Provocative Lookbook #1: Click
Transitioning from ministry, The Foxhole, and hitting repeat
I’m offering this first lookbook to all, but these monthly installments will be for paid subscribers going forward. I received the “post too long for email” warning, so make sure to view this in its entirety at clavicle.substack.com if it gets cut off in your inbox.
After ministry, my sexy selfie shoots became one of the most liberating activities that kickstarted my sensual heartbeat. Still is. When I feel overwhelmed and stressed, I announce to my husband: “I need to take pictures.” With that, he immediately offers to take on any tasks that are on my to-do list, assuring I have no excuses.
Growing up in purity culture and tacking on the fact that I kept my throbbing sexual desires and fantasies restrained for two decades plus, I became more powerful and autonomous when snapping alluring pics.
This body is mine, and I will wield it without shame. I will fall for myself over and over again.
It’s been the biggest confidence booster. Sure, I’ve shared pics with special men and women in my life, but I’m the one who must be satiated. From feeling like Gollum with a big ass and uncomfortably shifting my poses, I had a hard time in the beginning, wondering if I was “doing it right,” if I owned my sensuality, craving its expression void of insecurity.
It’s one thing to “look the part” in a few photos, but the mind cannot be fooled. I learned early on that my internal faculties will force an outward display of my comfort level and scream loudly through pixels despite my coy smile while wearing a mesh top from the clearance rack at Ross. I’m sure to delve into this often in this series, what I was thinking, as well as other details that grab my brain’s attention.
Some may say this is (paid) click-bait, and men will gulp it up. I’m not an idiot. I’m aware of the attention I get. I’ve had my photos posted on everything from Feeld to Fetlife. BUT, my heart gushes when women respond and identify with the entanglements of simply existing as a woman, especially when other women sometimes find this threatening (e.g., being a great mother AND a commanding sexual goddess).1
Everyone is a voyeur. We just have different reasons for staring.
With my experience in ENM dating, I noticed many men came with abundant confidence without the substance to back it up, while many women struggled with insecurity, pinholes revealing a desire for sexual exuberance, or former versions of me.
I have a lot of reasons why I stepped back from the open dating scene, but a big one was not finding my match in growth and confidence. I believe my photos helped catapult me, once a girl who wanted to throw up before school every morning out of anxiety, to a place of restful self-possession.
I’m never going back to a place of embarrassment and shame as I continue to embrace sensuality, but the journey hasn’t been easy. And in this monthly series, I’m here to unravel how I got here.
“Let’s start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.”
“Do-Re-Mi,” The Sound of Music
Well, this isn’t really provocative nor the true beginning, but I had to show you what we’re working with here. This is me, five years ago, in pastor’s wife mode and on the cusp on getting serious about my writing, a beginning of sorts. I despise this picture. Not so much of the stupid flowy top and linkable sanctuary chair background, but more so because of what was going on inside my head. I think I had a woman at church take my picture, so I would have a respectable writer’s photo for my Christian women’s publication pieces.
Safe. Conform. Nice. Stifle. Stop masturbating. Where are my kids? Blank canvas. My little writing. Encourage to nowhere. Neverending cycle. A living sacrifice. Delight in being broken but not too broken. God, give me strength. I’m starving. Be incessantly likable. Play the part and just behave.
In less than two years, I came out of my shell, but I was exhausted by church and work. My lashes sprouted thanks to eyelash serum. My hair learned to appropriately curl around a flat iron. I grew up with horrible acne as a teen, so I tediously focused on my skin tone and texture. My mother taught me nothing about beauty and skincare, so I started to dabble in retinol around this time. We were experiencing major COVID fatigue, and I was working as a special ed paraeducator. My published writing at this point was still “safe,” but I submitted “A Desired Name,” a piece that delves into my name’s sexy origins and ownership, to a few publications. My husband and I knew we were done leading the church that spring/summer. We formally left in September 2021.2
That summer, I took a few photos in my bedroom, but I decided to be intentional and book myself for a shoot in The Foxhole, my “she shed,” where I served as photographer and model with my tripod and ring light. Before I smartened up down the road and started using a remote clicker, I set a three-second timer for each picture.
I felt weird. A lot of experimentation, slowly learning how killer my eyes were/are and that I prefer my right side. I took about 80 pictures, and the process was long. Around two hours. The most overthinking of my life. I wanted to shrink after each instance of flirting with the camera, but I kept myself propped up, proudly showing off my pectus excavatum, a feature I wrote about later that fall.
