An Open Letter to the Guy Who Slapped My Butt and Told His Friend He Would F**** Me

Dear boys, 

I am not your toy. 
I am not your plaything, your pawn, your pretty little painted doll to push around. 

I am not sub-human. 
I am not un-human. 
I have feelings and thoughts and emotions and fears surprisingly similar to your own. 

I am not blind. I saw the once-over you gave me, lecherous eyes scanning every curve. 
I am not deaf. I heard the "mmm that's nice", mentioned in an aside to the other guy with you, as though I wasn't even there. 
I am not made of stone. I felt your grasping greedy hand reach over to grab what wasn't yours to touch. 

I have been catcalled many times, touched in passing, groped and abused, but never - never - never - have I felt dehumanized to the extent that you made me feel today when you behaved as though I wasn't even there. When you acted and spoke as though I was a pixelated woman in a porn reel; unable to hear your commentary, unable to see your glances, or to feel your touch. 

You will probably never know that as i walked away from you, head held high, my finger sharp nails dug into the soft palm of my hand until they drew blood, to avoid throwing my steaming chai latte at your face. I bitterly regretted forgetting my pepper spray. 
You will never witness the panic attack I had, ten minutes later, finally off the streets and back inside the building where I worked. There, unable to dismiss the feel of your hand and the look in your eyes from my mind, I finally broke down in solitude - yet couldn't shake the fear that I still wasn't safe. 

I couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than the sum of my physical parts, the sway of my hips, the shape of my breasts. I couldn't shake the haunting lingering knowledge that a person looked at me and didn't see a person. They looked at me and saw a walking sex object, a less than human, lower than even an animal. They saw an opportunity to slake their lust, a body with nothing that feels; a shell, no soul a-tremble. 

And I? I am so much more than a mannequin. I am made of stronger stuff than a store-bought sex toy. I am a fierce heart and a soul forged from steel to survive; and just like you, I am human.

I am alive. 

I exist. 

I think and feel and love and bleed and cry and laugh and there are those I would die for and those who would die for me. And should you dare try to dehumanize me, I will stand up and I will shout loud enough for the whole world to hear that I am here and I am alive and I will not be made any less than I am by someone such as you 

And, in truth, I half pity you. I pity you a culture which has taught you that women are nothing more than objects to be used and discarded at your pleasure. I pity you eyes which view a woman with less respect than you would grant an animal, and a strength wasted in worthless sensuality. I pity you a life lacking in the shared love and mutual respect between equals as man and wife. 

But...while I pity you, while I decry and disdain your attitude and actions towards me, I also challenge you. I challenge you to defy them. I challenge you to look me in the eye and see me. I challenge you to remember, when you look at me, that I am so much more than an inanimate object for your wandering eyes to rove. 

I am ambitions and I am dreams. I am hopes and I am plans. I am late night laughter and early morning sunrise sneaking over the mountains in the distance. I am the books that have changed me forever and the songs that move me to tears. I am summer night blazing bonfires and winter hot cocoa curled up in my father's oversize armchair. I am awed wonder at the tender touch of a newborn's silken skin and I am sitting silent soaking in ancient wisdom. 

I am war and I am peace and I will fight to the death for what I believe in. I am opinions on everything from high heels to heartbreak and I am nothing if not human. 

I am every inch a woman, every inch human. 

And I dare you to treat me as such.

{on Freedom and the Fourth}

{for freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm, therefore, and
do not submit again to a yoke of slavery}

does anyone else have moments of fervently wishing that they could go back in time and tell their younger self things that they now know to be true? 

because i do

see, this day in 1775, a document was formally adopted, signaling the end of America's allegiance to England, almost a year into what would later be known as America's "War for Independence"

but in that moment, the signers didn't know the extent of the struggle which would soon ensue. they didn't realize the sacrifices which would have to be made, the hopeless nights far from victory, the battles lost and battles hard-fought won. 

all they knew, in that moment, was that we are endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights, and among these rights are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; and as soon as a government becomes detrimental to those aims, it is no longer one which promotes freedom, and thereby categorizes itself as unqualified, and it is our duty to protect and preserve and fight for freedom. 

