The body is a truly personal object. Each is unique to every person and has its own shape and size. But what does it really mean to own your body?
My body is unique even among my family. I do favor my mother’s face, but not her body. I have traits of my father, but not his body either. Who am I if not my mother or father?
These are the questions that race through my head as I study myself in the mirror. And I find more days than not I do not like what I see. I’m to boyish or to girly today or I am not comfortable in this skin.
Society has a standard that is defined as beautiful.
Skinny: I am skinny only because of my genetics I guess.
Tall: coming in at 5’7 I am considered average height to many.
Fair skin: My olive/yellow skin favors my Scots/Irish and French heritage.
Usually blonde: no matter how I dye my hair I will always be an auburn haired girl.
A fit body and no sign of pudge on the tummy: I may be fit but I do have a small amount of pudge. I never saw that as bad but that it meant I was healthy.
No visible scars and an unobstructed face i.e. no glasses: I have to wear either glasses or contacts in order to function.
An unmarked life seemed rather boring to me. Each scar has a story to tell, a memory of my life forever cut or burned into my physical self.
These were things that made me me. I had to learn to accept my body for what it was. But did that mean that I would fit in or be liked?
Looking at pictures from my early years I easily find myself among my friends. The darker skinned one amid all of the pink/pale skinned people. Most of whom also had dark hair, but not like mine.
It was joke to my parents in a way, they just had to look for the odd one out. But that had adverse side effects on me growing up. I would never fit in with the people I was in school with. Those girls were closer if not spot on to the standard.
Those girls got the boys and I did not. Those girl got the attention and I did not. Though I still tried to be something that I could never be. I really just wanted to fit in, but I was born to stand out.
Only recently have I discovered that it was okay to be a woman or even a girl. Though it seems strange to me that roughly half the population of the planet in female yet that is still considered a lesser being. Yet we have people who justify actions because it is on the behalf of women or the female. That somehow women are incapable of speaking for themselves.
Though history seems to be in favor of this narrative I am not. As a young woman the idea of having the continuation of the species resting on my shoulders truly frightens me.
But I know that I want to continue my line eventually and join the scores of women who have a shared experience: the joy and pain of childbirth. Yes I want that but that does not mean I do not want other things as well.
I truly believe that everyone is equal. Men, women, black, white, straight, gay, bisexual, it really does not matter.
Women are people not just as pin ups for young men to gawk at. But so are men.
We do not think about the double standard for women. Women are not to be objectified but it is completely acceptable for them to objectify men.
Women are allowed to judge men in the media, yet men are not. The idea of sexually objectification as only a woman’s problem is completely ludicrous.
I was watching this video earlier today.
These men spoke rather candidly about what it means to be a man and how even feelings and appearance are a big part of how they are perceived.
What I perceived in my naive mind as socially driven problem. But it got me thinking: what does it mean to accept my body and who I am inside?
I am a woman. That is something that both genetics and society have deemed me. Physically I am a woman and I accept that as part of who I am. But I also don’t think of myself as a truly womanized figure.
Through no fault of my own other than I spent a lot of time with my dad and older brother, I came to prefer the company of men. I did not think of them as sexual objects, but I was privy to the thoughts and ideas of young men. Who is the hottest girl in school? What makes a girl hot? A nice butt or big breasts?
I realized after puberty had had its way with me that I was not well endowed. My figure was stocky at best. This really put a huge strain on me to hide my body and pretend like I was not a girl, but something else.
This did have adverse effects on some of my friends and classmates. Societies requirements to be skinny and blonde as the only way to be pretty ate at them until they were hardly recognizable.
I suffered in my own ways. I was not going to be one of the girls who had every boy turning their head to watch me walk down the hall. That just was not in the cards for me. What I could do is make friends and try to find a way to comfortable in my own skin. Even when that was the last thing I wanted to do.
It took a long time and I did not realize that I was pretty until I was in college. Though if anyone tries to tell me I am I don’t accept the compliment because I am still insecure about myself.
But insecurity is also a human quality not just a woman’s problem. Many young men are insecure about their bodies or even just themselves as a whole. Who are they and what is their purpose in this place? How is it that women are allowed to question everything but men are just supposed to accept things for the way they are?
We learn very quickly that life and people are any thing but fair. Only when we try to be something that we are not do we see ourselves for what we are. Flawed.
We are imperfect, but that does not mean that there is not perfection in us. Dr. Susses, one of my favorite authors, said it best: “You are the best you and only you can be you.”
Our imperfections and our quirks make us who we are. Whether that be big or small, black or white, tall or short, blonde or brunette. All of our differences make us unique, but the things we have in common bring us together.
Hundreds or millions of women will never meet but they all share a common factor: motherhood. They have brought life into this crazy world and that is something no one can take away from them, not even death. Because they still have brought another being into existence and that is a remarkable thing in of itself.
One day I might join the prestigious club of mothers but for now I will just protest the objectification of humans as a whole because we need to love one another in order for changes to happen. Without love there is no hope and without hope there is no point.
Spread the love, give hope to all, and just remember you are unique and that makes you special.
