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    Amid the Mountains, They Can Be ‘Open Without Being Judged’

    In a cabin in the Rocky Mountains, a murmur began to build like the jungle cacophony it was intended to mimic. It was the final afternoon of the four-day Camp Realize Your Beauty, and the nine campers were repeating the social media and popular culture messages about perfection that they felt bombarded by in their daily lives.Their words would ring familiar to anyone who has ever felt the pinch of culturally lauded beauty standards: “Thigh gaps.” “Hourglass figure.” “No acne.” “Pores.” “No body hair.”A video helped explain the deceptive nature of photoshopping, which is widespread in images on social media.Starr Kirkland, an actor, teacher and longtime Realize Your Beauty facilitator, reminded the campers to keep repeating their phrase as the group’s chant of shoddy messaging crescendoed. The soundscape would be part of a devised video piece that was shared with their families after the weekend-long camp, which ran July 27-30. “We’re all going to say our themes at the same time,” another counselor told them. “Why? To create that overwhelming feeling.”The overload of images and muddy information that kids and adolescents receive about their bodies, particularly from social media, was among the reasons Stacey Lorin Merkl said she created Realize Your Beauty, a nonprofit based in New York City, in 2010. The goal: to blend theater, traditional camp offerings and empowerment workshops to help the children build self-esteem. In 2016, she started the theater-arts camp where “self-esteem takes center stage” (the organization’s tagline) at the Y.M.C.A. of the Rockies in Colorado, partly because that’s where she grew up, where she studied acting (at the University of Northern Colorado) and where her parents still reside. It’s also stunning.The campers were encouraged to “embrace the cringe” and to make new friends.Shelby Knowles for The New York TimesRealize Your Beauty isn’t packed with aspiring Audra McDonalds, Billy Porters and Sutton Fosters. At least not exclusively. “It’s not theater kids, necessarily,” Merkl said over coffee a few days before camp began. “Some of the kids love theater. Some of them are maybe mildly interested. Some of them are totally new to the theater, but their parents think that they could benefit from this. We are doing theater, but this is not a camp for them to come and learn Shakespeare.”Elise Arndt, a veteran theater camp counselor who flew in from Orange County, Calif., said: “Not all of them are going to be gung-ho theater people. But there’s something about it that intrigues them.” Arndt and Kirkland joined Realize Your Beauty early on, performing in the workshops and plays about body positivity and eating disorder awareness that the organization takes to schools in New York City, as well as to the Girl Scouts of America.Improvised games not only helped the campers and counselors warm up for activities but also reiterated that they are in a safe and playful space to be themselves.At the camp, the voice work, breathing exercises and improvisation games Arndt leads with — staples at many performing arts sleepaway camps — are tools for erecting safe and playful spaces for the campers to be themselves, even if they are still figuring out just who that person might be.On the first day, Kirkland, who proved to be something of a joy whisperer, advised them to “embrace the cringe,” to make new friends, to form “silly-ships.” Sitting in a circle, the campers, all from Colorado this year, shared their takeaways from the first acting exercises — which included an improvised bit in which a spoiling piece of sushi at a bus stop asked a woman to give up her seat.Time was set aside each day for them to write in their journals.“Even if it makes me feel a little silly, it makes other people laugh,” said Bella, 11.Emma, 10, one half of that maki roll, said, “I learned that we could pretend to be anything, even a piece of sushi.” And the shy Anna, 12, who had been encouraged by Riley, 14, and Bella, said in the quietest of voices: “I learned that it’s good to make new friends.”And even in a space where body positivity is the aim and self-kindness the mantra, hiccups can occur. For a breath-work exercise, Arndt asked the campers to lie down on their backs. “I feel fat laying down,” said Ava, 14, resting on the cabin’s carpeted floor.Not missing a beat, Arndt responded: “You do not look fat laying down. That is not Realize Your Beauty, right?”Warm-up drills included a series of games and skits. “We are doing theater, but this is not a camp for them to come and learn Shakespeare,” said Stacey Lorin Merkl, the camp’s founder and executive director.Shelby Knowles for The New York Times“You look like a person laying down,” a fellow camper added.