There has to be a change
Because every day I see girls slowly suffocating on the mustard gas idea of beauty
and it isn’t just the fat girls with the thick hips and shelves of stomach
It’s curly hair and dark skin and bitten nails and pimples and you know what?
I just don’t feel like shaving today.
We are fighting a war that is far more immediate than the war on terror or drugs and it’s happening now:
We’re fighting the war on self esteem
And it’s worse because there isn’t some other we can say is pumping in hate
It’s a war against ourselves, and we fight it every time we open our eyes.
Women throw words like grenades when they stand in front of the mirror, cutting chasms like they slice fruits as they fight against the body that they hate, trying to free themselves from the cage that they feel trapped in, a perpetual prisoner of war.
But there isn’t an escape, because every day is another pound gained, another hair grayed, another scar that has to be wiped away by makeup just to feel allowed to exist.
There’s no end to the battle, because the end goal is perfection, and we’re so blinded by smoky eyes and thick lashes that we’ve forgotten that there is a perfect miracle in the heartbeat of being alive.
A change has to start somewhere
And it’s going to start when we step out of that torture chamber
And dance without worrying if our belly bounces
And wear a summer dress with hair punching through skin, the new daisies after a nuclear winter
And kissing our scars because they are more than battle wounds
they are badges of honor
We will remember that perfection isn’t an age or a number or a shade of blonde
It is a spectrum of being
And it all stops when we quit choking on the “If I do this I’ll be beautiful” bullshit
And breathe in a fresh air affirmation
I am beautiful. I will always be beautiful. Full stop.