The more I practice self-care and self-love, the more I realize just how key being a rebel is.
No, I am not talking Molotov cocktails or saying the word fuck in polite company.
(At least not all the time…)
The more I live, the more I realize that the current culture will never give me the permission I long for to live a life of inner wholeness, external integrity, pleasure, and fun. I will be forever standing on the corner of life with my hand out, waiting.
When I first got into body positivity, so much of my energy was focused on changing the view of mainstream America on what constituted beauty.
I thought if I just showed enough statistics that fat was not tantamount to unhealthy, outlined how white supremacy contributed to the idea that dark skin was ugly, and assembled the perfect powerpoint slideshow on the ills of the patriarchy, people would understand and change their minds.
And I could love myself.
I didn’t always know I was doing this. Sometimes my waiting was really unconscious.
I stressed self-love but inside I was waiting on Sports Illustrated, the dudes I saw at the club, Ford Model Management, and Vogue to agree with me before I set forth on truly living and believing in my beauty.
Believing in myself before and away from the permission of the greater society felt dangerous and every time it seemed like the external world disagreed with my inclusive idea around beauty I was shook. I so needed their agreement.
Today, I know better.