“This is somebody who likes to eat” -Donald J. Trump
This is somebody who likes to eat.
This is somebody who likes to dance and sing and write and speak for herself.
This is somebody who has been spoken for. Somebody who has been spoken over. Somebody who is not to speak.
Some body that is not meant for journalism, for campaigns, for hate or violence. Some body that yearns to be appreciated and loved. Some body that was deemed ugly, too big, not right.
Some body I changed to be the right kind of body. Some body that was “right” but also sick, malnourished, upset, cold. Some body that won awards. Some body that a man made millions of dollars choosing from a sea of bodies.
Some body. This is a body that healed. This is a body that sought both medicine and affection and seclusion. This is a body not meant for anyone else.
Some body dragged back into the light. Some body forced to face humiliation again, a man’s words drowning me out again. Some body written to fit. Some body made small and bad and wrong in the words of a man who cannot know how it feels to be written into a box too small for your body. Some body that was shamed for sex tapes, emotions, actions, and opinions that it was told not to have. Some body that housed far more than extra pounds and fictional shame.
This body. My body. Not for politics. Not for a crown or a title or a man or an easily read story. NOT a body to be written over.