Hi, I'm Shelley Duvall

a piece about being a famous woman in Hollywood

Hi, I'm Shelley Duvall. 

You might know me.
You know my young face best. 

You saw Altman's pedestal of me: 
doe-eyed gamine
an innocent sassy, swishy, 
sad seductress or spacey groupie or doting gimlet. 

You saw Kubrick's unrelenting terrorization of me: 
weeping for hours and months
my gangly body shaking in flannel and coveralls 
defending myself against a man who - at this moment - lives 
and lives like a king.  

Hi, I'm Shelley Duvall. 

I created and ran a beloved television series, 
recruiting the very best artists to spin faery tales into cinematic gold, 
artists who have continued to swim in piles of their money, 
artists who are - of course - male. 
I follow in the footsteps of Lucille Ball, actress-turned-producer, 
but this is the 80's and I'm not even 40 yet. 
It's hard but worth doing for my future.

Hi, I'm Shelley Duvall. 

My access to doctors and medicine is contingent on my health insurance
which is contingent on my union's stipulations
which is contingent on working a certain amount of hours every 6 months
which is contingent on booking roles or getting offers
which is contingent on writers creating parts for women
which is contingent on those parts not being exclusively for those who are
young
thin
and new to the world.

Hi, I'm Shelley Duvall. 

I'm easily confused and easier to exploit. 
My doe eyes are set in a nest of saggy skin and cracking wrinkles, 
and I'm no longer the leggy Olive Oyl people expect to find. 
I'm hiding away with my partner in Texas 
because it's easier. 

Hi, I'm Shelley Duvall. 

I'm on my way to becoming a piece of mythic iconography:
a meme on TikTok
a moment in cinematic time with my unwashed hair, blue robe, and kitchen knife
a picture for your Pinterest board for haircut ideas
a tragic story because I grew old and sick
a superficial projection you can toss your idea about aging and mental illness on. 

Hi, I'm Shelley Duvall. 
You didn't know me.