therefore they were willing to pledge their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor in pursuit of freedom, not knowing whether they would live through the upcoming war, but believing that it was worth it. 

freedom was worth any sacrifice, countless danger, endless fear, wars won and wars lost, fortunes wagered, lives lived in turmoil until peace was wrought at last.

it would always be worth it. 

fast forward 239 years to a young girl standing in the lobby of a Virginia college, leaving summer camp, looking up into luminous blue eyes regarding her with infinite compassion, as he continues to maintain that she is still 'unhealthily thin' because remaining trapped in a mindset of 'must not eat' is not freedom;

and she turns away with tears streaming down her cheeks, unwilling to believe him when he says that health is incomparably more attractive than a gap between her thighs; that recovery is hard but it is possible.

 it is worth it. 

because that same girl, a year later, joins her family for their annual Wimbledon marathon, a smile on her face, bowl of popcorn in her open hand. 

that same girl has lived through the same thirty pounds lost and gained, a back and forth battle between the light and darkness, dancing on the edge of giving up, and only grown stronger.

that same girl enters the house yesterday to her mother commenting that 'you look...happy', and hugging her mom with the reassurance that 'it's because i am'

that girl....is me. 

and if i could go back in time, to the girl that i was only a short year ago, there is so much i have learned that i wish i could tell her. 

i wish i could tell her that freedom feels so much better than bondage in the long run, even though it's so hard now, even though it will be the hardest fight of your life to try to be free... it's worth it. 

.....above all, i wish i could tell her that it's worth it. 

it's worth it for days like yesterday. days of love and laughter and conversation, catching up over bubble tea and frozen yogurt and Chinese food and Starbucks. 

it's worth it for the week i spent with Matthew and Amy without our lives revolving around what i could and could not would not eat. 

it's worth it for the week spent at camp without Brandt babysitting me to make sure i consumed enough calories to avoid passing out on the field trip, in stark contrast to last year, and thereby taking one more responsibility off his already-overloaded plate.

it's worth it for first tastes of venison at the Edmonstons and partaking of normal portioned meals without worrying whether or not it would make me fat. 

it's worth it for foregoing the isolation of spinach salads in favor of a burger and lunch with Leah, learning to make new friends, to take advantage of the time we have together

it's worth it for fresh fruit and yogurt after early morning runs, the feeling of strength infused through arms and legs stretched to endurance peak

it's worth it for lunch at the cafeteria of the state Capitol with co-workers and senators' chief of staff without packing 'safe' foods, sharing in companionship and camaraderie, fully partaking in conversation and merriment.

it's worth it for watermelon with little siblings since it's so hot outside; teaching myself to make bread from scratch; first successful pie and pie filling; molasses cookies at friends' requests

it's worth it for late night laughs and snacks, Oreos and Twizzlers, as i come to better know the girls i am spending camp week with; as opposed to last year's cornered isolation staying a safe distance away from foods too 'fattening' to be indulged in at such a late hour

it's worth it for ordering from Starbucks for the first time without counting calories to choose the lowest option 

it's worth it for Saturday morning brunch beside Dad, devouring french toast, made with fresh homemade bread, slathered in maple syrup.

it's worth it for spring nights with my brother, climbing out on the roof just before dusk, a bag of Swedish fish between us, and giggling at the way he always bites the head off first. 

it's worth it for finally feeling warm again, pirouetting in the kitchen on legs strong enough to stand, horseback rides and hope.

it's worth it for running up the stairs, and tears of joy that day, remembering times when i was too weak to walk up those same stairs without passing out. 

it's worth it because the best is yet to come, and i still believe that, despite all claims to the contrary. 

because after all that we've been through, and after all we've left in pieces, i still believe our lives have just begun; cause now the past can be outrun, and i still believe the best is yet to come 

the best is yet to come

there are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind, and i am finally tasting the sweetness of this freedom, and i swear that it has been worth it. 

it has all been worth it.

it was worth it all along.