I Hate This Body 

I hate this body. I hate it but not in the sense that I’m not comfortable in my own skin. Not in the self-loathing, insecure, human ‘I’m so fat & ugly’ way. I hate this body for all that comes with it & all it prevents me from doing. I hate it for the sole reason that it makes me weaker (or at least perceived in such a way). I hate that I can’t fully be the person I want to be because of it. I hate that I’m supposed to fear men and hate it more that there’s a good reason for it.

But what I hate most is the realization of the fact that the purpose of my creation is secondary. God created Adam then Eve. He ultimately made us to please men & bear their children. 

You carry a “precious jewel” between your legs. One that’s more precious being untouched, but even after, remains of some value. As long as men exist, that thing between your legs, the sad reason for your imprisonment, is desired. As long as you carry what they desire (for the length of your life), you’re not safe. And as long as you’re not safe, you’re not free.

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