I can’t speak for other generations but I doubt there’s ever been this much pressure to appear happy all the time. Facebook and Instagram are the battlegrounds on which we fight to prove just how happy we are and nobody takes first place.
Beauty isn’t defined by our appearance, its defined by our minds, our souls and ourselves.
Take the pictures. Take them all. If you’re feeling it, take 100 in a row. Soak in this moment and say, “Damn, I look good.” Because you do.
Shouldn’t our automatic response as a society be to commend and praise the young woman for defending herself against a predator? Shouldn’t the headlines say more about how a random man grabbed her and how THIS behaviour is unacceptable?
“My mom takes pictures of every single food we eat and then has to tell her friends about it and by the time she’s done dinner is already gone!”
Body image. Two little words that spark so many thoughts and emotions to absolutely anyone who hears them. Some days you wake up feeling like the hottest person in the world.
We’re queer above all, like it or not.
We are all conditioned. Trump is just honest, vocal about it. Yet we continue to gasp in shock when we hear what Trump says about immigrants, women, but we are really gasping at our own selves, and the prejudices that lurk within us, though manifested differently in each of us.
I’m sorry that everyone around you has bought into the lies, that they speak them as truths and use them as a compass to guide them, a manual on how to see and treat others.
Screw you, twisted society.
I refuse to forget because I want to remember.
You can’t silence, or bruise, or blind me,
can’t rape my spirit or take my name.