She is not just a body.
She is an individual,
with an identity of her own,
with dreams, desires, and a life of her own.

She is not an alien
you are seeing for the first time in centuries or decades.
So why do you look at her with such strangeness?
Why do you objectify her body parts?
Why do you make jokes about her shape,
as if her existence were nothing more than something
to be looked at, judged, and ridiculed?

She did not come out of the blue.
You were born from her.
You are a part of her.
You were once nourished by her.
Your very existence began within a body
that you now find so easy to objectify.

She is not an object without feelings or senses.
She is just like the woman who taught you how to walk,
who cooked for you,
who held you when you could not even understand the world,
who cared for you before you were capable of caring for yourself.

And still, you find her strange.

You find an opportunity to objectify every inch of her.
You turn her existence into an object of desire,
a subject of ridicule,
something you believe you can claim, control, or violate.

You disrespect her very existence.

You rape her.
You kill her.
You throw her away,
as though she were nothing.

You were born from a body like hers,
yet every day, every hour,
monsters violate bodies like hers
as if they were nothing more than toys
to be used and discarded.

I do not know when she will finally be free.
Free from such monsters.
Free to live with dignity.
Free to exist without fear.

Without the constant fear
that someone might grab her,
violate her,
and leave her somewhere
where she is forced to question her own existence,
her worth,
and her right to feel safe.

I do not know when that day will come.

The day when she can step outside at night
without being afraid of the vultures
roaming the streets,
waiting to prey upon her flesh.

The day when she can finally breathe freely,
at any hour of the day or night,
without constantly looking over her shoulder.

The day when she can smile with her whole heart,
when her laughter is not interrupted by fear,
when her freedom does not come with conditions,
and when her existence is no longer a struggle
for the most basic human dignity.

I do not know when that day will come.

But I hope it does.

I hope the day comes
when she is no longer defined by her body,
no longer judged by her appearance,
no longer threatened for simply existing.

The day when she can finally live
as a human being,
with dignity,
with freedom,
and without fear.

Thank You for reading….

She Is Not Just a Body was originally published in Bitchy on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.