The Burr

story by Denise Wright :: photos by Adam Harris :: styling by Caitlin Saniga and Sarah Steimer

I was topless in a recording studio, and there were two guys I didn’t know mixing music in the booth — but also watching me, I was sure. Yet, the sporadic reminder of that took a backseat when my photographer pointed out that I was covering my boobs too much.

I regained my focus, repositioning my arms and changing my facial expression. I could deal with strangers seeing me naked; I couldn’t deal with not getting good shots.

I was shooting my third photo set for SuicideGirls.com, a nude pinup Web site for alternative girls with tattoos and body modifications. The set features me in a recording studio, seemingly writing and laying down songs — my favorite pastime.

This just had to be the set to make me “go pink.” Going pink on the site meant dropping my unpaid status as a hopeful and becoming an official Suicide Girl — one of 31 in Ohio. Suicide Girls receive $500 per accepted set. And while “Songwriter’s Showcase” hasn’t done that for me yet, I feel like I’m nearing that possibility. As of Oct. 1, the set had drawn nearly 500 comments after being up for just over a week. My first two sets, which had been up for months, were closer to 400.

I’ve wanted to become an SG for a year now. With my natural brown hair and lack of facial piercings, people probably wouldn’t describe me as “alternative.” But sometimes I prefer it stays that way. During meetings, I can wear a long-sleeved shirt or a bracelet to cover up the word “love” that’s tattooed on my wrist. The only time someone sees the tattoo on my side is when I’m wearing a bathing suit.

Aside from my appearance, I’m demure in every sense of the word. I’m shy when I meet new people, and I dress conservatively, so most people would never guess I’m a nude model in my free time. To be honest, I never would have guessed I’d end up here, either.

Life before Suicide Girls

I grew up in a rather conservative home, and while my immediate family wasn’t too spiritual, I found comfort in my own faith. I attended weekly services with a close friend’s family. I went to youth retreats and conventions. I was an active member of my youth group’s drama team.

You could probably wager that, given my involvement in church activities during high school, I would have continued my spiritual walk during college. I always thought I would, too — until I was raped in Fall 2006, my first semester of college. I can’t claim that the experience completely tore me away from my religion — I mean, among other factors, there was always meeting new people who were different from the friends I’d clung to in high school. But it definitely played a huge part in my fallout with spirituality.

I’d once been told that I lit up when I talked about my faith. It used to be something that was important to me, something that made me happy. But gradually, those smiles went away and were replaced with bitterness toward my faith. It was difficult to believe in a God who I felt led me astray.

At the time, I figured that because God wouldn’t take control of my life, I would do it myself. I did so by first taking control of my sexuality, gradually selecting new partners and developing a side of myself I never really knew. By the time I began dating my second boyfriend in January 2008, I had only “been with” a few people, but I felt like I had a great deal of sexual prowess. Ultimately, that sexual development became something I took pride in.

Change of pace

Fast-forward to 2009: My nearly yearlong relationship just ended, and I was moving into a new apartment near campus because I had been living with my boyfriend. Before my roommate moved in, I spent my first few weeks alone in the apartment — usually watching sappy movies that left me crying and feeling worse about myself.

I was ashamed that I had allowed myself to mope around for weeks. I’ve heard that some women get haircuts after a breakup — a semi-drastic change in their appearance that allows them to feel better about themselves. But that wasn’t going to be enough for me.

I needed a change in my lifestyle. That’s when I remembered a friend mentioning she wanted to model for Suicide Girls about six months prior to my breakup. At the time, I was familiar with
SuicideGirls.com and had seen some of the girls in magazines such as Prick. I investigated the site myself. I realized modeling for the site would give me the chance to express my sexual and creative sides.

Ultimately, my friend and I decided that applying would be a fun project to do together. During car rides to the mall, we would brainstorm ideas for sets, usually stealing ideas we’d seen on “America’s Next Top Model.” Although we were both excited about the opportunity, we were dating people who weren’t big fans of their “model” girlfriends posing nude and getting attention from other guys. So neither of us pursued it.

I buried the idea in my mind, occasionally revisiting it near the end of my relationship when my boyfriend and I were having problems. Once I was single, I needed to take advantage of my newfound freedom. And because I just got my first tattoo, the timing was perfect to apply for the site.

A new face in the community

I decided the word “love” on my wrist wasn’t enough to appeal to the audience and I was itching for a new tattoo anyway, so I got “desastre bella” tattooed on my side. Meaning “beautiful disaster,” the tattoo reminds me of one of my favorite Jon McLaughlin songs. Now that I looked a little less like the girl next door, I sent in my application and, without looking back, shot my first set with a photographer friend.

I wanted to do an auto-shop theme, so my photographer got permission to shoot at a garage in Akron. We met up on a cold Sunday in January. While taking off my clothes in front of a married man was a little disconcerting, I was more concerned with getting good shots. The shop was freezing, and I was in a rush to put my sweatpants back on, but I stopped every now and then to see the frames, adjusting poses and expressions as I went. It wasn’t an ideal shooting situation, but I had a good idea of what I needed to work on in the future, and we both felt like we’d gotten some great shots. He prepped them, and within two days, I submitted them to the site.

I wasn’t expecting much, as the site receives more than 1,000 applications from new models every week. Yet, within two weeks of submitting my photos, I received the following response: “Congratulations, your set has been accepted … and you have been given a free one-year account! … Thanks for sending us your set, we are excited to have you as a member of our community! xoxo, Model Coordinator.”

