Virgin Territory

‘Virgin Territory’ is a piece I wrote last year that I really felt was speaking out to kids, particularly young girls who feel like they’ve grown up all too soon, y’know we have a bra section for girls aged 8-10 and these bras will be frilly and lacy and quite sexualised, I can’t help but feel that this is something caused by the amount of exposure girls have to the media these days which isn’t healthy, and as a consequence they have been exposed to the adult world far too soon — I made the gif image above the poem (its pretty bad, my first time at making one), and it is a scene from Eva Ionesco’s ‘My Little Princess’. I thought this theme would fit the nature of the poem pretty well, why? Because Eva Ionesco was the daughter of the photographic artist Irina Ionesco (who is by all accounts one of my all-time favourite artists), regardless of the sensitive nature of her daughter Eva’s images which caused quite a stir, she was often made to strip naked for her mother’s work, which many people felt was an exploitation of Eva as a child, even going so far as calling Irina’s images as an embodiment of “child pornography”. I’m in agreement mostly. But at the same time Eva for me was responsible for her mother’s most successful images and as a child model, she was by far the most charismatic and personal to Irina’s work. It was for that reason, simply because they were too personal and too invasive on her daughter’s life and rights, that Irina lost custody of her daughter to the Louboutin family, and Eva eventually grew up alongside the designer Christian Louboutin as their adopted daughter. ‘My Little Princess’ embodies Eva’s story, and as far as I know she was made to grow up all too soon in a world of sex, cigarettes and strange men knocking on the door at night.
This poem was going to be in a little collection that I’m still putting together, probably going to spend the next 5 years doing it, hopefully to publish, but I thought better of it and figured I’d used it for here.

Virgin Territory

I was having sex at 12.

When I’m turned on, it gets lodged in my throat,
Like crying, but I think of it as

A gentleman’s tongue.

Perceive me like a cloudless sky.
But at night know that as a child-woman, I dirty the streets,
Litter it with blowjobs, blowing

Harder than darkness.

Mother talked about my smiles,
She sounded like seashells on mattress beaches,
Wisdom knew, she whispered,

Darling, you’re only 2.

What’s in a number when you’re 12,
And you’ve got handcuffs instead of groovy chick lip gloss,
You enjoy reverse prayer, more than

Opening advent calendars.

You prefer wining and dining,
To collecting posters of boy bands, fangirling over new albums,
You’re eating the world like an oyster.

Bonfire my bed.

Like virgin territory I was spilled,
I wasn’t candid, I was unapologetically beyond “normal little girl”
I put pigtails in my hair,

So he had something to hold onto.

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