I want to save the world. I just stop sometimes, look around, and I wonder if everyone is worth saving. I don’t really want to exist in a society that feels it’s their place to call women who are comfortable with their sexuality whores. I mean, anything more than silent marital missionary warrants prostitution.
This country, which is governed by politicians who insist that rape victims cannot conceive, and even if they did: they shouldn’t have a choice in whether or not to terminate. These men and women who want to govern our bodies; yet, refuse to pay our medical bills. All while pushing to cut funding that feeds children we obviously can’t afford.
I open my eyes only to be met with an entire town rallying around men who gang-raped an eleven year old girl simply because her attire was questionable. Apparently, if you wear a miniskirt, you’re asking for it. After all, boys will be boys young miss. Your mission is to be proactive, because the only reactive support you’ll get is that you should have worn control top stockings.
A media which tells me daily that I should be ashamed of my body. How dare a woman be comfortable with her appearance when it is so far from the grossly unrealistic idealizations of predatory advertisements. Who am I to feel indifferently towards a fat roll here, stretch mark there, or scar? Shouldn’t my mild imperfections consume me? Why would any woman have sex with the lights on, or walk around the house naked when they’re so far from being flawless? When did I earn the right to feel sexy as I am?
Some days, I want to sit back and apathetically watch the world burn.
Other days, I’m too busy putting out flames and teaching fire safety to worry over how hopelessly far it has spread.
– Ziggy (Tina)