Once upon a little bit of my teenage years, I used to be very wary of going out.
Some parts of my body.
I grew up with my brothers and the only times I got reminded about our differences was when we had to use the bathroom or change our clothes and it was okay.
Society made me aware of how big I was growing even before I knew it. It came in different forms. One adult commenting about how tall I am becoming. Another trying to grab me while walking on my street. Another adult calling me his spouse. All of them, non-related to me by blood. Strangers, connected by access and space that I had little or no control over.
My face remained the same but my body was growing so I began to hide it in baggy clothes. Skirts were the worst. No matter how free and big it was, someone would still see and say something. I’d walk and put my hands through the bottom of my tops to push the material out so it wouldn’t stick to my chest. It was hard.
The adults around me were very much concerned about my academics and staying with the right crowd. The right crowd wasn’t the problem as I create my own adventures. The crowd actually had to be careful of me. I’m not your regular. But it didn’t matter. I couldn’t stop growth, a natural process of life. Society didn’t help that much too. While I was able to hold my own on the streets, their words were like seeds. The more I dwelt on them the more I watered them and gave them room to bloom.
They bloomed and started to choke me from the inside. I began to believe that my thighs are too big. Nose too narrow. Head too small. Forehead too jutted. Lips too wide. Teeth too perfect. Eyes too seductive. Feet too small. All of this equates not beautiful.
Until one day… One word, few verses and everything began to change.
It’s a series. Real stories. Lessons. Don’t miss any.