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This is my body.
I do what I want with it.
This is my body.
I make my own choices.
This is my body.
I use it as a canvas, tattoo it, decorate it, and pierce it.
I take medicine if I want to and only undergo medical procedures I choose.*

I have the right to share my body with whomever I choose without your approval.  I have the right to decide whether or not to use my body to make a family, and how I want to use it.   If I get pregnant, it is my right to have an abortion rather than adding the financial and emotional burden of another child to my awesome little family.   My husband and I have the right to determine the size of our family. We have the right to stop having children and to continue to have sex.  And if I was single, I would still have that right.  You don’t have to like it, but until you are here changing diapers, handling middle of the night feedings, and paying for day care, you need to get over it.  My body is none of your business.

I do not need to justify to you why I need to end a pregnancy.  It is none of your business if I am getting an abortion because someone’s precious son slipped a little something into my drink and knocked me up without my knowing that he was even fucking me.  It is none of your business if I am getting an abortion because I don’t have the money to care for a child, or because I just don’t like kids, or because the sky is blue today.  It is none of your business if I am getting an abortion because birth control failed and my doctor has told me that “with your health problems, you should count yourself lucky to have had two healthy children, I don’t advise that you risk your life again.”

If you are not a doctor, you do not have a right to advise me on what to do about my body, period.  If you aren’t a woman, you don’t have the right to decide what a woman should or should not be allowed to do with her own body.  And, even if you are a woman, the only body that you have the right to decide to do anything with is your own.**

This is MY body, not yours.

The only individuals that should be involved with the decisions that a woman makes about her body are herself, her physician, and her committed partner.  Even then, regardless of their opinions and input, the decisions are still hers and only hers. **

Stay out of my vagina.

My body is made up of stardust and dirt–a autonomous gift from the Universe and from Nature.  What I do with my body is my business.  How I paint it, or cover it, or not, is my celebration of my self.  It is my business, not yours, for as long as it does not infringe upon another autonomous being’s ability to do what they please with their body and its contents.  I govern my body, not you, and not the propaganda you would spew as morality.

My sex is none of your business.  How much sex I have, whom I have it with, how I do it, how many…none of your business.  Whether I fuck a girl or a boy or both or ten, or never have sex at all.  Its none of your business.  This is my body, and if I want to delight in the sticky sweat of sex, that is my business and the business of the person that I have chosen to share my body with.  Its none of my business if you only have vanilla missionary sex with your eyes shut while thinking of the homeland, or if you prefer to be tied up and covered in latex.  It is only my business that you have chosen the manner in which you will share your body, and that the person you are with has chosen you as well.  This is my body, and I revel in it.

This is my body and I while happen to think it is my responsibility to show it some love–to decorate, not desecrate…to keep it in good working order by eating healthy and staying active, using the power of my body to preserve its autonomy and the autonomy of other bodies…its none of your business if I don’t do it to your specifications.  I choose how to use the parts of my body–how and where to use my hands to help, my feet to move, my mind to grow, my heart to love, for those people and ideas that I find worthy.  I have a responsibility to my body to enjoy it to the best of my ability–to love it, regardless of how well you think it meets societal expectations.  I have a responsibility to my body to encounter the world and all of its inhabitants, with my senses and my sensibility. In short, it is my make every action of my body a prayer of my soul…not yours.

If I don’t do that in a way that makes you happy, too fucking bad.

My body is the temple of me.  It is a gift of biology and *something else*…and it is my right to determine what I believe that *something else* is and how (or if) I want to worship it.  You keep your god’s rules for your body, I’ll keep my god’s rules for my body.  Because from my body, I dance with starlight and swim with dolphins.  From my body, I worship imminent, imperfect and immortal expressions of the cosmos…I love my children, I go to work, I buy groceries, I play at the beach, and I make love with my husband, all from my body.

The choice of what to do with my body, and how to do it is mine.

My body does not keep you from your place of worship, from your children, from your employment, from your sustenance, or from your pleasure.

I do not think that it is too much to expect the same in return.

