Piece de Cam 'She Is, She Isn't' by CHAT GPT AI for the Tale Teller Club

I am experimenting with AI for school projects. Please feel free to use this as a springboard for school projects, homework, and performances that can be expanded. Please send link to us in any YouTube videos you create based on this project.

This was my prompt.

Write an avant-garde performance spoken word piece de cam about the never-ending personal struggle for women in this picture navigating the irrational desire for attention with the offensive nature of objectification. Use the image as a starting point but nothing more. This should be a conceptual feminist piece that uses egalitarian principles and makes the viewer listener ask questions about the objectification of women in art and everyday living in contemporary society.

This was the AI response.

"She is / She Isn’t"

(Lights dim, a single spotlight flickers, illuminating the stage. The performer steps into the light, their shadow elongating on the floor. The rhythm of heels clicking plays softly in the background, growing louder as the performer begins to speak.)

She is: Silhouette on cobblestone, Walking in whispers and echoing bones, Eyes on her like a prize, a feast, Or is she the hunter? The beast?

She isn’t: A body to be consumed, A canvas for your gaze, Not a backdrop for your fantasies to bloom, Not the sum of what you appraise.

(The performer pauses, pacing slowly, the sound of heels louder, almost unsettling.)

She is: Desire—irrational, insatiable—
A flame flickering, not quite tamable, Walking contradictions, flesh and thought, Wants to be seen, but not to be caught.

She isn’t: Just skin stretched over bone,
Not the pages of a magazine,
Not the lines of a sonnet,
Nor the brushstroke on canvas, unseen.

(The performer gestures toward the audience, drawing them in, challenging their gaze.)

She is: Here—on this stage, in this frame, A body, a mind—one and the same, Every glance, every word, a silent fight, Between the power of visibility and the cloak of night.

She isn’t: Your reflection, your control, Not the muse of a patriarchal scroll, Not the echo of what you think she should be, She is more, she is less, she is free.

(The background sound of heels clicking morphs into a heartbeat, steady and strong. The performer’s voice grows louder, filled with passion.)

She is: A scream and a whisper, a paradox, a game, Struggling to claim her name, A constant push and pull,
Between being whole and being null.

She isn’t: Here to please or to perform, Not a silent storm, Not the sum of male desire, She is flesh, blood, fire.

(The performer stops moving, standing still, the heartbeat in the background becoming louder, pulsating through the room.)

We ask: Where do we draw the line?
Between admiration and objectification,
Between attention and subjugation?

When does a look become a cage?
When does a word become a knife?
How do we balance this rage?
The struggle between art and life?

(The heartbeat stops suddenly. Silence. The performer takes a deep breath, stepping closer to the edge of the stage, addressing the audience directly.)

She is: An enigma, a labyrinth of thought,
A soul, a story, battles fought,
She walks that line—so thin, so frayed,
Hoping her power won’t be betrayed.

She isn’t: An object, a thing to define,
Not yours, not his, not theirs—she’s mine,
And hers, and ours—a collective scream,
For a world where she can just be, not seem.

(The lights flicker, dimming until only the outline of the performer remains visible, a shadow in the dark.)

She is: Resilient.
Evolving.
Ever-changing.
Never-ending.

She isn’t: Finished.
Defined.
Owned.
Controlled.

(The light goes out completely. The sound of heels clicking fades into nothingness. Silence.)