This Body Is Home
This boxy is a box. It is not me. When you trap my identity in labels of gender, regional feature, skin colour, this body makes me feel like a prisoner.
Body image, Beauty perceptions & standards, Sex, Sexuality, Reproductive health, Physical fitness
This boxy is a box. It is not me. When you trap my identity in labels of gender, regional feature, skin colour, this body makes me feel like a prisoner.
I got a haircut, my first since the pandemic began. And these are the conversations I have with my mirror.
I thought about people who hit me. In plural. I experienced enough before adulthood. Yet at 23, when a man I loved hit me, I knew something was wrong.
Lockdown necessitated home haircuts. But it feels like surrendering hope. And atop my head, there is mayhem. What hairy sorcery is this?
If you were in drag, what would you be like? And where does the drag stop and where begins your identity?
I made my first big purchase in this COVID-19 year. I bought an epilator. Actually, I replaced my old one that finally gave way in May, in the style of all essential devices going kaput right under lockdown. I felt really guilty about missing my epilator so much these past…
When a group of people say Stop erasing us, they are saying that they exist, they are not abnormal, not deserving of less.
There is a sense that the Saree Wearers’ Club is an exclusive one, limited to women who are married or of a certain age, have a certain body shape and even they wear it in certain ways & on occasions only.
What is it about our dressing that incites such violent responses in other people? Do we find it ourselves in response to other fashion rebellion?
In how many ways shall I experience grief? I watched THAPPAD and thought about all the people who have hit me. In plural