Essentially, if our secrets are secrets because we are told to be ashamed, then we must share them. There is no shame in being sad or struggling or trying to heal. We are all desperate, depraved and sacred. We are all terrible and brillIant. I can list all the things that can make a girl want to escape her own body (re: patriarchy). But I’d rather list all the things that make me want to stay in my body, and adorn it like a home, rub oils into my skin, tell it how sorry I am for trying to leave, for trying to hurt it into submission.
I knew it wasn’t too important, but it made me sad anyway.
When I was in high school, teachers used to come up to me and make sure that my skirts/shorts went past the length of my fingertips. They would stand there and make me put my arms at my sides to check that they were not too short. That shit is fucked up.