Dear Body
Words by Mariana Cid de León Ovalle
Body, I am
Body, I feel
Body, I thrive
Body, I ache
Dear body,
When we were little we played without worry
Then one day we grasped onto the window sill of our playroom
slamming against the wall, with full force, and into a jolt of pain.
“Son tus pechitos,” our mom said.
As we pressed down on the aching buds under our fingers.
Feeling betrayed at the change we were not ready for.
Our brothers, swinging on the window sill,
slamming onto the wall.
Not in pain. Still unchanged.
Art by Marisol Rios
We went to our room
let our pillow catch our tears
And mourned the freedom we once held near.
Sometimes, we dream of having no breasts
Because they swing, and hurt, and sweat.
Sometimes, we dream of having no uterus
Because it also hurts and sweats.
Because it is a portal of creation.
The experience of bearing weight on it
is as beautiful as it is intense.
We dream of not having streams
of our own fluids pouring down our legs
every time we laugh.
Pouring down our chest
evertytime we sweat.
Art by Marisol Rios
We dream of not having memories as sharp as a knife.
Our family calling our hips “fat”
after having spent the summer
being young
on the streets of Monterrey.
Eating tacos with friends
adding curves to our Barriga.
Then calling us “muy pero muy flaquita”
After a boy broke our heart and the sadness in our chest
chipped away at the curves of our waist.
It was never enough, we said.
Convinced that these changes were leaving us dead
inside.
We have a strong need for perfection.
An ever-flowing spring fueled by fixation.
It is a stream of indignation.
Dear body, you deserve to hear
that it’s your right to loathe
the words that were used against the skin of your folds.
It’s okay to feel
the discomfort
because it’s real.
Our experience is as human as birth and death.
For the spirit and body are forever in bloom,
And true joy can only exist when it springs from the two of you.
The spirit and body.
A truth that spans throughout human history.
