Foreplay

This body of work was made in April and May 2020. During this period, I lived by myself in a dorm building in south-west London. With the lack of human contact—being deprived of even a handshake or a hug—my skin started rebelling against its seclusion. To combat these feelings, I tried to find an intimate and romantic relationship with a man using dating apps like Hinge and Bumble, to help me relieve some of the anxiety of being alone while in lockdown.

Sexting and cybersex is a form of sexual arousal using computer technology, and within that world, dating apps have seen an amazing growth worldwide recently: during lockdown, Tinder reported their busiest day to date, with more than 3 billion swipes globally, and Hinge reported a 30% increase in users. As we are currently confined to our homes, the only way for those living alone to have sex is through mobile phones. On 20 April 2020 The Guardian published an article about how, during lockdown, “thirst traps and nudes are not only making a glorious, unrepentant comeback, but are now a form of emboldened agency in Gen Z’s blossoming sexual liberation”. I decided to download Hinge and build my profile. With a lot of time on my hands, I was fully invested in the task of finding companionship.

In Mexico, where I come from, it is a cultural norm to kiss hello when you arrive at a party. These customs are sometimes are not well received, however, since sexual harassment and femicide is a constant in the country. According to a study published by the UN, seven women are killed in Mexico every day, of which four are sexually violated. Using pejorative sexual terms and body shaming when talking about a woman seems to be the norm: for example, in February 2020, media organisations in Mexico published an image of the dead body of Ingrid Escamilla, who was killed by her partner. The tabloid Pásala ran it on their Monday cover with the headline “It was Cupid’s fault”. Women are constantly blamed for their sexuality.

I printed a zine, with dimensions 170 x 250 mm, on 55 gsm paper. Through the pages, I share my interaction with desire: I engage in conversation with my online dates and then take self-portraits using Polaroid and Instax cameras. Quarantine not only encourages, but forces, sexual exploration, experimenting with nudes, and sexting for sexual satisfaction. Using this process, I was able to reconnect with my sensuality and with own my body, and to feel beautiful in my own eyes. The Polaroids were never part of the imagery I shared with my dates—I kept them for me, to understand my personal sexiness, and feel proud of it. I know there are women outside who wish to explore their bodies without being shamed. Doing work related to female sexuality is something I would not have even thought about back home, but now, living in London, I feel ownership and safety, with the creative space to talk about it freely, which I have never experienced before. I don’t want to be ashamed; I know I can’t be the only one.