the cam girl of my dreams

calling all agent provocateurs

freedom is the sweetest thing a woman can have. hope, the most dangerous. money, the most necessary. at 16, i thought feminism was women having the exact same opportunities as men. now, i am less concerned with gaining parity with men and more concerned with gaining freedom from men.

as we are all aware of the importance of female financial independence, i’ll spare you the details. that said, there’s a real conversation to be had concerning the fact that women need money. women thrive on surplus capital. there’s the question of supporting yourself as a human being (pink tax and all). then there’s the habit of maintaining yourself as a fantasy.

there are many who decry that to live in fantasy is a fool’s errands. we, few but proud, diouana women, know that fantasy is fantasy. it exists in the realm where greek nymphs, french courtesans, and biblical whores attend dinner parties where each share their wretched experience existing in the human plane with mortal men.

it’s a curious thing, existing as a real life fantasy. the objectification of one’s essence into a pedestrian dichotomy of madonna-whore. there comes a time when the reality of the situation sinks in. that, to them, you are not a person; you are a moodboard for them to displace their hopes onto. you become a walking id of their repressed desires. in this context, there’s a politeness in giving people exactly what they want. in living up to their fantasy. too bad it’s often the case they’ll end up hating you for it.

however, there is a trick to hatred that few know. there are certain agent provocateurs and long-dead alchemists whose lives have been defined by their mastery of this trick. just for you, i’ll let you in on the secret: all emotion, and especially hatred, is potential energy. in the first law of thermodynamics, it is understood that energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be converted from one form to another. in taking the hatred those who fantasize about us leave at our altars when we do not live up to their agenda, we can transform their potential energy into our kinetic energy. thus, taking back our power. after all, power is power.

it’s easy to get entangled in the fantasies of our spectators. the way they want us to act, be, move, and react. these mind games simply serves as a distraction from the real work of becoming our own fantasy, whatever that may be. it takes real work to understand who, what, how, and why you are. real insights to articulate your unadulterated essence. real guts to become who you aspire to be.

in a world increasingly dominated by the attention economy, it’s a rebellious act to focus solely on yourself. to only be consumed with the pygmalion, almost herculean effort, of becoming. forget the audience of millions, and focus on the audience of one. after all, it’s easy to become a de facto cam girl within the 21st century’s social media surveillance state as the phones have ears and the applications have eyes. don’t take the easy route. where’s the fun in that? where’s the fun in existing in the fantasy of others before you’ve existed in your own fantasy? before you’ve understood what your fantasy even is?

as a diouana woman, i embody my fantasy as a way of life. it is who, what, how, and why i am. although pride is not often appreciated in a woman, i am rather proud of my fantasy. proud that i am the cam girl of my dreams after all. proud to be an agent provocateur.

sweet dreams,

a diouana woman

p.s. truth or dare

i am beginning a new section in my nightly posts titled truth or dare. it’s a simple curated list of ideas and items i’ve engaged with today that i loved and am sharing with you. the truths were 10/10, so i must recommend. and the dares were not so great, so it’s me saying don’t do it. but only if you dare. get it? great. let’s begin:

truth: guerilla marketing.

dare: none.