I Denied My Femininity

So I wouldn’t have to deal with objectification.

Photo by David Matos on Unsplash

I distinctly remember that one day in high school.

I remember reveling in the strong muscles of my legs. These were legs that resulted from my 6 years of martial arts training.

I made a solemn vow to myself I would never bleach my hair blonde, or get breast implants, or join a sorority. I never wanted to learn how to cosmeticize a smoky eye or subject myself to what I perceived as the many painful tortures women went through for beauty.

I never wanted to owe anyone my attempts at being beautiful, because I didn’t want to have to be beautiful to be accepted, desired, or loved.

The sensations inside of me that day were strong, powerful, and compelling.

I felt called to live life with a larger purpose than chasing superficial beauty or serving as the decoration in someone else’s real life.

These promises to myself made me feel strong and independent.

I was getting ready to leave central Pennsylvania and to head to Los Angeles to attend school at the University of Southern California. This sounds goofy in retrospect, but the Pauly Shore film Son in Law had come out the year before, and I felt like leaving small-town PA…