Emmie Mears
SFF. Queer AF.

My Body

My Body Image

My Body

Yesterday was sort of link palooza. I kept finding things and chasing trails of links all over the interwebz. One resulted in a long blog post. Another’s about to result in another one. Though hopefully a bit shorter — because my fingers, they are tired.

I read this fabulous post that made me think a lot about those words. My Body. Today when I walked to work, someone honked at me. I turned out of reflex, and a guy yelled, “HEY SEXY BABY, WHERE YOU GOIN’?” out the window. On a mild moment, I’d have ignored him. But today, it was one catcall too many for this year. “MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!” I yelled back.

Some teenagers riding their bikes around gave me a startled look.

Later at work, one of the newer cooks came up behind me and pinched me. “How you doin’, baby?”

I turned around and said, “Do not ever pinch me again.”

And it made me think more about my body, this hunk of skin and bone and fat and muscle and hair that people feel they can comment on, leer at, stare at, jeer at, poke, pinch, prod, touch. Not just every year or every month, but every day this happens. On the way to work, on the way home. At the store or at my job. Comments, catcalls, sometimes cruelties. It’s not me that asks for it. My mere existence is not an invitation. My body does not make them do those things.

I wrote the following…thing…(I guess I could maaaaaaybe call it a poem? Sure.) It was inspired by what I read over at Defeating Dragons. Here you go.

My Body is Mine (My Body is Mine Alone)

My body is not a stumbling block.

My body is not here for your entertainment.

My body is the one thing on this earth that I’ve owned since birth and the one thing on this earth that I’ll own until the moment of my death.

My body is mine.

My body is mine alone.

It doesn’t matter what I wear or don’t. What makeup I paint upon my face. What earrings dangle from my ears. How much or little of my skin the sun can touch.

My body belongs to me.

My body does not make you reach out a hand and touch it.

My body does not make you yell at me out of your car, from across a street, from a bus stop, from a train, from a bike.

My body does not pull the words bitch or cunt or whore from your lips.

My body is mine.

My body is mine alone.

It is not my body that made him violate me. It is not my body that whispers to men and beckons loud words or cruel comments.

Those things come from outside of my body.

I live in my body.

My body is my home.

My body gives me strength and energy.

My body tells me when my strength is gone.

My body has made me feel shame.

My body has turned shame to joy.

My body feels pain.

My body feels pleasure.

My body is me.

My body is not for the taking.

My body belongs to no one else.

My body is mine to share.

My body has been stolen from me.

And once, I was evicted.

But I came home. To my body, myself.

My body is to be respected. Its boundaries are my own.

My body is mine.

My body is mine alone.

 

 

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Author | Emmie Comments | 7 Date | September 6, 2013

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David Jón Fuller

Awesome post, Emmie.

September 6, 2013 | 9:19 am

    Emmie

    Thank you, David!

    September 6, 2013 | 10:24 am

Bill Parker

Love this.

September 6, 2013 | 10:13 am

    Emmie

    Thanks, Bill!

    September 6, 2013 | 10:20 am

Carrie

This is strong, powerful, dynamic,important, and so very true. I’m so sad you were evicted, but you moved back in and the woman you are today won’t ever be evicted ever again. Your sharing others may return home again too. You are truly amazing Em, thank you.

September 6, 2013 | 2:44 pm

    Emmie

    Thank you, Carrie!

    September 6, 2013 | 3:09 pm

Kourtney Heintz

Amazing and powerful. Thanks Emmie.

September 28, 2013 | 7:18 pm

Comments are closed.

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