And now for something else
In my research I've come across many aspects of the Takarazuka lifestyle, but there are things that fascinate me beyond what books and articles can provide.
So, feeling angsty one day, I ended up writing this...I don't know what to call it...maybe fanfiction. It's not meant to be taken as a commentary on the theatre or anything - just a long day, and a fascination with the other side of Takarazuka.
I twirl in endless swathes of velvet and countless plumes. The star shines brighter than ever above my head. In day time my mind is focused on being a man. Dance like a man, walk like a man, talk like a man, think like a man. My body belongs to the stage. Why can it not be loved as it is?
It dances like a man - an empty puppet at the end of the string awaiting the cheers of fans to fill her with life. The cheers always fade too soon. It's a puppet more than it is anything else.
I consecrate my voice, my hands, my hair, my eyes...everything to the stage. Everything to perform. Myself. My body. Everything to the stage. My femininity. The lines blur further.
I walk like a man, talk like a man, but I am a woman. Am I a woman? I'm meant to only play a man but off stage the man comes along anyway. He is adventurous and wild and untamed. Boxed inside a kimono.
They call this freedom.
So, feeling angsty one day, I ended up writing this...I don't know what to call it...maybe fanfiction. It's not meant to be taken as a commentary on the theatre or anything - just a long day, and a fascination with the other side of Takarazuka.
I twirl in endless swathes of velvet and countless plumes. The star shines brighter than ever above my head. In day time my mind is focused on being a man. Dance like a man, walk like a man, talk like a man, think like a man. My body belongs to the stage. Why can it not be loved as it is?
It dances like a man - an empty puppet at the end of the string awaiting the cheers of fans to fill her with life. The cheers always fade too soon. It's a puppet more than it is anything else.
I consecrate my voice, my hands, my hair, my eyes...everything to the stage. Everything to perform. Myself. My body. Everything to the stage. My femininity. The lines blur further.
I walk like a man, talk like a man, but I am a woman. Am I a woman? I'm meant to only play a man but off stage the man comes along anyway. He is adventurous and wild and untamed. Boxed inside a kimono.
They call this freedom.