Lea Jinks

RS: In what ways have you experienced touch, or how has touch changed for you through the pandemic?
LJ: Touch was my #1 love language. It was how I communicated to people that I valued and appreciated them. With the forced isolation and more time for self-inquiry during the pandemic, I discovered I’m autistic, and that I actually don’t enjoy a lot of touch because it’s overstimulating and draining for me. I felt like I *had* to touch my loved ones because I’m usually very quiet, and a lot of previous partners misinterpret that as a lack of interest in them. Touching became a codependent habit for me to communicate my feelings. Now I’m figuring out new ways to show my love.


RS: How do you define and or understand resilience as it relates to owning an identity that is marginalized?
LJ: I feel like I’m completely relearning how to exist since my autism diagnosis. I used to be resilient by getting up every day and going to work and socializing, all the while managing to do “successfully” only because I put a significant amount of effort into masking - that is, coming off as a “normal” human who excels in the structure of our society. I was always exhausted, drank a ton of alcohol to cope, and still always felt like something was off about me. I think my new resilience will be existing as myself without trying to appear “normal”, and overcoming the rejection and discrimination that comes along with that.


RS: How does Austin play a role in your experience of touch and or resiliency?
LJ: Austin has been incredibly healing for me. I’ve met so many other queer and neurodivergent people here that make me confident in being myself. 


RS: What was your experience in creating your skin prints? I didn’t have a strong emotional response to it.
LJ: The parts I used for prints are often topics of conversation with strangers who see my scars and ask “what IS that??” Making the prints felt like one of those conversations.


RS: Where on your body did you choose to create your prints from? Why were/are these spots important to you?
LJ: I made prints of two of my scarification pieces. Each one was cut into my skin with scalpels by professional body modification artists. One of the pieces is on my abdomen, and I got it to mark a period of evolution in my life. There are definitely parallels between that personal growth and the long, painful healing process of this scar.

The other print is a scar piece on my leg, that was done over many years worth of faded self harm scars. I suppose it’s a reminder that things get better.


RS: Is there anything else you’d like to share about your story?
LJ: I have a special relationship with my skin, which has been the catalyst for many human connections and my own personal growth. Through self harm, sex, cuddling, flesh hook suspension, and consensual kink, my skin has been the unwavering bridge between my own and other consciousnesses.