It was oblivious, at birth, of the gender it’s going to be in, the religion it will embrace, and the color it would host for as long its cells are functioning together to breathe air. It couldn’t tell that its color would be the focus of my existence when I was just about to start forming wrinkles.
A tender skin; a single organ, our largest organ, hugging the rest of our organs, loving our bones, wrapping our fingers, blinking over our eyes to protect the pupils, growing eyelashes, growing hair, and growing nails. It would have to endure waxing, shaving, underwire bras, and other forms of human-made tortures to conform to society’s expectations and social norms! It would have to survive tattooing needles, piercings, beauty products, makeup, and sunblock. As if the sun is the worst that could happen to it, as if the sun is not the only star that lumines its particles and respects its humanity, and femininity. The skin would sweat instead under the scorching sun, marking its existence with an antidote to the poisonous truths that come from being alive.
Every month, the body will shed blood and flesh from within to weep for what has happened throughout, for the feminine soul within to contemplate on the wrongdoings being inflicted upon its own body! It screams from mosquito bites, scratches, hickies, opposed to the idea that they are called love bites, because to it, they are not love; only marks that remind its molecules of how easily it could be sexualized, tasted, squeezed, and touched only for pleasure. But what pleasure does it get?
It’s sin-centric, called to shed away its sins, to repent, to supplicate for forgiveness that might never come, for the sins it had no choice in committing.
It has to be baptized once and for all, urge its tongue to confess its sins every Sunday, because one must bridle their tongue and not deceive their heart; the tongue is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body, corrupting it whole, setting the whole course of one’s life on fire.
Or it has to be abluted five times a day, covering its hair, its hands never to touch, its voice never to speak, born with a ready-made sin that will never perish because of the simple fact of being a female.