“Take a big inhale through your stomach,” Arndt said, returning to the breathing. “All bodies are beautiful. Also, we literally made up fat. We made it up as a human race. Take a big inhale, take a big exhale.”Instead of putting on a show for the parents at the weekend’s conclusion, the campers and the staff worked on a video piece composed of journal entries, artwork and, of course, a song: This year’s was Miley Cyrus’s empowerment ballad “The Climb.” (“The struggles I’m facing/The chances I’m taking/Sometimes might knock me down, but/No, I’m not breaking,” the song goes.) They needed those big breaths.During a nature walk, the kids gathered materials for self-portraits.After dinner, the sisters Mia and Macie sat at a table, sharing impressions about the camp.“I always come back from camp just happy, unlike school,” said Mia, 14, who sometimes appeared to be hiding behind her long, straightened hair. This was her second year at Realize Your Beauty. “I just think that this camp is very fun — and I love meeting new people — but I think it’s also a camp where you could come, and you could be very open without being judged.”Teary goodbyes at the weekend’s end.Shelby Knowles for The New York TimesMacie, 10, boasting an Afro and talking in a high-pitched chirp, chimed in with an idea. “I think that there should be camp for the younger kids like this. Because when you have an open space like this when you’re younger,” she said, “you probably won’t be as mean as most people.”Over the span of the weekend, but even hour by hour, came hints of new self-awareness, arcs of subtle personal triumph. “I feel like the best part of the experience is definitely from the campers themselves,” said the first-time counselor June Dempsey, a 16-year-old theater kid and ballet dancer. “I’m loving watching their growth, and I’m already seeing it. People are building confidence.”The campers share cabins at the Y.M.C.A. of the Rockies in Estes Park, Colo.Among the teary goodbyes, one stood out. “Anna came up to me to say goodbye. And as soon as she came up, she just burst into tears,” Kirkland, tearing up, recalled during a video call after returning to her home in San Diego.“It just felt really beautiful,” she continued. “Not only that we were having that moment together, but that she had gotten to the place where she felt vulnerable enough that we could have that moment together, because that’s not anything she would have ever done when we started.” More

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    Lizzo Makes Shapewear

    The many, many people who have applauded, criticized and otherwise taken part in what often seems like an endless discussion around Lizzo’s naked form may be surprised to learn that she does not spend quite as much time undressed as they may think.“Sometimes when I look at the internet, I have an identity crisis because I’m, like, ‘Wait, who do these people think I am?’” Lizzo (birth name, Melissa Jefferson) said recently via Zoom from her home in Los Angeles. Behind her were many awards, an amethyst crystal for good vibes, and her Baby Yoda collection. “Right now I think people just think I’m naked all the time,” she said. “That’s the one thing I see: ‘Ooohhh, there’s old Lizzo, she’s naked again, I’m shocked she got on clothes.’”Sure, she has posted some nudes online, using her own body to force a reassessment of prejudices around size and beauty. Sure, she has gone to events like Cardi B’s birthday in a sheer crystal dress over a thong and pasties and set off a viral debate.But actually she has spent a good chunk of her time in the last three years not just on her upcoming album, or her new Amazon Prime reality show, “Watch Out for the Big Grrrls,” but also on an entirely different project. One that involves putting stuff on, rather than taking it off.It is, she teased recently on social media, “the biggest thing yet. Bigger than anything I’ve ever done.” It may also be the most controversial.Because Lizzo, champion of unfettered flesh, is making shapewear.You know, the type of underwear that traditionally has seemed the opposite of the message about loving yourself as you are, contained in such Lizzo songs as “Juice” and “Truth Hurts.” Not to mention her TV show.It’s the sort of potential contradiction that, in the social media echo chamber of personal sensitivities, can often end up viewed as a betrayal of the bond between fan and favorite. As Lizzo knows. Which is why she wants to be clear: She isn’t trying to change other people’s bodies. She’s trying to change the essence of shapewear itself.The line is called Yitty, after her childhood nickname, and it was created with Fabletics Inc., the parent company of Fabletics, the “active life wear brand” co-founded by Kate Hudson. It will be introduced this week with about 100 different pieces divided into three collections: Nearly Naked, Mesh Me and Major Label.Together, Lizzo said, they will “give everyone the opportunity to speak for themselves when it comes to how their body should look and how they should feel in their body.”