April 12, 2015

Body Empowerment Campaigns Make me feel Sad & Objectified.

nude woman sketch torso sketch wiki commons

Warning: Naughty language ahead!


“As if you were on fire from within.
The moon lives in the lining of your skin.” ~ Pablo Neruda

I am not the curve in my hips or the smiling cellulite dimples on my ass cheeks.

I am not the stretch marks on my stomach or the pimples that camp out in the creases next to my nose.

I am not my at-times perky breasts or the stubbly hairs kissing beads of sweat in my armpits.

Yes, I reside in my body and I am learning to respect my body.

But, I am not my body.

I am me.

I am a spinning collection of complex—if not chaotic and terribly inconsistent—energies.

And, I am god damn tired of the way I objectify my body.

I am god damn tired of the way we objectify each other’s bodies, even in the name of empowerment.

And, I don’t know what sexy looks like or doesn’t look like, all I know is that I want to talk of more.

Much more.

The stale conversation about women’s beauty doesn’t feel profoundly inspiring; it feels profoundly limiting.

What about soul sexiness?

Heart gorgeousness?

Mind fucking brilliance?

What about who we really are?

Because our real lusciousness sparkles underneath the skin, in tiny glass jars that, in the wrong light, could be dismissed as nonexistent or invisible.

But, not today.

Today, let’s grab a sledgehammer, shatter all preconceived notions and find something more substantial.

Let’s part the space between our collarbones and dive like dolphins into the depths of our weary, nectar-filled hearts.

Let’s taste the slimy surface, kayak through heartbreaks and hairline fractures, and map our way past dripping pains and succulent lessons and mountains of blushing mistakes.

Let’s launch rockets off our thighs and have them land in the desperate valleys of our fears and uncertainties and insecurities and vulnerabilities.

Let’s dip our toes in the turquoise waters of raw, unfettered emotion.

Let’s sail so far past sexy or pretty or beautiful or hot.

Let’s watch the sunset through waves of wisdom and walk into the white-hot volcanic ashes of our souls.

Let’s lick the salty sea foam depths of our suffering as we would a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone in mid July.

Let’s do a striptease with our souls.

Let’s sway our hips and minds, take a shot of courageous centeredness and slowly remove our shiniest facades.

One by one.

Let’s seductively peel off our spirit’s skintight lacy silk underwear, too.

Hell yes.

Let’s bare everything, not just our bodies.

Let’s tickle pulsating, stringy threads of jealousy and anger and joy and laughter and insecurity and confusion, following them back to their seemingly mysterious origins.

Let’s get naked with honesty.

Let’s lock lips with vulnerability.

Let’s get to second base with truth.

Let’s close our eyes and see light years beyond our bodies.

Let’s get really fucking brave and show off our shaky souls and wobbly innermost thoughts.

Because for fuck’s sake, we are not our bodies.

We are so, so, so much more.

Let’s remember this, always.

Let’s grab endless cups of too-strong coffee and talk about our dreams and hopes and pain and failures—not just our thighs.

My ears are ravenous for raw tidbits of trembling vulnerable realness.

I hope yours are, too.

Let’s talk, for real.


Relephant Read:

Your Body Ain’t Wrong, Girlfriend. {67 Untouched Nude Photos}


Author: Sarah Harvey

Editor: Emily Bartran

Photo: Wikimedia Commons


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