Wednesday, 11 March 2009
Wednesday's Women No. 21
I fell asleep this morning to a dream of my younger self. My young self at the age of 11 before I had breasts and at a time when I still believed I could do anything. No one had put the brakes on my activities at this point.
I was an Amazon who jumped out of trees at wild horses. I wore a mask like Zorro and a cape like Batman and I insisted that they be red like the colour of life. I wielded a sword like Kublai Khan and had a bow and a quiver of arrows like every other fairy archer. No one saw me as anything other than a beautiful child.
I was to be my own person. Just as young and free as I always had been but something got in the way of that. Something that others saw, that I did not yet see, something that didn’t matter to me but mattered to them.
My breasts appeared at the young age of 12 and it changed me in the eyes of others. I went from a girl who could jump out of trees to a woman who had to sit with her legs crossed on a chair. From fun and free to prim and proper all within one year.
I learned at 12 how the division of the sexes worked. How girls could be seen as a thing, an object, someone else’s fantasy, while boys were still allowed childhood invisibility.
I realized even at 12 that it was unfair that I now had to be someone other than who I really was, while the boys around me were still encouraged to be whoever they wanted to be. I was stymied just because I had grown breasts.
I promised myself that when and if I ever had children that if I had daughters they would be allowed to be whoever they wanted to be. And that the minute anyone tried to make them feel like objects and change their reality, I would jump out of trees at wild horses and remind them of the possibility of who they could be.