People be like, “Oh, you’re reducing womanhood to just having a vagina.”
The fact I was born with a vulva was the entire baseline of the sexism I faced growing up and still face every day.
It’s not some abstract identity or feeling. It’s the brutal, physical reality that shaped how the world treated me from day one.
So don’t tell me womanhood isn’t tied to the body when that body has been the frontline of every fight I’ve had to survive.
I love my body, if I’m being honest: Like, thank you for carrying me through all this kind of love.
But it’s also just a body. It’s weird. It leaks. It gets sore. It’s lopsided and unpredictable at times, my back hurts a lot.
Because it’s human, my vessel, not my whole story.
But unfortunately, outside factors have tried to disrupt that and tried to make me distrust this body.
Tried to convince me it was too much, too little, too wrong, too dangerous, too female.
They taught me to flinch at my reflection and to see my body as something to fix, cover, offer, or hide.
All because I have a vulva.
Not my words. Not my thoughts. Not my heart or how I treat people.
Just the fact that I was born in this body with these parts and suddenly the world decided what I deserved.
Pain. Shame. Control. Violation. Comparison. Dismissal.
They built entire systems to punish me for being born with organs I didn’t choose.
And then had the audacity to tell me I was reducing womanhood by naming the body they’ve spent centuries trying to control.
So yeah I’m a woman because I have a vagina.
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