Diamonds in the Rough

Curated by Hayley Pigram 

Even when our power and beauty go unseen in plain sight,

we shine as jewels.

We are diamonds that hold strength

and will not shatter like glass in the face of pressure. 

We are diamonds, strong, powerful and fabulous. 

Shine Bright.

Ella Noah Bancroft

Yoni Dreaming 

Embedded in the cells of my vagina, are the memories of my ancestors. 

Matriarchal society stolen. 

My Jinggar holds onto memories, like the pages of a diary. 

Stored stories of rape and destruction of culture.

Stories of violence. 

Stories of silence.

My Indigenous blood screams. 

Fuck the church, the coloniser and the queen 

and all of the oppressive systems. 

My Jinggar will not be domesticated, she will not be colonised and there will be no 

flag penetrated upon her for ownership. 

The Scottish, English and Indigenous blood fight within the veins of my existence.

Which identity fits best? 

Patriarchy pains live deep inside my womb.

No wonder there is not room for a man.

My black great grandmother sold as slave. 

Slave to the men, that stole her land and killed her mother 

Trauma. 

My white Grandmother on my fathers side, died by her own hand. 

Manic Depressive.

Isolated on her husbands land. 

Disconnection. 

The safety created from relating with women has healed her, has healed me.  

As a baby I crawled on the ground, naked, exploring innocent touch.

Until I become old enough, the outside world told me she was too much. 

Put her away,

Don’t play like that with your other friends. 

As I grew into her, Shame arose, 

At seven I was in heaven with my best friend,

as we rolled around in youthful play.

Caught.

Stay away.

Banned from seeing each other. 

Shame. 

At thirteen I screamed at the sight of blood.

A bloody Mess.

I hated that I always had to check the back of my school dress.

When she bled, I was distressed, frustration and sometimes

even depressed. 

I was told nothing about my magic, my sex, my blood.

Dirty.

Shame. 

Unclean. 

At fifteen Porn poured into my world, as I witness young girls on their back screaming while being jack hammered. 

Is there something wrong with me, with her? 

All the images I see are of pretty, pink, white, tight pussys. 

hairless. 

Just like prepubescent little girls. 

Control. 

The echo of my friends voices played out in my mind.

You will never find a boyfriend if you're hairy.

Get her waxed.

Gross.

Hair is disgusting.

Okay. 

Brazillian.

Fifteen to twenty three.

I poured piping hot wax on my pussy.

Once a month at $50 an appointment,  

Thats $4800.

We don’t even have equal pay but younger me paid to conform to societies views on womens beauty and our body. 

When I rejected her, I rejected my sexuality, I rejected my home. 

Silenced.

Don’t be alone with him.

I slept with many men when I was young.

But I never come. 

If he doesn’t met her,

if he doesn’t love her,

he cannot enter.
Men, they think they know vaginas cause they occasionally put their penis inside. Its like me saying I am a pilot cause I have flown on a plane.  

Here's a hint, they are not all the same.

Imagine them like safes.

The same code will not open them all. 

Your skirt is too short, you will attract unwanted attention. 

Don't be sexy, your sensuality can make you an outcast.

Sixteen.

Fast Sex.

1, 2, 3 minutes.

He’s finished.

He just could never go the distance. 

Even when he was giving me head,

he said

“Shhhhhh, don’t scream, you sounds like a demon”

Past memory of a former life when I was demonised for my sexual desires. 

"Witch, throw her on the fire"

In my twenties I reclaimed my power.

My rebellious attitude began to grow. 

So did my pubes.

As I realised. I am not a well-raised woman.

She is the wild woman, She is the one I talk of in all my stories. I know the way we have tried to domesticate our women, is the same way we have tried to tame our vulvas. 

At 20 I was kissed by a woman.

She melted. 

She dripped.

Liberated, we played around licking each other for hours. 

I love making love to women, the way our bodies move in slow and fast motion, 

like the tides of the ocean.

Wet. 

My lover dancers on my skin.

She activates my warrior deep within. 

My Jinggar is a fucking wild beast, she knows what she wants and around women she leaks.

Why? Because she trusts them.

And its just not the same with men. 

She has zero tolerancy when a man tries to dick-tate what is best for her. 

Stored in her fleshy cave of my yoni are the passed rapes by men in my ancestral line. 

She is brown, purple and pink. 

She comes from strong women, 

Respect the Matriarchy. 

Oppressed, not her, not I.
She is a Descendant of the survivors  

Empowered in her wildness 

here my voice 

My body, my vagina, my choice 

    Hayley Pigram

    Healing

    Acrylic on Canvas (Series of 10)

    31 x 31cm (x10)

    $1,500

    Peta-Joy Williams

    You can't have rainbows without rain

    Mixed Media on Canvas

    51 x 41cm

    $650

Luke Close

Mono Prints Series

Mono Prints (Series of 8)

36.5 x 27cm (x8)

$1,000 for set

Jai Walker

LOVE WON (One)

Coloured Pencil on Black Gesso

180.5 x 74.5cm

$5,000

Thank you for virtually attending Diamonds in the Rough. Your support is appreciated!

Artworks are available for sale. If you are interested in purchasing an artwork please email us at boomalliartgallery@gmail.com

Artwork photography by Sharon Hickey