“Shapewear was one of those untouched constructs in fashion people weren’t really messing with — or thinking about,” Lizzo said. ”At a certain point I started to make my own little pieces: little moments here, little moments there, little booty lift here. I wanted to share that.”YittyThe point is to do for the concept of so-called innerwear what Lizzo did for size in general, not to mention the flute, which she famously plays while twerking — what she has done for herself, really: break it out of the box where society and culture has stuck it. Get past body positive, which has become a sort of meaningless catchphrase for the mainstream, to body normative for everyone.“I’m selling that more than I’m selling thongs, more than I’m selling bodysuits or I’m selling shapewear,” Lizzo said. “I’m selling a mentality that ‘I can do what I want with my body, wear what I want and feel good while doing it.’” That whatever body you are showing off, it’s not, “‘Oh, how brave,’” she continued. “No. No more of that. Nothing to see here but a body, just like your body.”A Brief History of Shapewear“Shapewear” is a relatively new name for a very old concept (kind of like how “wellness” now encompasses “diet”) — that is, that a woman’s body should be altered via external means to make it more acceptable to the eyes of various beholders, most of them men. If that involved pain … well, such was the price of achieving society’s definition of beauty.What forms the alterations take have varied according to cultural norms; references to girdles can be found as far back as the “Iliad.” Panniers, those underskirt structures that exaggerated hips, were a 16th-century version of shapewear; so were steel or whalebone and canvas corsets. Come the mid-20th century, elasticated girdles were in vogue, which in turn gave way to pantyhose, which evolved, in 2000, into Spanx, which is what made shapewear modern-day famous.By swapping out cut-and-sew technology for Lycra knit, the Spanx founder Sara Blakely transformed Hollywood red carpets becoming a billionaire along the way.Still, Spanx, like all the corsets and girdles before it, was a kind of “foundation garment,” made to be hidden, its very existence suggesting that what was underneath was somehow not quite up to par, even as it acted as a secret weapon to allow bodies of all types access to clothes made for the few. Also, “comfort,” when it comes to shapewear, remained a relative term.In part to change that, lots of new players have entered the market, most notably, Yummie Tummie, founded in 2008 (and now rebranded as Yummie); Honeylove, created in 2016; and, above all, Skims, the Kim Kardashian brand, introduced in 2019, trumpeting comfort and a variety of skin color tones, and valued at $3.2 billion during a fund-raising round earlier this year.Allied Market Research recently issued a report predicting the global compression and shapewear market would be worth $6.95 billion by 2030.Lizzo: “The story goes that when I was born, my brother could not say ‘Melissa,’ so he would go, ‘Meyitta,’ and my Auntie Carmen would go, ‘Did he call her Yitty?’ From then on it was ‘Yitty, Yitty.’ Sadly, my auntie passed in May of 2020, and a few months later, I decided to call this Yitty in her honor. She would have loved this, she would have been so proud.”Bethany Mollenkof for The New York TimesThough shapewear sales declined during the pandemic (who needs it when you are lounging around at home in your sweats?), Kristen Classi-Zummo, an apparel industry analyst for the NPD group, said that there has been an uptick in interest as Covid-19 protocols have relaxed and nightlife has returned.Comfort remains important, she said, but growth was most apparent in “innovation, and pieces worn to shape and be seen,” especially among consumers under 40. Cora Harrington, the founder and editor in chief of The Lingerie Addict blog and the author of “In Intimate Detail: How to Choose, Wear, and Love Lingerie,” pointed out that for younger people, “Spanx tend to be more associated with their mothers. They want something more fashionable.”