There are days we wake up hating everything about our bodies, wanting to leave it all behind and walk around naked in a way no one understands.
How we now look at every woman on the street and wonder if the space between her legs is a crime scene, surrounded by ripped caution tape.
How we walk around feeling like an accident.
We want to say that they have been waging a war against our bodies for too long.
We are the girls with bodies that need an apology, with bodies that need healing from all the ways they’ve been wounded.
Nobody ever taught us to somehow pick a survivor out of these ashes.
It is hard to live in a body that insists on pulling itself apart, a body that doesn’t know any better. It is hard to live with this body when it is a universe collapsing.
The statistics tell me that this is so common that I will never be in a room that does not contain a survivor. Not even if I am in that room alone.
This body belong to us— rough, worn, beaten. It is our home, our sanctuary, our safe place, we will stand in the ruins they have made of this body and turn it into something to be learned.
We will not let our bodies become wreckage.
Written by Kamnelechukwu Susan Obasi
Photo: Kamnelechukwu Susan Obasi