I don’t believe my body belongs to me.
I started seeing someone, kind of on the hush hush; it’s
been a really enjoyable secret. Our public outings rarely see much PDA, which
is fine because despite the size of Los Angeles, this town sees and knows
everything and likes to gossip ad nauseum. Despite my very public persona, I am
not ready to be the center of gossip.
One evening, we were out at a bar that I’ve been to several
times, enjoying some live music. I’m no regular but I do recognize a handful of
people who are kind and welcoming.
Every single one of these people, all genders, touched me in
a way that I suddenly felt very strangely about. A man, accompanying me on an outing, was surely
watching me interact, and normally these hugs that sometimes meant a kiss on
the cheek, a lingering waist grab, extended hand holding, shoulder grooming,
hair fluffing….and did I mention another kiss on the cheek…surely these moves
must have made him uncomfortable. Because I felt that my body, and all its secrets, I reserved for him, yet suddenly, it was not
mine. It belonged to anyone that felt they wanted to comment, flirt, or just
touch me. (I mean, my hair is amazing, I get it…but do you need to touch it to
believe it’s real?)
In that evening, I became acutely aware of how my body was
not my own.
Could I just be projecting my insecurities on to a new
person I’m trying to impress? Perhaps. But here’s another example of how my
body, NOT in my date’s presence, doesn’t belong to me.
I walk into my place of business and am greeted by a sales
person who comments on my short shorts, “Damn girl, those legs for days!” accompanied
with a lingering hug.
My body is not my own.
Other female comedians have grabbed my hands and wrists just
to share a discussion of our sets.
My body is not my own.
I finished a speech at a Planned Parenthood fundraiser and men
and women would hug, put their hands on my shoulders, or hold my hand to share
their similar experience.
My body is not my own.
I walk into my mother’s house and she comments on how
healthy or thin I look.
My body is not my own.
Friends will say “Your face/arms/neck/stomach looks so thin!”
My body is not my own.
This amazing body moves about different spaces, stages,
stores, homes, mountains, sidewalks, parties, concerts and yet, simultaneously,
it is as if it is free to be touched or commented on at any time.
How can this be? After all, I am the one that walks around
in it controlling where it goes. I am responsible for this body. I feed it,
clean it, exercise it and dress it regularly. I am the one to take care of this
body and yet, somehow, my body is not my own.
And that is some bull shit. All that care...is a lot of work.
To take back my body may mean complete isolation, which
would be awful for the soul that this body carries around. The only thing I can
think, is how much more aware I am when I touch or comment on other’s bodies. “Girl,
I know you’ve been working hard…you look great!” or touching a waiter’s arm to
get a closer look at his awesome tattoo may not be the best way to connect to
another human. I don’t know what the best way is…but everyone is different. And
I can at least ask.
Because your body belongs to you, and how you take care of
it isn’t up to me.
I couldn't really find any songs that had to do with the topic on hand, so anything body-related was going to take the cake. There are so many songs about women wanting to get-it-on, which is amazing. I chose Olivia's song becase the music video is one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
As an after-thought to this writing, I cannot imagine the
frustration plus size people feel. They take care of their bodies too, but now
suddenly these bodies are not just portals for connecting with other humans,
they are the targets of negative comments and inappropriate grabs…and not just
on the body itself, but how that individual chooses
to take care of that body.