“I think there is space for another brand to bubble up and control that narrative,” Ms. Harrington said. Perhaps because, despite all the advances in the sector, the overriding aesthetic has remained tied to the Barbification of the body.That’s where Yitty comes in.A Briefer History of YittyThough it may seem, in the wake of Fenty and Skims, that Lizzo, 33, is simply jumping on the celebrity shapewear bandwagon, she has actually been thinking about the sector since she was 12.That, she said, was when she was growing up in Houston (her family had moved from Detroit when she was 10) and, starting in middle school, learning to be “ashamed of my body.” Later, once she had begun to assert herself musically, she rejected that mind-set, and the undergarments that came with it, entirely. And it was only after that, when she finally started to “have fun with my body, creating shapes and allowing my body to be curvaceous, loving the rolls that you’re supposed to hide, and exploring through fashion,” that she started to think about shapewear again.“I went to a store — I won’t name the store — looking for something for a party,” she said. “And the shapewear aisle was in disarray, like someone went in there in a mad dash looking for something they couldn’t find. There were pieces on the floor, and there were only three colors — jet black, ivory white or pink, the color of my nails.”Lizzo waved her hand, with its long, pointy nails the color of ballet shoes. “No one is that color!” she said. She got serious about changing that around the time of “Truth Hurts,” when she had a handful of meetings with different brands. “I was like: ‘Guys, I’m telling you, I’m trying to revolutionize shapewear and our relationship with it and with our bodies,’ and they were like, ‘Well, you could do a capsule collection with us for X, Y and Z,’ and I was like, ‘They’re not getting the vision!’”“It was important for me when I wear it and model it, I am not looking different than I normally look,” Lizzo said. “You see my rolls and see a belly, and sometimes you see me in super-high compression. A lot of times I will do red carpets and not wear shapewear at all, or not wear a bra. It depends on how I feel. You see me as I want you to see me.”YittyShe wanted shapewear that announced itself with pride — and felt like a hug. The kind of shapewear that if you sat down and your shirt rode up or your pants pulled down, you’d be happy to show off. The kind of shapewear you could wear with nothing on top. She didn’t even want to call it “shapewear.” She wanted to call it “bodywear,” but no one knew what that meant.Then Kevin Beisler, her manager, told her he had met with the Fabletics team, who had been doing a lot of customer surveys.Those customers had said that “the No. 1 category they wanted us to start was shapewear,” said Don Ressler, who founded Fabletics Inc., along with Adam Goldenberg. Mr. Ressler had seen what can happen when you combine celebrity power and a clothing sector in which the celebrity has some personal authority. (Fabletics was previously named TechStyle Fashion Group and had produced Savage X Fenty, which it spun off in 2019.)“They get it,” Mr. Beisler told Lizzo.“Those words alone were so incredible, because I hadn’t heard them,” she said. “Nobody had believed in my wild dream.”Actually, Mr. Ressler said, “we think it’s a multibillion-dollar opportunity.”The Lizzo FactorLizzo does not think the market is saturated or that she missed the boat because there are other brands ahead of her. “There’s nothing like feeling like you’re in the right place at the right time,” she said.Yitty is “something personal to me, something for the baby version of me,” she continued. “I have been parallel with the body positive movement for a long time, and people have made my name synonymous with it, and I’m always like, body positivity belonged to the people who truly created it, the Black, brown, queer big women, my girls in the 16 plus.” As an indicator of intended audience, the ad campaign features models of all sizes, including Lizzo’s best friend, who is an extra-small, as well as Lizzo herself.Lizzo is the chief executive and co-founder of Yitty; Kristen Dykstra, the former chief marketing officer of Fabletics, is president. The lines took three years to develop and will range from XS to 6X (which is one size bigger than any of Skims’ current offerings). Prices for leggings are $69.95 to $74.95, and bras will be $49.95 to $59.95.There are two compression weights, antimicrobial fabrics so the shorts and thongs and leggings can be worn without extra underwear, bras that hold their shape without underwire, a print that looks like a butterfly wing, and recycled packaging. Lizzo named all the colors, though her favorite inventions — for a bright blue and a bright pink — are unprintable here.”I don’t want to be the only one who can enjoy