I was taking a walk with Aisha, my friend from Beirut, one time when she said,
“Let’s take a photo the Lebanese way! Stand like this.”
I did as she said and I thought I must’ve looked funny, and that people would think I was a slut because I was trying to flaunt my breasts.
But when I went home and looked at the picture I couldn’t see those things I was thinking about earlier.
I could see just one thing:
Another version of myself with her back straight, not slouched.
It was a version of myself that wasn’t ashamed of her body.
There are days when I see that version of myself, like when I find myself wearing something nice.
Something that not only looked nice, but that didn’t hide me.
Something that made me feel like a beautiful woman, not a 10 year old who’s afraid of walking down the street alone.
