L. Pearce

RS: In what ways have you experienced touch, or how has touch changed for you through the pandemic? 
LP: Throughout the last year I went from feeling touch starved to dreading being touched. During this last year so much has been outside of my control and a new way I have coped with this is by regulating who had access to my body.


RS: How do you define and or understand resilience as it relates to owning an identity that is marginalized? 
LP: As a self identifying fat person, for me, resilience is about being okay with being uncomfortable. For a long time I only wore loose clothing in a vain attempt to hide my body. But my clothes do not make my body invisible. Those ill-fitting outfits may have made me feel invisible but I look the same size regardless of what I wear. Wearing those ugly clothes makes other people feel comfortable because it is a signal that I have fallen into my place in American society. We think that fat people should be ashamed of their bodies and do their best to hide them. I refuse to do that any longer. I want to live a life I am proud of and I deserve to be happy regardless of anyone else’s visual comfort. I don’t exist to please anyone except myself.


RS: How does Austin play a role in your experience of touch and or resiliency?
LP: Austin is my home town. I lived here until I graduated college and briefly before I started graduate school. I never really planned on living here again but the pandemic had other ideas. When I am in Austin I always feel like I’m somehow 16 years old again. I have stress dreams almost every night about having to go back to high school and something mentally and emotionally changes in me when I’m in this city. I revert to that 16 year old and that girl hated herself. I was miserable in my teenage years but I had no idea until I left for college. Being back here has made connecting to myself, my body, and my emotions challenging. I find myself angry and rejecting my family and friends. Isolating myself in my bedroom. The dark has always been a comfortable place for me and sleeping is my favorite escape. Being in Austin has challenged my resilience, I fight with myself everyday. Hardly any of my friends are here and my family is intense and chaotic. I am alone but that is a beast of my own making.


RS: What was your experience in creating your skin prints?
LP: I first made a print on my abdomen area close to my belly button. I have many stretch marks in that area and was genuinely curious how they would look on the print. I pulled the adhesive off my skin and was delighted when I saw how clearly they had transferred. I was struck by their beauty when removed from my flesh. Why don’t I see this when I look in the mirror? Ever since then, when I feel upset or insecure I think about the abstract beauty of the lines and how they interact with the rest of my skin. The second print I made was of my inner thigh. I wanted to see if a portion of my tattoo would show, it sort of did but mainly I was hoping to have the same experience with this print that I had with the last. The results were not quite as stunning but I enjoyed the process of inspecting my body to find the most interesting place to replicate.


RS: Where on your body did you choose to create your prints from? Why were/are these spots important to you?
LP: I chose the spots [because] they’re an honest representation of my insecurities. My belly and my thighs are not a part of my body that are conventionally attractive yet they are still deserving of attention and admiration.


RS: Is there anything else you’d like to share about your story?
LP: I’ve spent my life being ashamed and embarrassed of my body. This led to years of self inflicted abuse. I didn’t see myself as deserving a body or a life. I worked so hard to destroy myself I missed out on most of my childhood and grew into an adult who used anger to cope. Maybe if I’m angry they won’t remember that I’m so fat. I thought I could substitute strong emotions for a personality and that it would be so powerful it would make people forget what I look like. I desperately didn’t want to be the fat girl in everyone’s memory. I still struggle knowing that when people describe me to others, fat, or chubby, or whatever descriptive word will be used. It’s unfortunate that our culture places so much value on weight, body type, and skin. There is so much more to me than being a fat girl but I feel like much of the time I am reduced to this visual aid. They’ll remember that I’m fat, but will they remember anything else? Will they recall what I’m passionate about? Will the guys I date be disappointed when they meet me for the first time. I’ve decided that I’m attractive but it seems that most people have yet to come to the same realization.