autonomy with my body because I am now in privileged position where people want to make me stuff and I can afford it,” Lizzo said. “I want to help other people out in that way too, so they’re not just looking at me and thinking, ‘Damn, I wish I could afford custom thousand-dollar pieces.’”Bethany Mollenkof for The New York TimesShe also tried everything on. “I love a cheeky panty, I really do,” she said. “It can be tricky when you’re using compression fabric because if it’s too cheeky, it can roll up.” But, she said, many times “I’d put a panty on and say. ‘Can you slide the side up this way?’” — she mimed raising the cut of the leg — “because it makes the booty look good.”She has very strong opinions about what she likes. “I could not take off the Yitty convertible bandeau for a long time,” she said. “I’m a bandeau innovator.” As for the shaping thong: “I’m like: ‘Hello, big girls wear thongs. Let us wear thongs and give me that little love up top.’”Yitty will be sold on its own website and on the Fabletics website. It will also be sold in shop-in-shops in the 76 Fabletics stores and have its own pop-up in Los Angeles on April 12. And it will be front and center at Lizzo tours and in her videos and TV shows. As far as she’s concerned, it’s the beginning of her next stage.“I want to be a world changer,” she said. “I wasn’t just making cool music — my art always had a bigger purpose. Now I’m just taking that usefulness and making it tangible.”“This is something I’m building that can hopefully last for generations — not just the company or the product, but the mentality of Yitty,” she continued. “This idea of liberation with your body and being able to express it in different ways can go so, so far.” More

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    From a Contemporary Drama Festival, Tales of Art and Survival

    At Berlin’s FIND festival of new international drama, some plays tackle big themes while others reject being useful.BERLIN — Theater, according to the Spanish director and performer Angélica Liddell, is a sacrificial act. In the opening minutes of her new show, “Liebestod: The Smell of Blood Does Not Leave My Eyes, Juan Belmonte — Histoire(s) du Théâtre III,” she takes a razor blade and slashes at her kneecaps and the back of her hands. It’s a “sacrifice in the name of the absurd,” she explains in an online teaser for the production. “It’s not a sacrifice in pursuit of the greater good.”“Liebestod” is the centerpiece of this year’s FIND festival of new international drama at the Schaubühne theater in Berlin, where many of the 2021 entries flirt with the redemptive power of art as a tool for both survival and transcendence.The theatrical persona Liddell assumes in “Liebestod,” a monologue-fueled play about art, religion, Wagner and bullfighting, is loud, angry, self-destructive and startlingly musical.When she’s not singing, cooing or screeching along to Bach, Handel and Spanish flamenco rumba, she lashes out at the audience for their mediocrity, hypocrisy and middlebrow tastes from a sparsely decorated stage whose yellow floor and red curtains suggest a bullring.In extended soliloquies, Liddell rails against the spiritual and aesthetic decadence of contemporary “culture.” Nor does she spare herself from scathing criticism. As a result, the production contains a running commentary on its own status as art.“Liebestod” refers, of course, to Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde.” The term is often used as a shorthand for the opera’s radiant coda, where Isolde sings herself to death in a moment of transfiguring ecstasy. We never hear the aria in the production, although Liddell, dressed as a matador, recites the lyrics to the stuffed effigy of a bull.While bullfighting is a main trope of the production, “Liebestod” is also awash in Catholic symbolism. Liddell renders the liturgical in ways both disturbing and absurd, including in a scene in which she mops her own blood with bread, which she then eats. There’s also a double amputee dressed as Jesus and a coffin-shaped glass reliquary filled with live cats. Some of these images seem worthy of Buñuel (an artist Liddell reveres), although the atheistic filmmaker would rise from the dead to protest when Liddell endorses theocracy as a corrective to a society built on secular values.Although she lacerates herself and her audience (some of whom left; others giggled nervously; most applauded heartily), it is clear that Liddell considers art a wellspring of holy beauty. And at the moments when her production approaches the high-water mark of the art she so venerates, Liddell makes us feel how dazzled she is.While Liddell performs as if her every minute onstage were a fight