I don't remember the exact moment I realized my body belonged to other people.

Not literally, of course. But socially.

An entitlement. Particularly as a woman who exists in some type of online sphere.

It happened slowly. So slowly that I couldn't point to one conversation or one experience. It was in the lingering stares before I understood why people were looking. It was in the boys who I grew up with who groped my body whenever they got the opportunity to. It was in adults commenting on my body before I had learned to inhabit it myself. It was in realizing that I couldn't wear the same shirt as another girl without it somehow meaning something different.

I grew up in a curvy and athletic body. A body that developed early and a body that people noticed before I wanted it to be noticed. And that's a strange thing… to have your body enter the room before you do. To have assumptions made about your character because of your shape. To discover, long before you're emotionally ready, that people don't simply see your body. They assign a story to it. And they feel entitled to it.

If you're curvy, you must be trying to be sexy. Trying to gain attention. If you post a beautiful photo of yourself, you must want validation. If you feel confident, there must be a price attached to it.

I've lost count of the number of men who've assumed I have an OnlyFans account. Not because I've advertised one. Simply because I exist online in a body they associate with sexuality.

It's fascinating, really. More so, disturbing.

A woman posts a photograph where she feels beautiful.

The comments become:
"What's your OF?"
"Link?"
"How much?"

Even when I have never advertised this in any way whatsoever.

As though beauty itself has become a commercial transaction. As though confidence must always be for sale. And if she doesn't have one? She's mocked anyway.

There is something deeply revealing about that. Not about women but rather about the culture looking back at them.

I've watched women post photos from the beach, weddings, vacations, motherhood, the gym. Even fully clothed selfies. Somehow complete strangers feel entitled to tell them they're attention seeking, narcissistic, or inviting objectification.

It reveals a painful contradiction. Women are told we're supposed to be beautiful. But not too beautiful. Confident. But not too confident. Sexy. But only when someone else decides it's appropriate. Our bodies become public debates the moment they're visible.

One of the greatest examples of this contradiction is our breasts. Something I know all too well as a women who has an ample rack. For centuries they have been treated primarily as sexual objects. Yet biologically, one of their primary functions is to nourish babies. Think about that. The very body part capable of sustaining new life is often considered inappropriate to exist in public unless it's being sexualized.

A woman feeding her child may be told to cover herself. A woman wearing a tank top may be accused of inviting attention. The body is considered offensive in one context and consumable in another. That contradiction has never made sense to me.

Even now, after years of healing, I still catch myself hesitating before posting certain photographs. Or wearing certain things.

I ask myself questions I wish I'd never learned to ask. Is this too much? Will people think I'm asking for attention? Will someone assume things about my character? Will I invite comments I don't want? Those questions didn't originate within me. They were taught.

Because when girls grow up repeatedly experiencing unwanted attention, catcalling, assumptions, unsolicited comments, and objectification, many of us begin monitoring ourselves before anyone else has the chance to.

We become our own censors. Not because we're ashamed of our bodies. Because we've been conditioned to anticipate what other people will do with them.

There is a profound difference between being beautiful and being objectified. Between existing in a body and being treated as though that body exists for public consumption.

I refuse to accept that posting a photograph where I feel beautiful is an invitation for harassment. I have been super fortunate enough to not be on the terrible receiving end of an alogirthm of hateful and violent men. Not to say I haven’t received negative comments, or derogratory comments. I have. but in comparison to some of my friends and peers who do similar content to me. Or even sex work content. The most vile, hate filled comments, for just simply existing. Either in curvy body, but I have even seen it in thin and “beauty standary” bodies as well. I saw this morning, a random FB post about a girl who was asking for a ride to Shambala music festival and she posted her selfie, yes you could see that this woman has breasts, as most of us do. The comments were filled with so much hatred coming from men. My friend Anna, who is a sex worker. The commentary she gets on her posts is the most evil and diabolical commentary I have ever seen. She is an angel and needs all the love she can get so please go show her some love (@thegreekgoddessx) she does a lot of great things for fat women and sex workers. My mutual Jessica Vandale (@jessicavandale) who openly shares about her fitness journey towards better health and wellness. Both of these women simply exist in bigger bodies and are hatefully attacked online for just posting their journeys. And myself too. This morning I woke up to a comment on “seek help and go on a diet” on a post that didn’t even show my body. You can’t escape it. And the internet is certainly getting meaner. Not just more opinionated. But more cruel. People say things to strangers that they’d never dream of saying face to face. We are losing our ability to disagree without dehumanizing each other. And that should concern us all. The culprits are most certainly misogynistic men. But the worst part is it’s not just men that this comes from. Women are just as bad and just as much to blame.

I refuse to accept that confidence is consent. That existence is consent. I refuse to believe that my body loses its humanity simply because someone else finds it attractive or on the flip side, disgusting.

Women deserve to inhabit our bodies without apologizing for them. To wear the tank top. To post the photo. To celebrate our beauty. To feed our babies. To age. To exist. Without every action being interpreted through someone else's sexual imagination or misogyny.

Maybe that's the conversation we should be having. Not whether women should post the picture. But why so many people have been taught that a woman existing visibly is somehow an invitation to possess her or comment on her looks.

There is nothing dirty about a woman's body. The dirt begins the moment someone forgets there is a person living inside it. The internet doesn’t create cruelty. But it becomes an echo chamber of hate that makes it easier to forget the humanity of the person you are commenting on.

I refuse to live modestly because I was given the body that I have. My sexual energy that is inherently mine. I admit I do exhude this. But it is not an invitation for everyone to have it. I don’t mind people looking. We all like to admire beautiful things and beings. But it’s when the commentary or actions become violent, hateful and possessive. This is what society, and men in particular need to reframe their way of thinking. Living in your body. Posting your body (or self) is never an invitation. Nothing is an invitation beyond very clear consent.