What don’t you understand about ‘My body, my choice’?
It seems pretty straight forward to me. This is my body. This is your body. Our bodies should only touch if we both decide that we want to. It seems like a discussion I would have with my 5 year old niece. No something I would have to stand up on a tall building and scream about to be heard. I haven’t screamed off the top of a tall building but even if I had I am not sure I would be heard.
My body, my choice.
This applies to so so so many things.
But recently it has been on my mind when in a course of 36 hours three different men tried and succeeded to touch me when I was not reciprocating the desire to touch. It happened at a party, in the lobby of a hotel, and in a well-lit park in a nice neighborhood of Paris.
I waited a few days to write about this but I am still in shock really. I cannot understand how this happened. I am an average looking woman, by no means skinny or sexy, by no means seeking the intentions of a man. I feel like there are moments when I send out the sex vibe, but now that I am in a committed relationship I feel like I have turned that sex vibe right off.
So what is the problem?
Why are these men touching me?
And why isn’t the world standing up in revolt?
Because this, this is totally normal. This happens every day. This is nothing spectacular. I am not unique. I am just another woman. Just another statistic.
But what about my body my choice? I live in the modern society where women have the right to vote and education and according to the history books we are “empowered”.
And I feel dirty. I feel like I must have done something wrong. I find myself reviewing my wardrobe. Was my skirt to shirt? Was my shirt too low cut? Was my jacket too tight? Did I give a suggestive smile that I was unaware of?
But why do I blame myself? Why, in any way shape or form do I think this is my fault? Why do I feel dirty and why do I feel guilty?
The society I grew up with, the so called ‘modern’ ‘developed’ ‘progressive’ society.
That society is not real. IT is made up on paper.
Yes I can vote. And I can drive a car.
But I am still subject to being touched. Harassed. Discriminated against.
So this modern world, where does that exist? I’d like to know. I wish someone could show me. And I wish someone could teach the men of the world this universal truth.
My body, my choice.
My body. My choice.
Since when has that become a revolution?
But if it is so, I am here and I am ready to fight that revolution.