Text & Photos by
Caroline Desilets
I don’t want to separate ever again. From the day I was born, from the day my dad denied he was my dad, from the day I broke what was the closest to a family I’ve ever had – I can’t handle it, I won’t survive another split.

Except for the split within myself, the one that is necessary for survival. For the me that used to be me to continue being.

In my bed: one night a mother, one night a sex being. The proximity is too weird to talk about.

Kid in bed, lover on floor, me above looking at them with the same lens and different intentions. Trying to push those intentions away from each other yet they are a part of the same body, part of the same person. My person. Trying on ways to intertwine and cherish all of it together.

Watch Me Dad, Watch Me is sexuality and maternity coexisting, an exploration of the insatiable desire to be loved. It is a representation of the gulf between the unexciting parent who grows aware of becoming forgotten, whose degraded sense of self-worth makes them into an invisible, middle-aged, sexless female, and between the self who is bathed in attention, who finds ways to revive and reclaim the sex body, who steals some pure stamina by physically connecting with whoever wants her body for anything other than its motherly and loving warmth.

Welcome to the intimate life of a single mother, under the gazes of her child and lovers. Getting validation from seduction as a confirmation of her worth.

There is no place to talk about your kid and your sexuality. And yet we have to make a soft bridge between both. We have to please both sides of us. Never at the same time, same place. But we still need both.

Watch Me Dad, Watch Me is the taboo of having desires when you are a mother. It is the complexity of intimate relationships in all their shapes. It is a space where the unconditional love between parent and child confronts the doubts and excitement of other relationships.

Love me fucker.

Rat Chat Magazine