Music is imperative. I always start my private concert prior to the photo-taking as I’m doing my makeup to pump me up. My playlists are carefully selected and for this shoot included songs like:
Jamiroquai “Alright” - specifically 3:21-3:51
I need your touch | I want your love so much
Radiohead “Optimistic” - specifically 4:22-4:48
Perfect segment of instrumental fucking music
Zero 7 “Spinning”3 - the whole damn song
Free me from these chains I need to change my way
Heal these broken wings I need to fly far away, far away
I robotically repeated songs and segments of songs. Still, always. I do, in fact, go far away during my shoots. A mental pilgrimage.
Back then, I checked each photo right after I took it (and deleted many). Now, I don’t. I’m faster and take more photos. There’s no hesitation. I still prefer my right side, but I embrace all angles. I cannot miss anything.
In this first session, I see myself as rigid and wanting desperately to exude… something. Longing, perhaps.
Earlier this month, I needed to get some energy and stress out, so in The Foxhole I went:
Some noticeables:
I own three Bluetooth remote clickers, and I always keep one in my purse. I sometimes try to hide the device in pics, but I don’t care anymore.
One hundred and twelve photos in half an hour.
I moved from retinol to tretinoin about a year ago. Woah.
Though I use this activity as a stress reliever, it doesn’t take long for me to own the space with ease. I love choosing Airbnbs with interesting backdrops, but in The Foxhole, simplicity forces me to show up unapologetically, the opposite of the “pick me” persona.
I let you in here. If you breathe or produce sound, I will eat you.
For this recent shoot, my music list included: ANIMA! “Blood,” Darius “Feels Right,” and Lady Gaga’s new song “Disease.”
If you’ve followed me for a while, you know how connected I am to music. Sure, everyone is, I suppose. Maybe I’m not the only one who gets obsessed with a line or instrumental and imagine how the song would feel acted out in intimacy via hips in sync to the rhythm, for example.
This song (or piece of song) would be perfect for being:
Well-thrusted while looking at myself in a mirror.
Pinned up against the wall and lips playing tag, associated with the back and forth of penetration with a locked-in, heavy gaze.
In between a woman’s legs, tongue lapping, and lighting up when her moan is guttural.
There are songs, and slivers of them, that are perfect for such occasions.
The first time sex and music intermingled for me was when I lost my virginity at my boyfriend’s (now husband) dad’s house. Someone, his dad probably, put on Kid Rock (ick) followed by Bad Company’s “Feel Like Makin’ Love.” So damn romantic. His dad obviously knew what we were doing because my boyfriend was told beforehand: “Don’t get any peter stains on the sheets.” Oh, south Georgia, my heart.
There haven’t been too many musical intimacy moments for me aside from my self-care photo shoots. I need to change that.
And that’s what this whole project boils down to. I’m hungry to find out more about why I’m so drawn to the sensual and in what ways. I want to bookmark the process and notice what I missed in the moment. And, of course, this allows me to see how far I’ve come as I push forward as an unashamed provocateur today and in the future.
Next month, a special trip that started with back-to-school shopping and ended up at The Inn at Columbia Point.
I can only imagine the added difficulty in being a trans person with all of these layers and societal expectations. In our sensual pursuits, may we feel inspired and inspire others.
“A Desired Name” is also published in September 2021 in Moonflake Press Magazine. Talk about an exit.
This song is one of my all-time favorites and encapsulates my sexual discovery. Six minutes of deliciously losing and finding myself. It still puts me in a trance.
You are stunningly beautiful in ALL of the photos here, even in the one that you hate.
I know that you're very aware of how people see you and that, in and of itself is alluring but the thing that really makes you so enticing is your words. Physical beauty is wonderful but if there's nothing behind the eyes and if there's no thoughtful intention, it's just pretty pictures.
I really enjoy reading your writing, learning your journey and how you're discovering who and what you are more and more. Thank you for letting us in to your world (at least as much as you feel comfortable and safe sharing)...
Your reflection is an inspiring and powerful testament to self-discovery, autonomy, and the reclamation of your sensuality. It’s incredible to see how you’ve transformed the challenges of your past into a source of empowerment and liberation. By embracing your body, your creativity, and your desires, you’ve cultivated a confidence that radiates not just in your photos but also in your voice as a writer and provocateur.
Your journey from living within the confines of societal and cultural expectations to unapologetically owning your narrative is deeply moving. The way you describe your photo shoots as a “mental pilgrimage” and a form of self-care highlights the beauty in using art and expression to process emotions and connect with oneself.
Thank you for sharing your vulnerability, humor, and passion. You’re creating a space for others to reflect on their own journeys, challenging the stigma around sensuality, and showing that it’s possible to be multifaceted—a commanding sexual goddess, a thoughtful artist, and everything in between. Keep embracing every angle and every song that moves you—you’re lighting a path for others to do the same. 🖤