Becoming me: how rejecting conformity shaped my identity
Words by Bolly Ditz Dolly
@bollyditz.dolly
// Bolly with a box of samosas which feature in her samosa routine!
My very first taste of the outrageous draws back to my introduction to a bushy-moustached man dripping in royalty, shirtless, and wearing a crown as he belted out ‘-I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through’.
Mum was folding up our clothes when I spun around to ask her who this man was. She had a big smile on her face and said, ‘That’s Queen’ and from then on, I believed the Queen of England was Freddie Mercury. Blasphemous? Definitely! But that’s where the Ditz came from.
I wanted to challenge what it meant to be a ‘proper Asian woman’ and how we should behave.
Representation came from our ‘Big Fish, Little Fish, Cardboard-Box’ TV, fluttering from colours to blankness. If it wasn’t Disney films or waiting for the one music video to bring you to life, it was the radio blaring canartic vocals drowning out the sorrows of racism skirting through our streets. Me sitting by the door with pots and pans, drumming out foreign beats, spinning around in mismatched materials and singing out of tune.
For as long as I can remember, I annoyingly celebrated my imperfections before any bully could get a word in. I wanted to challenge what it meant to be a ‘proper Asian woman’ and how we should behave. I remember one of the few times I went to a suit shop; my motto is ‘Whatever’s on offer’ and usually they’d be the brightest salwar kameez, the tightening in the wrong places or mannequin sizes. What struck me most was trying on these beautiful pieces whilst overhearing the shopkeepers say, ‘They won’t fit in that’ or ‘We have no sizes for you’, or better yet, having to pay more for the right size. I couldn’t afford to let these comments sink into me anymore. Of course, I had big boobs, so instead of being the paper doll, I became the talking doll: ‘These are my tits and I think they’re fucking glorious!’.
// The Burly Photographer from House of Burlesque
I stopped feeling guilty for having different tastes, I stopped thinking about the concept of ‘perfect’.
The part you didn’t see is me storming home and throwing myself onto my bed for a quiet cry, only to be woken up by my bedroom mirror. I stood there just staring at myself and what reflected back was every negative thought brought on by others. Was I just a reflection of insecurity and was my light taken advantage of? Should I tear myself apart or the world?
That’s when I looked at my neck, layer upon layer of jumpers and jeans to cover the nightmare - what the fuck was I doing? I owed it to my younger self to enjoy my own company. The image of me was drawn from someone else’s perspective so much so that I couldn’t relate to bus stop adverts and I told myself ‘There’s someone out there like me, brown sheep!’. Maybe we failed a few tests here, wore a sari with the wrong blouse, didn’t nail the pronunciation or became ‘too weird’, but we could learn a lot more if we just sat down and spoke to one another. Slowly but surely, as soon as I stopped feeling guilty for having different tastes, I stopped thinking about the concept of ‘perfect’.
// Mirror selfie from Savage & Sons 2018
But I never would have thought the weekend trips to various cabaret, burlesque, drag events would help me discover myself that extra bit more. As soon as the bra hit the floor, as soon as the belting of a drag performer streamed out, the moment a performer burst into spoken word while revealing, a techno trip leading to a political message making the whole room erupt - I felt complete.
I whipped off my clothes and took another look in the mirror - what could I see? I started at my toes, wiggling them a little and giggling at how cute they were, looked at my stretch marks as tiger stripes, looked at my hairs as stardust, all my creases like silky caramel. Then I saw my face and how much glee it gave me, how I could discover what my boundaries were and what I allowed to show or not show and keep to myself: ‘I’m a bit wonky but that’s ok, I’m ditzy not dumb, I’m beauty and the beast.’
My semi-naked brown body on stage covered in glitter, tits hanging around, haldi-stained dupattas and dip-dyed jewellery - this is my middle finger to all that held me back.
// The Burly Photographer from Invisible Cabaret 2019
That’s the little nudge I needed to be Bolly Ditz Dolly and I wanted to bring the spirit I had in that moment to everyone. I wanted to share that on stage, taking people on the trip that I had when I dotted watching shows. I found myself getting back into the dance classes, absorbing any little information I could all the while gluing a piece of shalwar - little me would never wear - to another piece of something (while trying to not glue my fingers together, but that’s another tale!).
The best part: I felt the pressure of being perfect fade a little because this is where I could find parts of my community. I felt like we all came from a different piece of dupatta, slowly flowing together and it’s amazing to see. If I could give any advice, it would be to take your time; this is why I always say ‘little’ because there’s no rush! Identity comes from what you listened to and what you wear, how you behave and I guess being a balance between very loud and very quiet, vibrant and washed, beauty and beast was where I fit - I couldn’t pigeon myself into one box if laddoos are never perfectly round anyway! My semi-naked brown body on stage covered in glitter, tits hanging around, haldi-stained dupattas and dip-dyed jewellery - this is my middle finger to all that held me back.
About Bolly
Bolly is an award winning Bolly-Burlesque artist based in London. She was queened winner of Burlesque Idol 2019.