for survival, she’s not the only person with work at the festival for whom making art seems a matter of life and death. The Russian director Kirill Serebrennikov spent 18 months under house arrest in Moscow on charges of embezzlement that are widely considered to be trumped up. During his long confinement (and the coronavirus lockdowns that came after it), Serebrennikov has directed plays, operas, films and even a ballet remotely. Much of his confinement-era work has dealt with persecution, paranoia and even incarceration, suggesting a therapeutic working through of themes that loom large in the director’s new reality.In 2017, Serebrennikov contacted the Chinese photographer Ren Hang about developing a play inspired by his arrestingly provocative images. Shortly afterward, Hang leapt to his death and Serebrennikov’s freedom of movement was curtailed. From his living room, he devised “Outside,” a phantasmagorical double exposure of himself and Hang that premiered at the 2019 Avignon Festival.In “Outside,” by Kirill Serebrennikov, erotic choreographies bring Ren Hang’s photos to life.Ira PolarAt the start of the performance, the American actor Odin Lund Biron plays a character who is similar to his director. He converses with his shadow about life in confinement and under surveillance. These early scenes, which depict a version of the director’s Kafkaesque ordeal from the inside, are the most dramatically absorbing in the play. Soon, however, Biron is all but supplanted by the suave Russian actor Evgeny Sangadzhiev, who plays the Chinese photographer. The stage fills with beautiful bodies, many naked or in various stages of undress.Much of the following 90 minutes is a series of erotic choreographies that bring Hang’s photos to life. While frequently arresting, the lengthy succession of tableaux vivants often feels arbitrary in its order and selection.“Outside,” though less hermetic than “Liebestod,” is similarly committed to art that is upfront about mining personal pain for the sort of rare beauty that can produce epiphany. For all of their differences, these two shows reflect the sensibilities of artists who are not afraid to practice their art as an end in itself.“I think that making theater into a tool is death to theater and death to art,” Liddell says in the “Liebestod” teaser. In the context of this year’s festival, that credo almost sounds like a warning to some of the other artists featured in the program.In “Not the End of the World,” the writer Chris Bush and the director Katie Mitchell run the risk of using theater to lecture the audience about the dangers of climate change. Bush is a young, acclaimed British playwright; Mitchell is arguably the most influential English theater maker working regularly on the continent. Sadly, their encounter is ill-fated.From left, Alina Vimbai Strähler, Veronika Bachfischer and Jule Böwe in Chris Bush’s “Not the End of the World.” Gianmarco BresadolaThe play toggles between time periods and plot lines at breakneck speed: a young climate scientist interviewing for a postdoctoral position; a researcher who dies during a research expedition; a woman delivering a eulogy for her mother.To their credit, Bush and Mitchell have consciously avoided making a militant play, but what they’ve given us is so slippery that it’s very difficult to get a handle on.The wealth of obscure or cosmically weird anecdotes that are stuffed into this collagelike text often make the play sound like “Findings,” the back-page feature of Harper’s Magazine that compiles wild facts from science journals.In keeping with the play’s theme, the entire production has been crafted with an eye to sustainability. The British team didn’t travel to Berlin for rehearsals; the sets and costumes have been recycled or repurposed; and the show’s sound and lighting is powered by two cyclists who pedal from the sides of the stage. Yet these facts don’t add much to the production.Another British production at FIND, Alexander Zeldin’s “Love,” also runs the risk of “making theater into a tool.” First seen at the National Theater in London in 2016, it centers on a family who have been suddenly evicted from their apartment and find themselves in a crowded shelter, struggling to maintain their dignity.Janet Etuk in “Love,” by Alexander Zeldin.Nurith Wagner-StraussThere are so many ways that a play like this could go wrong, but “Love” is neither earnest nor preachy. The themes are so elegantly dramatized, and the characters so beautiful rendered, that it winds up being politically urgent almost by stealth; the production’s emotional impact is surprising considered how economically it is put together.The immense set depicting the dreary residence plays a focusing role — for the actors, I imagine, as much as for the audience. This is naturalistic theater at its best, evoking the work of the filmmakers Mike Leigh and Ken Loach.“Love” had me thinking that perhaps Liddell is too absolutist in her thinking. I’m not saying it’s easy, but in the right artist’s hands, theater that is alive to social and political issues can be an occasion for beauty and transcendence.FIND 2021 continues at the Schaubühne through Oct. 10 More

