There is nothing more basic to the fabric of self than sexuality. It is all around us. Much more than just a cloak to take on and off, it clothes our bones laid bare and is woven into our identities. And yet the expression of such is not always easy. For those of us whose colors are chosen from something other than the “traditional” palate, systems of oppression are in place to smear our artistry and clip our wings. Until one steps forward to proudly don their colors and display their patterns, there is the risk of being held down like a bird kept from flight.
In China, “birdman” is a negative term meaning silly and foolish. Here the birdmen hold stiff and proud in their presence, drawing strength from the refusal to be defined by another.