An exploration into self acceptance

I remember vividly the first time I truly thought about my body and the weight of what it means to be a woman in today's society. I was 11, it was a suffocatingly hot day, and I was deciding what swimsuit to wear—that's when I was told to dress modestly, not to wear a bikini, so that I didn't tempt men.  From that moment, the message seemed clear: my body was the problem. It wasn't the men and their leering glances; it was 11-year-old me. 

I learned from an early age that purity was of the utmost importance, both internally and externally, and modesty was just one facet of that. Perhaps as an extension of that, as I grew older, I began to wear the same general outfit every day: jeans and a sweatshirt or T-shirt. I always wore my hair in a ponytail. I was terrified to try something different, to stand out in any way. As Girlhood by Melissa Febos said, "In school, I learned to talk less. I moved slower and hid my body in oversized clothes."

The truth was that my body often felt like it belonged to others, rather than to myself. I quickly perceived that there was a box I needed to fit into, and I knew all the right things to say and do to belong, even if it didn't always align with how I actually felt. It was much more comfortable and safe to simply let people see what I wanted them to see, rather than all the aspects of who I truly was as a person. 

Realizing I was a lesbian was initially one of the most devastating moments of my life—it was suddenly impossible to force myself to fit into a box that already felt like it wasn't made for me. I didn't know how to proceed or what to do, I was terrified that my very being was a sin, and for so long, my solution to the lesbian 'problem' was to hide myself even more so that people wouldn't see who I really was. 

It was a slow process of self-acceptance, and even when I did start to accept and maybe even embrace aspects of my identity and sexuality, it was tentative, scary, and daunting.