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    How One Graphic Novel Looks at Anti-Asian Hate

    In “Cyclopedia Exotica,” the artist and writer Aminder Dhaliwal created a fictitious community facing xenophobia, fetishization and media misrepresentation. It’s resonating with her thousands of Instagram followers.In the new graphic novel “Cyclopedia Exotica,” immigrants with one eye coexist uneasily with their two-eyed neighbors.Members of the cyclops community are targeted by curious online daters and porn addicts, as well as cosmetic surgeons eager to give them that desirable two-eyed look. They contend with xenophobes protesting mixed marriages, hateful comments from subway Karens and, in some cases, physical violence.In 2018, when the artist and author Aminder Dhaliwal began sharing pages with her nearly 250,000 Instagram followers, she was drawing from her experiences as a South Asian woman growing up in England and Canada, but she wondered if the topic was relevant.“I remember saying to a friend, I want to do a book on microaggressions, but that’s, like, so old. Is it even worth doing?” she said in a phone interview from Burbank, Calif., where she now lives.Three years on, Dhaliwal’s book seems particularly of the moment. It’s tough to miss the parallels between its characters, minorities singled out because of their eyes, and the spate of reported attacks on Asian people in the United States over the past months. “I could not imagine that this would be happening this year,” she said.The graphic novel begins with the story of Etna, the world’s first cyclops sex symbol. Her critically acclaimed 2018 debut, “Woman World,” imagined an idyllic, supremely chill future in which guys went extinct years ago. (Spoiler alert: They aren’t really missed.) Published by the Canadian comics house Drawn & Quarterly this month, “Cyclopedia Exotica” is her second book and has already connected with a diverse readership.“A lot of the microaggression stuff was specifically about Asians,” Dhaliwal, 32, said. “But I also get questions like, ‘Is this about queer people?’ Or, ‘I relate to this so much as a trans person.’”Born in Wembley, London, she moved when she was 11 to Brampton, Ontario, a predominantly South Asian suburb of Toronto. She loved to draw from an early age, tracing the covers of her brother’s video game cases and creating Harry Potter fan art. She knew she wanted to do something art-related but wasn’t sure what she could do or whom to even ask. “Being an Asian kid, I feel like my family had access to every doctor,” she said. “But I didn’t know anyone doing art.”Inspired by a presentation at Sheridan College given by a Disney “Beauty and the Beast” animator, Dhaliwal enrolled in the school’s animation department. “He was this larger guy with a big old beard, and he flips a switch and he’s Belle,” she said. “It was just bananas to me. I knew at that moment that I wanted to dedicate my life to this craft, because it just seemed so fun and silly.”After graduation, Dhaliwal found work in Los Angeles as a writer and artist on animated shows like “The Fairly OddParents” and “Sanjay and Craig.” The work was rewarding — in 2020, she earned a spot on Variety’s list of “Ten Animators to Watch” — but the secrecy and nondisclosure agreements involved wore her down. “So much of my day-to-day is hidden behind N.D.A.’s,” she said. “You get exhausted not getting to talk about the cool things you’re working on or getting to process the hard things you’re going through.”Aminder Dhaliwal began sharing pages on Instagram in 2018. “I remember saying to a friend, I want to do a book on microaggressions, but that’s, like, so old,” she said. “Is it even worth doing?”Joyce Kim for The New York TimesAfter working for four years on a pilot for an animated series that never got greenlit, she knew she had to create her own comics, things she could post online for immediate feedback. She started with a Harry Potter spoof, then a tongue-in-cheek comic based on the Japanese manga series “Death Note.”