“The way food exists for you. For your consumption, without fear of emotion. Quiet. Waiting to be lapped up by your knife. Waiting to be peeled for you.
This is how I have felt. Through countless instances, relationships, assaults. Like the butter that sits quiet, getting softer for you to spread it over you. butter without a voice. Like the lemon who doesn’t own its own skin.
So take me, as that. I will replace my skin with a second skin, one that is creamy and spreadable and quiet. It is not my real skin, you can take a knife to it, I will not feel it. The skin that exists for you.”
Adjacent to this performance, I had been collecting my spit in a jar for two weeks, and created stickers of this jar to be given away. To put myself into something physical, give agency also to my spit, to spit out the anger.