We often forget, as the more mature adults we consider ourselves to be, to think of the little ones. The children whom heavily rely on our understanding of the world, when we ourselves minimally question our behaviors but defend adamantly with an unwavering confidence. But how much of our claim of protecting children is actually true?
Does our empathy have a limit?
As apathetic as it may sound, the answer is a resounding yes.
In light of the recent sexual assault victims bravely coming forth with their traumas, I have a little something for you men, who haven’t physically assaulted a woman but daily harass with your unwanted “compliments” or looks.
I am a woman
The strongest being that withstands much more than any man could ever comprehend.
On a daily basis.
And my struggles are not imagined but rather imposed by a society that attempts to fit, in the newsstands, a variety of body shapes into one prototype:
a 26-inch size waist, voluptuous breasts and bums, with hair iridescently shiny.
And what about the rest of us?
When we are constantly pressured to believe these standards are the wanted ones and our bodies are the wrong puzzle pieces.
How do we love ourselves then?
Many of us have managed to slowly remove the gangrenous roots out of our pretty little heads,
to begin accepting what a unique genetic composition we are.
To go against all beauty lessons we were taught.
And it isn’t easy, there are fallbacks
There are moments where a slight frigid comment regresses our progress to our brainwashed state of mind.
But for the sake of time, let’s say we’ve moved on.