slur4slur
there is a woman lying on the bed. she is beautiful. looking at her, i can't imagine thinking anything else, and i am overwhelmed by it. and she has a body like mine. a face not unlike my own in certain ways, though i don't think of it that way when i look at her. and i can't stop thinking how beautiful she looks. i drink it in. in that moment, i can't help but feel beautiful too.
when our eyes meet, i know she sees a woman looking back at her, in a way i can never be as sure of with someone who isn't like me. without this shared experience of womanhood, there's always the worry they see something else. sometimes less, sometimes more, but it's always there. but i know this is a woman in front of me, so i know that's who she sees too.
and i know the world has hurt her in a lot of the same ways it has hurt me. none of us become ourselves without having to fight for it. not without having to fight just to survive, in ways that are practically impossible to communicate to someone who hasn't experienced them. and yet here she is. so i understand how vulnerable she is in this moment. and it's hard not to be a little more understanding towards myself in the wake of that, because i'm here too.
in a world that wants you to feel like a monster just for existing, i think there is real power in loving someone like yourself. for me, it's been healing in ways i never anticipated.
i don't plan on being done healing any time soon.