My body will be liberated when I can walk home without checking over my shoulder, keeping my keys in my hand, making sure 911 is on speed dial, and keeping my head down. My body will be unchained when I can walk to the corner store in broad daylight without men whistling, snarling obscenities, asking if I need a ride, why my boyfriend isn’t driving me, or how I’m doing. My body will be free when I can turn on the radio without hearing the musical degradation of my gender, without listening to the words “s***” and “w****” sung and rapped to catchy tunes.
When models of all shapes, colors, and sizes strut down the runway, my body will be liberated. When I no longer feel pressure to emulate Photoshopped starved primped skeleton bodies that don’t even really exist off the magazine page, my body will be liberated. When American Apparel makes size extra large and not just extra small, my body will be liberated.
My body will be liberated when I can show it off without “asking for it.” And when I get the same level of respect in a miniskirt as I do in jeans. It will be liberated when I can use it to sleep with whomever I please, whenever I please, anyway I please, without it making me lesser. When I can say no. Even I said yes before. Even if I said yes to his friend. Even if I have a bad reputation. Even if he took me to a nice restaurant first. Even if he’s my boyfriend.
My body will be liberated when politicians stop telling me what I can and cannot do with it. My body will be liberated when I can take for granted my right to choose when, if ever, I have a child. And my body will be liberated when my child doesn’t have to unlearn what a patriarchal society has taught her about her body. My body is unique. My body is mine. It’s not my identity, it’s not what defines me, it’s not what decides my worth. It’s just my body. But it needs to be liberated from violence, objectification, judgment, and unjust control.
When models of all shapes, colors, and sizes strut down the runway, my body will be liberated. When I no longer feel pressure to emulate Photoshopped starved primped skeleton bodies that don’t even really exist off the magazine page, my body will be liberated. When American Apparel makes size extra large and not just extra small, my body will be liberated.
My body will be liberated when I can show it off without “asking for it.” And when I get the same level of respect in a miniskirt as I do in jeans. It will be liberated when I can use it to sleep with whomever I please, whenever I please, anyway I please, without it making me lesser. When I can say no. Even I said yes before. Even if I said yes to his friend. Even if I have a bad reputation. Even if he took me to a nice restaurant first. Even if he’s my boyfriend.
My body will be liberated when politicians stop telling me what I can and cannot do with it. My body will be liberated when I can take for granted my right to choose when, if ever, I have a child. And my body will be liberated when my child doesn’t have to unlearn what a patriarchal society has taught her about her body. My body is unique. My body is mine. It’s not my identity, it’s not what defines me, it’s not what decides my worth. It’s just my body. But it needs to be liberated from violence, objectification, judgment, and unjust control.
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