The pain of growing up becomes forgotten, and the conflicts, excitements and disappointments remain hidden in little tummies, pushed deep so as not to be reminisced ever again.
Growing up becomes leaving behind, and the kaleidoscopic conflicts that lie under the memories you recall with pride or shame, are swept under the rug. This project, stemming from highly personal thoughts and recorded in five years of observation, is recounting specifically the pain of growing up, and the witness frame of someone who has trouble expressing. I wanted to detail the maturation process of a girl who just turned 10, who enjoys the sound of wearing high heels with her mother’s bra on top of her flat chest and pretending to be pregnant, into an age where she finally is able to get pregnant yet becomes ashamed of it, with details that remind me of my own process of growing up.
The girl grew up so much, even bigger than me in this five years’ time and found herself facing countless tidal waves. She wanted to express herself as a small girl, but decided it’s better to hide as she grew up, then even ran away after a while, afraid her shames would also be recorded. Then she outgrew herself into an age in which she can decide for herself on which roads to follow and when she finally arrived at a place where she felt sure of herself and her thoughts, it seemed easier to follow the road, at least until she encountered new agonies.
She reached a maturity in which she can question every facet of sexuality away from the shadow of others, and is able to lessen her burden by leaving behind shame, shame she does not even remember where it stems from, and examine her process concretely, unlike me. Yet, it is still not clear whether she suffers under oppression, or enjoys her game of nudity, or maybe she had decided not to look back after a while.