Scene 1, Part 3

November 12, 2013 § Leave a comment

Wake up thinking I’m Frida Khalo.

Paint myself. Don’t have paints or a canvas, so use lipstick and foundation and my actual face.

Repeat the phrase “I was born a bitch. I was born a painter.”

Put flowers on my head. Consider eating Mexican food. Feel repulsed by my own lack of cultural depth. Still, crave tacos.

Why is Orientalism so often wrapped up in attitudes to food? Mmmm… Orientalism. Now can’t stop thinking about fried rice.

Stare at myself in the mirror. Try very hard to grow a monobrow.

Fried rice.

Feel a little lonely. Wander around my kitchen.

FRIED RICE.

Identity crisis. My culture bone is broken, just like Frida’s ribs, pelvis, spinal cord.

Suddenly remember why I do LIBERAL arts. Thesis paper identified: “Paints, Floral Arrangements, Monobrows: Situating Frida Khalo within a contemporary culturo-feminist matrix, with extra notes on globalization and international cuisine

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