I do not think that it is too much to expect the same pay for the same job.  To expect that I get the same training for the same job as a man.  To expect that my ability to do a job be allowed to speak for itself–or not, without your opinion of my gender.  I do not think that it is too much to expect that I receive the same respect as a man in my chosen work place.  Even when–especially when I was serving my country.  I do not think it is too much to not be raped for choosing to serve my country.  I do not think that it is too much to not be harassed for having a “nice rack” and a “sweet ass” in my fucking uniform, or to be chosen for promotion based on how well I do my job, instead of how well I shut up when I’m raped or harassed.  I do not think that it is too much to expect body armor that fits women’s bodies when they go out on patrol.  Its funny how you and your politicians seem to think that women need to be protected until you send them out to get shot at.

This is my body.  These are my breasts, my hips, my thighs, my face, my everything.  My body does not depend on your ideal of femininity.  I don’t need to be a baby factory to be a real woman, I don’t need make-up and a dress to be feminine. Liking sex doesn’t make me a slut. Being a feminist doesn’t make me a whore or a lesbian, or any other word your pundits mistake in as an insult in the pathetic attempt to assert that it somehow validates their misogynistic and chauvinistic drivel.

If failing to live up to your standard of womanhood makes me a slut, then I will claim that badge proudly.  And while I happen to be in a relationship with a man, were I to find a romantic interest in a woman, I’d be perfectly honored to be called a lesbian.  As for being a whore…prostitution generally depends on the participation of men that can’t keep their pants zipped up taking advantage of economically disadvantaged women instead of using their hand.

And while we are on that subject… I will be damned if I am going to let you turn my mother, my daughter, or myself into some second rate citizen because you need the excuse of my body to validate the weakness of your mind.  I’m sorry if you feel that the sight of breasts, hips, thighs, face or everything is just too much for a man’s self control.  Not all men are slavering, uncontrollable beasts unable to keep themselves from rape if they see even an inch of flesh.  Saying that “she was drunk” or “she should have dressed more modestly” or “she was asking for it” or “you can’t get pregnant from ‘real’ rape” or “you might as well sit back enjoy it” or “she was dating/married/whatever to him” makes you no better than the rapist.

This is my body.  If I say no, even in the heat of the fucking moment, you man the fuck up and pull the fuck out.  If you penetrate me with any part of your body, and you use coercion,  threats, or drugs and alcohol, to get me to go along with it, you are a rapist.  There is no such think as being weakened to feminine wiles, or to “the situation”, or whatever ignorant excuse you want to make for your lack of respect for a woman’s body–your mother’s body, your sister’s body, you daughter’s body, my body.

And if you ever think that there is ever an excuse or a reason for rape, or that it is ever the victim’s fault, you are have no morals, no values and no character worthy of my respect.

This is my body.  I don’t need you to save me.  I don’t need you to tell me what to do with my body, as long as its not harming your body.  I don’t need your morality to tell me what I think is right.  And I sure as hell don’t need your morality legislating what I am allowed to do with my body.  If you don’t like what my body does, don’t do it with yours.

I just need you to keep your body to yourself.

This is my body.
I’m through with legislators telling me what to do with it.
This is my body.
Keep your salacious, aggressive, sexist insults to yourself. I’m not listening.
This is my body.
I have the right to marry my partner, woman or man.
To equal pay
To health care
To education
To divorce
To safety
To protection of the law
To respect and dignity
To complete equality
This is my body, not yours.*

I leave your body to you…whether I agree with what you are doing with it or not, for as long as it does not infringe on the rights of another autonomous being.

Do not be afraid of a world in which women know themselves, their voice, and their power. That world has arrived.*

And I will do whatever I need to do to keep it that way for my children.



Edited-to-add–This is not the script of the video, I wrote this, inspired by the video above.  The opening and closing is mostly from the “official” version, and some parts are taken from other posts I’ve written.  I has gotten a number of views and a couple of re-blogs (thank you so much!), which I appreciate.  But…what I think would be really awesome is if everyone that felt touched by this would write their own…and share it.  Every woman’s (and man’s, for that matter) experience of being robbed of agency and ability by virtue of gender, race, social status, sexuality, age, body type, etc is different. Claim yourself and your power!  And share your story.

If you do answer that challenge, feel free to link it here,  in the comments on my blog…and I think the folks on the  “This is my body” facebook page would enjoy it as well.

*from the official “this is my body” (watch the youtube video, or visit their facebook)