (which you might recognise too!) from a company relentlessly marketing a penis enlargement medication branded MEGADICK. I knew at once this had to be my superhero’s proud name. I purchased a superhero outfit, a little similar to Batman’s, and later amended by friend so to come off easily and include MEGADICK spelled in fat letters across the chest. I also recorded the Megadick - female’s (in clever disguise) voice and comments on video so that, using a projector, she could interact with Megadick - male, live on stage. The two engaged in a real time gangsta rap battle performed to “Gangsta’s Paradise” to determine who is the “real thing” and who is merely a usurper. Towards the end the two also did a competitive strip dance where the female revealed large fake nipples (pasted on top of my real ones!) and a huge fake bush, while the male sported rich chest hair, created out of an afro wig, and a big cock made with a stuffed nude stocking, attached to a nude thong. Once the clothes were off, even though he laughed her off as a female (who can be female and a “real” superhero?), eventually the victory was hers. Instead of resting on her laurels, mindful of the practicalities of her job, she decided to imminently fly to another part of the galaxy to sort out yet another crisis.

We live in a world of angry women. We live in a world of confused men. We live in a world where yin-yang polarity is all tangled up but not because the feminine is becoming more like the masculine and vice versa. What seems to be happening instead is that the feminine as well as the masculine are losing their centre or their essence, which is where I tend to agree with the arguments of David Deida, an author and a motivational speaker, infamous for his work The Way Of The Superior Man. Deida’s teachings, even though focused on personal, spiritual and sexual mastery, can also be applied to how we behave, lead and inter-relate in the workplace. In this work I purposefully reference those from outside the relatively tight spectrum of famous - and often over-quoted - business authors. We cannot be true innovators if we rely only on widely known and accepted wisdom. Plus, isn’t it more fun to learn, or to read, something new?

Coming back to the blurring of boundaries, as mentioned above, we are losing the natural polarity between the two aspects, manifested both internally and externally. Distorted feminine (using sky-high expectations and manipulation in order to magnetise that which she desires) and distorted masculine (action and penetration for its own sake, not as an act of service to higher values) show up instead. The masculine in its essence doesn’t need to prove anything to himself or to the rest of the world. The feminine in its essence doesn’t need to manipulate in order to magnetise. 

Naturally, this dynamic shows up in a variety of ways in the world of business. Personally, I’ve spent most of my career in the space of the distorted masculine (as defined by Deida). Underneath my relentless drive and ambition I just wanted to feel a sense of belonging to the startup scene and have the recognition of my peers. Digging deeper, I wanted to feel that I have a right to be here. I matter because of what I do. I think many of us, women and men, spend our lives in this place, fighting for an inner right to exist, convinced that it’s something that actually gets granted us one sunny day when we’re deemed worthy (by whom or what, no one knows). Success comes, and with it some amount of social acknowledgement but the sense of lack persists. Until, one day there’s an inkling, and finally a knowing that a sense of belonging is not something that rests somewhere outside and can be found or earned, like a treasure chest buried underneath a mountain of effort, tests and trials. The knowing often comes wrapped up in anger, or a sense of betrayal. Why has no one told me?! 

The truth is, I sense this particular kind of treasure hunting energy around some of my ambitious friends and colleagues and I know I can do nothing to make their path easier, just like no one could have persuaded me of this earlier. I still notice craving for social acknowledgement from time to time. This is how I know I haven’t fully embraced my inherent right to be in this world. The fact that I am here means that I am already wanted. There is nothing to earn. This is a key transition my inner masculine must go through in order to hone in on his real power. It feels a little like a right of passage, a boy learning what it actually means to be a man. 

When it comes to my inner feminine, I’ve also spent some of my life in the space of distortion, trying to find outside that which I lacked on the inside. I’ve built up expectations on what a “real man” is supposed to be and feel like, on what my wedding night was going to be like, on how I would be held and cherished by men in my life forever more. And I was in for a surprise. Firstly, there are no “real men”, the way we - women, who operate from a distorted, wounded place - picture them. It’s a fantasy designed to project inner pain onto a perceived lack of good guys (“there are no good guys anywhere any more” - how many times have I heard this!) in the outer world. 

Lastly, am I held and cherished by men in my life like I’ve always wanted to be? Yes and no. I receive a lot of gifts of love, attention, adoration. And also, the men in my life are intelligent and mature enough to know it’s not their job to hold me, or even to make me feel desirable. If anything, their eyes and actions are a mirror for how much I’m able to cherish myself. And more, how much compassion I can have for all the pieces of me that make me cringe when I see them.