i’ve been working 3+ years in a job during which i’ve seen hundreds of women’s bodies in a medical context

lemme tell you a thing

women are fucking hairy, ok? i’ve seen women covered with hair from their ankles to their armpits. women with super visible pubic hair that approaches their bellybuttons, regardless of race/ethnicity. we have hair absolutely everywhere and our public image as women is totally devoid of this reality. 

men really have no idea how hard women have to work to make ourselves hairless. it’s as unnatural for us as it is for them but this is something that doesn’t even cross their minds as they emerge from their caves looking like unwashed wookies not even aware of how much they’re just allowed to exist.

25 things women should never have to apologize for:
1. Her bodily functions
2. Not being feminine or girly
3. Loving how she looks
4. Having an abortion
5. Not wearing make-up
6. Being single
7. Not settling in relationships
8. Having body hair
9. Her bra size
10. Being outspoken
11. Having a high/low/non-existent sex drive
12. Putting herself first
13. Her body weight
14. Not wanting children
15. Saying no to a man
16. Having a pussy that smells like pussy
17. Being smart
18. Her age
19. Having a resting bitch face
20. Not wanting a relationship
21. Having a higher paid job
22. Her mental illness or disability
23. Not aspiring to be pretty or sexy
24. Demanding gender equality
25. Her womanhood

i only want to be a woman if i can be a monstrous woman, a hideous woman, a fat woman, a barefaced and undecorated woman, an opinionated woman, a legs-unshaven woman, a face-unshaven-too woman, a comfortable woman, who exists first for herself and not to make others comfortable.

what’s the point in being a woman if i’m not allowed to be an autistic woman, a disabled woman, an unashamed woman, a woman who says yes and no and means each one? where’s the joy in womanhood if it constrains me so tightly i can hardly breathe?

i want to find out what it means to exist as a woman fully and without constraint, to be a woman without men, to be a woman who is loved and valued and accepted without having to struggle to be small and weak and delicate and decorative enough to make men comfortable.

if i can’t be a lesbian, i can’t bear to be a woman at all!

The idea of “trans women” reduces womanhood to a set of misogynistic stereotypes about women.

The female body is not a stereotype. And there’s nothing negative about being a person who exists in a female body. There’s nothing wrong or bad or inferior about existing in a female body.

Existing in a female body doesn’t have to be defined by a set of misogynistic stereotypes–like having a nurturing personality, being sweet and sensitive, liking cute things, enjoying getting dressed up, etc..

Every woman, that is, every person who exists in a female body, should not find herself limited to a certain set of roles that men have assigned to her.

Women are rough and rugged, women are loud and assertive, women are wild and hairy and covered with scars, women can be anything and everything we want to be, and still be women.

But if womanhood was defined by existing in the female body, then these mentally ill men wouldn’t have their feelings validated!

No, trans women, just like all men, are invested in enabling patriarchy to exist. Without patriarchal gender roles, trans women have no way of claiming themselves to be women or marking themselves as women.

the idea that womanhood is a certain mentality or personality type is misogynistic and reductive

the idea that womanhood is the lived experience of existing in the female body is not reductive, it means us women–people who exist in female bodies–can have any type of mentality and any type of personality.

womanhood is not femininity.

femininity is the cultural construction.

womanhood is the lived experience, a state of physical existence.

At times I needed
my friends, 
more than I needed myself,
more than I ever needed 
a man. You see, 
I would get so 
homeless without 
them. So unpoetic. 
They were the love of my 
life. 
I was so goddamn 
melancholic withiout them.
Sweetly pathetic without them. 
They were my temple, 
my place to go
when I needed forgivness.
Chocolate and kisses, 
soft touches on my body.
I would have chosen them 
over 
and over again. 
Our phone dialogue
were movie scripts,
manuscripts of hours,
hours of poetry.
They were my muse,
and they knew it. Till the bone.
I wrote them down like
I owed them all of my poetry.
At times they used me,
and I was there to be used.
At times I used them
till my sins were theirs.
—  My Girlfriends Were The Love Of My Life by Royla Asghar