One place of shame is where we turn back from the borders of ourselves and lock them down. It's probably possible to write about shame without writing about sex and lust, but I knew that I would feel it was missing, like I was turning away from it.
Two wires intertwine: "What I want is who I am," and "What I want is not who I am." Not just who I am to the person or people* I'm fucking with**, but to other people if they knew. In most cases, they won't know unless I tell them. If I don't tell them, I may wonder if they know, and what they'd think. Like "Buying something is doing something," this has a political dimension, but I want to look first at the turning-back place: I am the person who wants / No no no, I am not that person. Who would I be if I wanted? What would I have to do? How would I have to change, to go beyond the border? How far beyond the border would I have to go?
Shame is obsessed with the kind of person I am. That's what it drools over; that's what it clicks away from.
*As a matter of fact the relationship of "I, Kate Schapira" is monogamous, but the relationship of "I, the example human" might not be. It's tricky.
**I know this expression is usually used to mean "teasing you / lying to you / messing with your mind" and is often preceded by "Not really," but a young friend of mine used it as a synonym for "having sex with". I like the mutuality of it and would like to nudge its meaning in that direction.
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