l'origine du monde, 2026
a self portrait
when I had just given birth, so many professional healthcare workers examined my body. I didn’t mind; during that time my body felt like a vessel, no longer mine.
in a strange way, it was liberating
They asked for consent to check, to see, to touch, all within such a short and vulnerable moment of my life. At a certain point I thought: please stop asking. The mental space it took to consider whether to give consent cost me more energy than the checks themselves. Just do it, I thought.
When they looked at my scar, they said: Your scar is so pretty, you won’t even see it when it heals.
and I remember feeling stunned. Had anyone asked whether I wanted the scar to disappear? It is proof that I gave life. Why would I want it to fade?
when they looked at my belly they said, so… when did you get these stretch marks?
In the last three days of my pregnancy, I answered.
Ah, such a pity, they said.
This is what it looks like now. It is still healing, and maybe it will fade one day.
I hope my new tiger skin does not fade. I hope I will stay proud of it for the rest of my life.