On April 10, about two months later, I was officially welcomed into the community when my set went up on the site. At the time, I was absorbed in working on a class assignment. When I logged on two hours later, I was surprised to see how many people had looked at my photos. That day, I also drew in more than 200 friend requests and several messages from guys offering to cook me dinner, draw my portrait and, of course, shoot my next set.

Dual roles and addiction

I spent the following week looking forward to promoting my set on my friend’s radio show. I hadn’t even told him I was a model on the site, but he sent me a message indicating he was a member of SuicideGirls.com and was surprised, yet impressed, when he saw my photos. As a DJ for a Cleveland radio station, he wanted to have me on his show to promote my set. And while I began to wonder how many more of my friends might be members who would stumble across the set, I gladly accepted the free promotion.

The show went smoothly — aside from my worrying about listeners recognizing me by something I said. I was glad that the hat I’d worn that day made it difficult to recognize me on the webcam. But those worries began to disappear. The show’s producers read listeners’ messages about how cute I was, and the employees at the station wandered in to introduce themselves, commenting on my sexy skinny-jeans-and-boots ensemble. One of the station managers even gave me a set of animal-print lamps I’d seen and fallen in love with. I genuinely felt like a celebrity. And even though I wanted to hang out after the show, I had to rush back to Kent to make an advising appointment for scheduling next semester’s classes.

That same day, I contacted my photographer about working on a second set. It was less than a week since the first one had posted, and I was strapped for money. But above all, the comments were dying down. I hated to admit it, but I was craving the attention.

Putting on a show for the rest of the world

That Saturday, I got a new tattoo: a series of blue stars trailing down my neck, accented in orange. I went to a toga party that evening and received compliments on the piece. I couldn’t help but think how great it would look in my next set.

The next day, I went into my job at a local gas station. During my shift, my worst nightmare came true. One of my co-workers revealed that he was a member of SuicideGirls.com and had seen me. He proceeded to ask why I was on the site, where I’d gotten my set idea, what projects I was working on and everything in between. When my shift was up, I darted into the office to clock out, relieved to escape the question-and-answer session.

Shortly after getting home, my mom called, saying she’d seen my newest tattoo, courtesy of a picture I had sent to my little sister’s phone. I wasn’t surprised when my conservative mom expressed her disapproval. I should have expected that after I nearly ruined Christmas by revealing my wrist tattoo.

Does my mom know that I pose nude online? Well, I looked into setting up a post office box for when I went home that summer so my mom would never see any paychecks that might come from SG. I would only tell her if I had a death wish.

Nevertheless, I still participated in the site after the spring semester by writing blogs and submitting my songwriting set in early August.

The show goes on

I wanted to shoot a multi-set — a set with another model — so after the third set went up Sept. 22, I began to seriously explore the option.

On Sept. 26, however, I thought those plans might get cut short. That was the day my boyfriend asked me out. I already told him about the site, and he said he was OK with it as long as I was faithful. He even seemed proud that he was entitled to some “bragging rights.”

But where was the cutoff on that? Did fooling around with another girl for a photo shoot constitute cheating on him? We talked about it, and again, he went along with it, joking that he would only do so if he could watch the shoot. Although I would give my boyfriend priority over my work any day, I was glad my relationship fit in just fine with my side project.

Meanwhile, my birthday was coming up, so I was playing with the idea of treating myself to a Monroe facial piercing and one, maybe two, more tattoos. I had wanted a side piece for months, but I didn’t know how much longer I could keep hiding behind the “tattoos are addicting” excuse. I knew most of my addiction actually came from the compliments I received when I got naked to show off each new piece. And I knew that, with each bigger piece, I would increase my chances of being recognized by my tattoos.

So why do I do it?

Do I enjoy feeling like I put on a show for the rest of the world? Not so much. It becomes increasingly difficult to keep track of who knows what, and I have a feeling it’s going to be more difficult to keep my double life under wraps with a pseudonym that can be found on Google. Alexa.com lists SuicideGirls.com in the top 1 percent of Web sites generating consistent, unique user traffic, so that probably wouldn’t make it any easier.

Maybe it’s because I like being in front of the camera. Up until my first set, I actually hated having my pictures taken. High school senior portraits were a serious pain for me. But I admit photo shoots make me feel special now. I love the attention that comes with people playing with my hair, tugging on my clothes and telling me they loved my last pose. I also love feeling like I’m becoming a better model, which is reaffirmed by the comments I got on my latest set, including: “You’re going from good, to quite good, to particularly great. Songwriter’s is intense!” Who wouldn’t want to read flattering comments like that?

But the deal-sealer for me is how friendly a lot of the SGs are. I was sold when I met my favorite SG, Radeo, and a few others at the Columbus Hell City tattoo convention in May. The girls were really encouraging, giving me tips on how to amp up my sets.

Most of my friends are guys, so I’m really jealous of how closely knit the girls seem. I want to be part of that bond more than anything. Every girl I met that day seemed to have that “thing,” that special quality that gives you stars in your eyes. Essentially, they’re famous — the celebrities of the alternative realm.

So I want to be famous? I don’t think that’s it, either. I actually get weirded out when people I haven’t told ask me about my involvement with SG. And although I like talking about it, I’d rather have money than be famous, and it’s not like Suicide Girls is bringing in any cash for me right now. If anything, it could prevent me from getting a job in the professional world, which I’ve taken into consideration.

Honestly, I can’t really put my finger on exactly why I like modeling for SG or even how long I’ll do it. There are girls on the site who are 30 and have kids. I don’t think I’ll want to do it by that point in my life, but who knows? All I know is that I’m having fun right now.