I was lying in bed last night having a think about a lot of things, I’ve had a lot of wonderful comments lately (hi Priya) about the fact people can see how much I’ve grown as a person lately, and that means the whole entire world. I don’t want to end up repeating myself here because I know I’ve said it in other posts but I really am just coming into my own lately, I’ve cut off all the external pressures to truly just live life by myself, for myself, and it’s so freeing.
I’m so inspired, I have so many ideas whizzing around my head I don’t know where to put them all down. I’m falling in love with myself. I’m doing things and thinking things and having the realisation that wow, I am so in love with my mind. I love my thought process, I love the way I view things, I love how eager I am to teach myself things and to learn, to be aware of myself and of others, I’m falling in love with all of it and thinking wow, I never want to be anyone else, my mind is so open and creative I never want to be anything other than this. I feel so empowered. I’m being a woman, with stretchmarks and thick eyebrows and freckles and messy hair, I’m buying feminist art to put on my wall, which is already filled with photographs of those who inspire me and motivate me to do better. I went through Instagram and unfollowed people who didn’t inspire me and instead went and followed a whole ton more of feminism and human rights accounts – I mentioned it before in this post but I’m very aware of the things and the media that I expose myself to now and I always make a conscious choice to ensure that it’s something good, something inspiring.
I’m learning, I’m educating myself on famous women throughout history, the struggles of black people, colonisation, everything. I want to be so educated and so aware of it, I’m reading books about racism, I’m learning how to properly advocate for the causes I want to fight for. I’m getting new tattoos that represent who I am, I’m listening to music that makes me feel free. I’m creating, creating and creating. I’m filling the space with love, light and a whole lot of energy. This is acceptance, this is representation. It’s the realisation I’ve always had inside of me that I was born to do something bigger, that I was born to fight for the things and people that need it. To fight for myself, as a woman.
When I was lying in bed last night thinking, a wave of anger flew over me as I realised that the world had made me hate myself for who I was. I’m 20 years old and I’ve spent all of these years hating myself for not being good enough, not being skinny enough or pretty enough and so on.
But actually, who the fuck cares? I don’t. Deep down inside, I have never cared, it’s only the rest of the world that has made me care – has told me I should. I never cared about my small lips until Kylie Jenner didn’t like hers and decided to get lip fillers. I didn’t care about having long hair until I realised it’s deemed more attractive in a woman. I didn’t care about the little uneven dip on my nose until people started getting non-surgical nose jobs. I didn’t give a shit about any of these things myself, but the rest of the world made me feel like I did. Like I needed to, it’s an ugly industry that feeds off of our insecurities – how else would they make money and be successful otherwise?
Weight is such a boring topic and for 20 years of my life it seems to have been the epitome of my existence – my whole being revolved around it. But you know what? It’s so fucking boring. Who gives a shit about what your weight is? I am so, so sick of having the conversation. I am so sick of constantly talking about food and weight, of people bringing it up, moaning about it, counting calories, feeling guilty for eating things. IT’S SO BORING. I cannot think of anything more tedious than talking about weight. I do not give a flying fuck. All I’ve ever done is scrutinise and hate myself over it but you know what? I didn’t even want to, I didn’t even care. The world made me feel as though I had to care. That I had to count calories and worry about how flat my stomach could be. I don’t fucking care. I’m so bored of it and I’m no longer going to have the conversation.
Now that I’m truly coming into my own and fully discovering who I am, I’m realising a lot of things that I’ve always known but have never really had the courage to explore properly. When I think about what type of person I want to be, what type of woman I want to be, I want to be magic. I want to be fearless and wild and unapologetic for who I am. This is not about pitting women against each other or comparing them, this is just my personal preference of who I personally would rather be-
Would I rather be a Frida Kahlo or a Kendall Jenner?
Would I rather be an Amelia Earhart or Gigi Hadid?
Would I rather be a Zenda or an Alexis Ren?
Frida. Amelia. Zendaya.
I want to be like them. These are the women I want to be.
Like I said, this is not about pitting woman against each other or comparing them because we are all equal however, this is just my personal preference of the person I want to be. Do I care if my lips aren’t as big as Kylie Jenner’s? No. Do I care if my stomach isn’t as flat as Gigi Hadid’s? No.
I know who I want to be. I want to be educated, aware, fierce, fearless. You name it. I want to be it, and I am. I’m going to be. I want to be remembered for my mind, not my face. I want to be remembered for the words I spoke and the way I made people feel.
As a woman our whole existence seems to only revolve around the physical and I’m like hang on a second, what about the rest? What about who I am as a person? What about who I am in the very depths of my soul? Who was I born to be? I come from a fucking galaxy of stars that died so I could be here today, there’s literal stardust running through my veins all so I could sit here on Earth for the sole purpose of being attractive to men? To look pretty? To have a flat stomach and see how many likes I can get on Instagram? OPEN YOUR EYES CHLOE. LOOK INTO YOUR MIND. There’s so much more to myself, to all of us, than just the physical. The universe created you from magic, pure magic and you’re going to spend your short time here on Earth worrying about what other people think of you? Worrying about how many stretchmarks you have?
What about your mind? What about the fact that I have a million feelings that run through me deeper than the ocean? What about my empathy? The fact that I can listen to someone speak about their problems for less than a minute and will already be in tears because I feel their pain and want to help them? What about the fact I want to fight for minorities, animals without a voice, people of colour, women who are being silenced. What about that? What about the fact that my heart is so big it sometimes feels as though it’s going to crush me whole because I love and hurt simultaneously so much at the same time? What about the fact I’m a writer? The fact that I want to inspire and help people? To love and accept everyone that comes my way?
I’m tired of allowing myself to be brainwashed by this crazy world we live in without even realising it. That’s not who I am. This is who I am. A writer. Someone who cares about others, someone who wants to help, someone who wants to be educated on the world around them and the people in it. I want to know black history, I want to read about the incredible women that have gone before me, I want to understand what I can do to save the world we live in. One step at a time.
I’m so open and so accepting, my purpose isn’t to be attractive or any of the other superficial bullshit that goes along with being a woman. I want to go against all the stereotypes and the restraints that have been put upon us – I want to be a Frida. A soul having a human experience. I’m here to absorb, learn and change. I’m here for the better and for the greater good. I’m here for mother nature and the universe, I’m here to be everything I know I can be, not what the world tells me I should be.
This is about fighting back, this is about changing the world we live in for the people who have gone before us and the people who will come after. We owe it to them to make a better world. It all starts with you. This is for my future children, for my daughter, for my daughter’s daughter, for all of the incredible women that will be here long after I have gone. For the incredible women that were here long before I was, the women who died so I could vote. This is for them. This is for you. This is forever.
The world made me feel as though I wasn’t enough, but I am. I always have been.
And so have you.
All my love,