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Summary
Despite advocacy calls and awareness for equal rights. Women still face discriminatory opinions and judgement with regard to their bodies. Living in a patriarchal society makes it more difficult as a single change in their body awake unwarranted opinions and wayward beliefs about them.
At some point in her life, a woman will stand before a mirror, press her fingers to her breasts, and sigh. She has learned that the world will place her body parts on a scale of contrived perfection and find her wanting. Always wanting. Her body is a kingdom at war with the jagged opinions of faceless trolls, and her breasts are the fallen statues that never survive.
I will never forget the week Osas came visiting, and we decided to go for a swim. In the changing room, we were taking off our clothes and slipping into our swim-wears when she reflexively looked at her breasts in the mirror and sighed. “It’s really coming down, Ife. People will think I’m wayward.”
People; the faceless tribunal that shames a woman for the fall, then scorns her for lifting it with a surgeon’s scalpel. The ones who ignore biology—skin elasticity, weight, genetics—reducing the female body to a site of judgment.
Women inherit this cruelty like a birthright. They tug at their bras, adjust their angles, and whisper apologies to mirrors, knowing their bodies will never fully belong to them. It needs to stop. If a woman has fallen breasts, let her have them in all their fallen glory. Let her be. Her body is neither a monument nor a battlefield. Also, a woman’s breasts belong to her, and it owes the world nothing.
