Acknowledgement | Hands
My hands were freer than I was. I learned after several years to stop showing all of what my hands could do because that kept me safer, but they could do what I could not. They could express what I couldn’t, go places I could not go. What I made with my hands was my outlet. Everyone else pretended it was not real, said my reactions to everything were too strong, but my hands could tell the truth, even if only to me.
This is part of series of self-portraits I’m creating in order to make the emotional and psychological abuse I suffered at the hands of my father and step-mother into a visible and tangible form. Even if they won’t acknowledge what they did to me, I aim to have them outnumbered by people who do.
Here this is on Tumblr. Do not repost, no fetish or porn blogs, don't be a dick.