Does Your Body Have A Story?
By Robyn De Leon
Never have I ever looked in the mirror and said: “damn, you are a goddess.” Never have I ever looked in the mirror and repeated the opposite. Never have I ever recognized the power my body holds. Never have I ever realized the intimacy it symbolizes. Never have I ever had a conversation with my body, because never have I ever considered it alive like my mind.
For most of my life, my body, as a single entity, was something I was generally indifferent towards. I had some insecurities about how hairy I was, but I never worried over whether I was too fat or too skinny or whether I’d be able to do things or not because I was privileged in this part of life by having an "average" looking and functioning body. It was just a thing that did my bidding. It helped me eat, sleep, and shit amongst other things, but it was something I thought I controlled. I don’t think I ever really even considered the intimacy my body holds. I never considered the power that comes from a female body itself without anyone's control, not even my own.
To me, my body was just a vessel I used to travel through life. I dressed it up for whatever personality I was feeling or I dressed it down to bathe and pamper as needed in hopes of clearing my mind, but my connection to my body has never really been spoken about between myself and it. It has never been something I considered apart from my identity or my mind. It has never been something I believed could have autonomy over itself when in fact it does.
Lately, I have been doing shoots with friends where I have been slowly exposing the regions most whispered about by doing nudes and half nudes. Because I'm new to these artistic practices of expression, these actions have been peaking the fear and interest in me. Pushing my comfort zone was forcing me to face myself and have a conversation about why I’ve treated my body with such dismissal. Why am I afraid to expose myself to the world? Why do I think my body is not important enough to be seen? Is my body just as important as my mind?
Why is it we praise humanities minds, but disregard the extraordinary things our body do on their own without consent from our thoughts? Can't bodies be separated from their objectification? Not just the objectification of the being, but of the body itself in general?
My cells move and multiply, my blood rushes all day, and each chemical is so complicated but performs the simplest things. On the outside, my nipples feed humanity, my pussy creates war and my curves arouse men, but these are things I have never been told. It’s been through the journey of artistic and philosophical endeavors that has brought me to a point that I now realize my body isn’t just a slave to my order, but a tool that I must care and exercise whether that’s physically or internally as I do with my mind when I read books or learn puzzles.
I think I put off treating my body as its own for so long because I have never been taught not to fear it. I have never been taught equality amongst my body and mind I have been taught to contain my body, to rule over it like a harsh tyrant. I have been taught to conceal and ignore what society considers ugly of my physicality and told to make up for those shortcomings with letter grades and diplomas, but not enough realize that our bodies are just as strong as our minds. Whatever body you have, it carries your identity, your mind, your potential abilities even if you consider yourself not able at all! Just being a physical being, being present is a statement that can be just as strong as words. The story of your body matters to those it's meant to matter to.
The pen is mightier than the sword, but this pussy still pops more.