“Woman World” came to Dhaliwal after she participated in the 2017 Women’s March in Los Angeles and saw signs that read “the future is female.” What might that look like, she wondered? As with “Cyclopedia Exotica,” she questioned her idea early on. “I remember starting to write it and thinking like, ehhh, feminism is doing great,” she said. “And then the #MeToo movement happened, and I was like, oh yeah.”The animation industry had its own reckoning in 2018, dubbed the #MeToon movement. Dhaliwal and her fellow animator Megan Nicole Dong (“Pinky Malinky,” “How to Train Your Dragon 2”) joined others in creating an organization that led to changes in human-resources practices at several studios and the one-year suspension of the “Loud House” creator Chris Savino following sexual harassment allegations. “Initially, we were just trying to create a safe space to talk about things that had been happening in animation,” Dong said. “But it evolved into a much bigger movement within our industry.”The success of “Woman World” gave Dhaliwal new confidence. “I had been working as a comedy writer for years and didn’t know if I was funny,” she said. “I remember asking one of my office mates, ‘Am I funny?,’ which now seems like such a sad question. It’s like a teenager asking a friend, ‘Am I pretty?’ I didn’t realize how much I needed someone else to say yes, you’re funny.”Unlike “Woman World,” the inspiration for “Cyclopedia Exotica” didn’t come from a march or movement. “I wish I could tell you there was some really beautiful reason,” Dhaliwal said. “But truly, I just found cyclops so interesting. So often they just look like people, except for their one defining feature. The first thing I remember sketching were pinup drawings of cyclops, and it went from monsters in erotica to looking at how minorities find acceptance through being attractive.”Dhaliwal is among several artists who have showcased and serialized their work on Instagram, including Lucy Knisley (“Kid Gloves”), Shelby Lorman (“Awards for Good Boys”), and Liana Finck (“Passing for Human”). Like Dhaliwal, many use social-media platforms to show their work, describe their creative processes and discuss everything from depression to writer’s block.“Cyclopedia Exotica” begins with the story of Etna, the world’s first cyclops sex symbol. Later, other cyclops deal with being perceived as overly submissive, the lack of cyclops representation in Hollywood movies, and worries about whether mixed children will have one eye or two.“Aminder has always been so observant about everything,” Dong said. “She’s also friends with so many people, and so many different kinds of people, that all of these things in her book feel very authentic, because they’re either based on things she’s experienced or things her family and friends have gone through.”One cyclops goes to a cosmetic surgeon to get two eyes — a nod, Dhaliwal said, to double-eyelid surgeries targeted at Asians. The character’s surgery doesn’t take. “People die for beauty, because they feel they don’t look a certain way,” she said. “But so often people trivialize beauty, and say things like, you need to get over it, or you need to be OK with yourself.”“That’s the message animation shows always try to tell kids,” she continued. “Be true to yourself. But I think that can be really hard to swallow when the world has punished you so often for being who you are.”In many ways, the current climate of anti-Asian hate feels familiar to Dhaliwal. “I remember after 9/11, and for the next 10 or 15 years, it just sucked having brown skin. It seemed like every offhand joke was about being a terrorist. And then you get this odd experience where you’re like, finally, the Eye of Sauron turns to another group, and your first reaction is like, phew, we’re out of it, the eye’s not on us anymore! When instead, we should be thinking: No one should ever feel like this.”Dhaliwal is working on a new comic series that she hopes to begin posting on Instagram this month. She’s also written for the upcoming Netflix animated series “Centaurworld,” created by Dong, and was recently selected to serve as a mentor and consultant on the Creative Council of Cartoon Network’s shorts program, “Cartoon Cartoons,” which will showcase the work of diverse and up-and-coming animators.While Dhaliwal probably won’t be telling her mentees to just be true to themselves, she will be able to share what it means to be a working animator in an industry that’s gotten more inclusive but still has a ways to go. “I’m going to get to give creative feedback to all these people who are trying to make something and do something really creative,” she said. “It’s exciting to be in this position, because I’ve been in their position so often.”Follow New York Times Books on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, sign up for our newsletter or our literary calendar. And listen to us on the Book Review podcast. More