I started Dickoupage in 2015 around the time I realized I was fed up with everything in my life, including, but not limited to the way men could fire off dick pics without the sweeping judgement of society.
It was a joke. A clever way to switch roles with men. I didn’t ask, but I demanded their dick pics so I could pair them with an essay, short story, poem, rant or essentially, whatever-the-hell I came up with that almost always had nothing to do with the dick pic.
I wanted to mock men, but ended up finding a certain level of compassion, not just for them, but for myself. It didn’t happen all at once. Collecting all those dick pics definitely afforded me a certain sort of sexual power. Especially, when I started charging men who’d pester me to post their photos when I either didn’t want to or didn’t have time to. There was also a short time when I ran a small time con creepily similar to Catholic indulgences, where people paid the pope to forgive them for their sins, to forgive men for their crimes against women…for a fee.
If I thought it was how a man would run things, if it lacked a certain humanity and especially if it force-played men into taking the submissive, female role–I’d do it. I started catcalling dudes from the comfort of my car. I begun cutting men off and explaining to them whatever it was they were talking about cause I was sick of hearing them talk. I was slowly, but surely becoming a man. Not in the physical sense, but in terms of expressing myself with the ease and liberty of someone who has never had to worry about having their power taken away.
And. I. FUCKING. LOVED. IT.
I know why white men want to oppress everyone and sit up on their throne looking down on us plebeians in hell. It’s fucking great. People bow to your unchecked sense of authority. They want your approval because gaining your favor means they’re not apart of the rest of society down at the base of shit mountain.
Collecting dick pics from men is easy. It’s easier when you signup for all the dating apps and ask for dick pics, point blank, in your profile. I explained my project and said that anyone interested could send a dick pic to dickoupage at gmail dot com. Most guys would just send a dick pic. Some would match with me and want to talk about it. Other guys wanted to tell me I was a disgusting peddler of smut. I just wanted dick pics so I could move on with my project.
After I got banned from Tindr and kicked off of OkCupid, I was getting pretty tired of the game. I was still on Bumble, but for how long? Men really hated the paradigm shift I was forcing upon them. They’d send a dick pic and I’d move on with my life. They’d send a follow up e-mail. I’d ignore it. It was a very mystical dance that only the powerful can perform. And then I matched with a very hot dude named Christian on Bumble. Immediately, he was Mr. Charming Pants. He had the boyish panache of Adam Brody but the 12-pack of member of Fight Club. He wanted to send me a dick pic, but he also wanted to know what I thought of it.
I groaned, explaining to him, it’s not in the nature of the project for me to give an opinion of his dick, but if he would send me $30 dollars via PayPal I would happily oblige him. This was my work and that gave my opinion a value,. Otherwise, he should send it to whomever-the-fuck would do it to stroke his ego. He sent the pic anyways. I did not review it.
If we are being honest, his body was beautiful. He looked like a goddamn Greek god walking around Los Angeles, but his dick was average. So average it wasn’t worth responding to him, so I unmatched him on Bumble. A few hours later, I got a subsequent e-mail from him telling me that I was no better than a man. That I was using him to feel better about himself. He ended the message telling me he forbid me to use his image and cursed me to hell.
It was then that I came to understand the complex nature of the privilege afforded a man. Their fragile ego coddled by the power afforded the owner of a dick. Yet there I was, in charge of his self worth, and toying with it as though I were the man. That was the day I realized that The Dickoupage Project had to end or it had to evolve. I didn’t want to be a man. I didn’t want to be known as a person who tortures men (even if I’m guilty of doing it and may do it again at some point).
I wanted to be someone known for helping women and people of color and the disabled and the disenfranchised and the ill. I wanted to exemplify intersectional feminism, telling stories you can’t always find in mainstream media. Most of all, I wanted to help people like me find the power in their own voice and now I can do just that.
If you’re looking for the dick pics, you can find them at Dickoupage Project.
*The “Love Trumps Hate” tees can be found on KiddBell for $5. Get them while they last!