Hey love. So, uh, what turns you on?
I’ve been reading a lot of mile-high club pr0n.
[inserts link of a white man/Asian flight attendant fucking in a plane]

Performance Documentation, 2021

Do you ever masturbate?
Is sex before marriage, like, a taboo in your house?
I really want to find a sub to peg…

Hey. So I hve a question…whats ur bra size??

Oh wow is that normal for an Asian grl?

Have you ever been punched in the boob? It sucks.

(Don’t get me started on how much getting hit in the vagina hurts.) If you’ve ever punched someone in the boob–I’m talking to you Matt Gilbert–you’re a jerk. It’s a cheap shot, a ‘low’-blow. Don’t do that shit.

You’re just so cute and shy, I really wanna cuddle with you.
I miss holding my ex after we’d finish up a night of bondage fucking to NIN.

What if it was just for a minute, would you let me?

Have you tried this Jackpot no hands thing?
[sends audio file]
You should try it. It really works... o///o

:shark: I miss you…
thinking about you in that corset you made…rawr.

You’re like the cross-section of smart Asian, cool Asian, and hot Asian, haha!

Let’s have another sleepover soon…
I’m willing to make the drive to see you!

Reflecting on existing in a body that doesn’t quite fit, and not only living in a female body, but a female Asian body – I’ve been working through gender and racial performativity in the everyday disempowered action of becoming smaller, staying quiet, head down, take it, take it, and what that does to a person.

The result is this meticulous and physical process, knees on the asphalt hyper-awareness of my movements that affects the material and produces an artifact.

Grabbing the binder and a shirt, I headed to the vanity mirror. I struggled to pull the tight spandex over my shoulders. My face flushed as I tried to yank it down over my boobs. Eventually, I wriggled it over my protruding chest and brought the rest of the material down over my stomach. Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the stiff material over my flesh until it didn’t look so lumpy.

I inspected the shape of myself, nodded in satisfaction, then slipped the soft cotton shirt over my head. As my eyes emerged from the dark grey of my boyfriend's shirt, I looked again. I turned to the side, my hand came up to pat my chest, and then—I felt a painful whoosh up my nose and my vision blurred. My lungs started to shake as I gazed at the mirror.

Watching the tears roll down, I laughed, teeth shining back at me.

“You should have known.” The reflection said.

“I should have known.” I squeezed out. The binder squeezed back.

Is it tender or painful? No.

Nipple discharge? No.

Redness, warmth? No.

Lots of little lumps? No.

Okay, probably not a cyst then.

What about Breast Cancer?

Hard or firm lump? Yes.

No pain? Yes.

Uh oh.