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Monthly Archive for September, 2019

From Object to Observer

Bellocq’s Ophelia recounts the fictional tale of Ophelia, a sex worker in the early 1900’s. Ophelia is not only objectified because of her job but because she is a light-skinned black woman. She is seen as one of the “exotic curiosities” (pg. 26) of the brothel for this reason. The men who come to gawk and […]

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In our society, there are a lot of misconceived narratives about sex work which are accepted as fact. If you choose to believe these, you’ll believe that every full service sex worker is in it against their will, too drugged up to fully live, and, perhaps worst of all, ashamed of their profession. While some […]

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Ophelia

“Later, I took arsenic – tablets that I swallowed to keep me fair, bleached white as stone.” – pg. 20  This particular quote struck a chord with me the first time I read it and it still does as I type it. The sentiment that black women are only valid if they have lighter skin […]

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Ophelia on Display

With the constant observation of both male guests and the direction of Countess P, Ophelia becomes less of a person and more of an art piece during her time at the brothel. Countess P instructs the girls to sit still and quietly, stretched out in poses that highlight their figures. Patrons of the brothel can […]

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Bellocq’s Ophelia

In Bellocq’s Ophelia, Violet has high expectations for herself because she was light-skinned and had an education. She cannot find employment, but, she sees “dark maids ambling with their charges” (p.7). She is forced, by having no money and being evicted from her hotel, to take work as a prostitute. She writes,” please do not […]

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In the poem “Countess P-’s Advice for New Girls,” from Natasha Trethewey’s Berlocq’s Ophelia, the head countess of the brothel gives recommendations to girls new to the brothel on how they should act. The girls are told to empty their thoughts, let the man’s gaze animate them before they move, and “wait to be asked […]

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Bellocq’s Ophelia

[…] She calls me Violet now – a common name here in Storyville – except that I am the African Violet for the promise of that wild continent hidden beneath my white skin. At her cue, I walked slowly across the room, paused in strange postures until she called out, Tableau vivant, and I could […]

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