What do you think you’re looking at?
Ha!
You sound surprised to hear us speak. And yet for as long as we remember, you’ve conducted conversations with us. Stared at us as though we were the sentient things that were capable of moving this world.
I know why you do it. We are soft targets. And don’t make the mistake of thinking of that word in the sense that tickles your cheap, adolescent fantasies.
We live in a strange world indeed.
Breast feeding offends you. Bare breasts exposed for your pleasure do not.
Have you ever thought about how much your gaze offends us? When your eyes seem to strip us of the layers in which we are enfolded.
Look at us now. Why do you shrink from our gaze?
We are not afraid.
We have faced the cold, hard steel of the mammogram, flinching only slightly. We are after all human.
But your gaze demeans us. Turns us into objects.
Ha!
You sound surprised to hear us speak. And yet for as long as we remember, you’ve conducted conversations with us. Stared at us as though we were the sentient things that were capable of moving this world.
I know why you do it. We are soft targets. And don’t make the mistake of thinking of that word in the sense that tickles your cheap, adolescent fantasies.
We live in a strange world indeed.
Breast feeding offends you. Bare breasts exposed for your pleasure do not.
Have you ever thought about how much your gaze offends us? When your eyes seem to strip us of the layers in which we are enfolded.
Look at us now. Why do you shrink from our gaze?
We are not afraid.
We have faced the cold, hard steel of the mammogram, flinching only slightly. We are after all human.
But your gaze demeans us. Turns us into objects.
Compartmentalises us.
Ever stop to think about how you treat us?
We are groped.
Pinched.
Nudged.
Slapped.
Forced to squirm because your ego gives you a bigger sense of self.
Compelled to shrink into walls and corners, lest you view our confidence as an invitation.
And yet, we were the ones to give you warmth, comfort and sustenance when you needed it.
Ever stop to think about how you treat us?
We are groped.
Pinched.
Nudged.
Slapped.
Forced to squirm because your ego gives you a bigger sense of self.
Compelled to shrink into walls and corners, lest you view our confidence as an invitation.
And yet, we were the ones to give you warmth, comfort and sustenance when you needed it.
It is a game to you, this horrible treatment of us, this flagrant disrespect of our feelings.
We upset you. Because you can’t pin your tiny brains on the fact that we could as easily straddle the worlds of motherhood as that of sexuality.
Unlike your kind, we do not measure our worth by size. We nourish and nurture. Ourselves and the world.
What is that you said?
Don’t you dare call us those names. Those mono-syllabic no-words you use to demean us. We could call you names too, but we were raised better. We believe that people are bigger than the sum of their body parts.
Treat us with respect. That's all we ask. We are sick of carrying around the guilt that should be yours. Why should we go around feeling assailed by a sense of shame when you look at us with your dirty gaze?
We upset you. Because you can’t pin your tiny brains on the fact that we could as easily straddle the worlds of motherhood as that of sexuality.
Unlike your kind, we do not measure our worth by size. We nourish and nurture. Ourselves and the world.
What is that you said?
Don’t you dare call us those names. Those mono-syllabic no-words you use to demean us. We could call you names too, but we were raised better. We believe that people are bigger than the sum of their body parts.
Treat us with respect. That's all we ask. We are sick of carrying around the guilt that should be yours. Why should we go around feeling assailed by a sense of shame when you look at us with your dirty gaze?
What's that you say? You weren't looking at us? We're crazy to think you'd look at our drooping, sagging shadows of our former selves?
You're not even capable of admitting your guilt. And that is why we have been carrying it for you. But no more.
Of course, we’re not perky anymore. We’ve nursed too many young ones for that. Our milk has flowed like blood in their veins, a living river that rushes through their bodies. We have the power to nourish life, and we have used it, and we are exhausted.
Of course, we’re not perky anymore. We’ve nursed too many young ones for that. Our milk has flowed like blood in their veins, a living river that rushes through their bodies. We have the power to nourish life, and we have used it, and we are exhausted.
But we're still perfect.
We are the timelines of our lives.
We are the timelines of our lives.
We made you what you are.
Look at us now.
Why do you shrink from our gaze?
