If I cannot choose the food I eat without feeling guilty,

Then my body is not my own.

If I cannot stand in front of the mirror without hating myself,

Then my body is not my own.

If I cannot walk out the door without being too pretty or too ugly,

Then my body is not my own.

If I must be an art object to be loved,

Then my body is not my own.

If I cannot choose the kind of lotion that I put on my face without being told it will make me look sexier,

Then I am not free.

If applying makeup becomes my religion,

Then I am not free.

If I must go through pain to be considered attractive,

Then I am not free.

If I cannot help but compare myself to the woman across the room,

Then I am not free.

If a man thinks that my clothes justify assault,

Then I am not equal.

If my age marks me as ugly,

Then I am not equal.

If the changes in my body are bad,

Then I am not equal.

If I do not earn the same money as my male colleague,

Then I am not equal.



If I cannot be a woman without the makeup, the tortuous surgery, the ridiculous clothing, and the hunger,

Then my body is not my own, I am not free, and I am not equal.

When I can eat as much or as little as I want without the guilt,

When my body is loved for itself, for its own unique curves and changes,

When I can walk out the door and just be,

When I am loved for the whole of myself and not just for my appearance,

When I can apply lotion without having to put up with fabrications of what it will make me look like,

When I can apply makeup to please myself and not to please men,


When beautification is painless,

When I am confident enough to not have to constantly compare myself to other women,

When I can walk out the door wearing whatever I like without fear

When my age is beautiful,

When the changes in my body are simply the cycle of life and nothing more—when these changes can be celebrated,

When I get paid the same as the next man,

When there is a board of women directors with college degrees on their office walls,

When I can be a woman without the makeup, the tortuous surgery, the ridiculous clothing, and the hunger,


When all this and more is a reality and not a dream, a goal, or the future,

Then I will own my body, then I will be free, then I will be equal.