How funny it is that when you describe a girl you call her pretty, call her beautiful, call her gorgeous.
Our girls grow up with the only compliments they receive to be ones remarking their bodies and yet we wonder why we can't get them to eat.
They grow up believing wither consciously or unconscious they are judges by the bodies.
That the size of their jeans is their caste.
That if they aren't pretty they are nothing.
Our little girls slather on the makeup and step into their heels smile till the corners of their mouths crack as if life was a beauty pageant and success and happiness were prizes to be won.
When you describe a boy you call his strong, call him tough, call him powerful.
Put the weight of the world in his hands and hope he can handle it.
Our men lead the way and our girls follow.
Why when you see a girl you never call her intelligent, call her resourceful, call her powerful.
Imagine a world where little girls weren't just bodies.
They were the daughters of destiny and the friends of fate.
They could do anything, and they were told that from the second they could listen.
Imagine if our girls could look past their bodies, could pus aside shame and hate and learn to love the vessels.
Imagine if our girls were powerful.
