xxx

2002

after crying and washing down the silver stars lining her eyes and scarring and tearing her stomach and thighs in the prettiest patterns, the mother finally smiled down at her bundle of miracles. full. healthy. kicking. normal.

2005

her tiny body covered with a mustard yellow dress printed with miniature daisies. the frilled straps grazing her collarbones. three mogra flowers slantly fixed in her shining black waves.

she stood before a mirror and looked straight through. melanin and magic stared back. her skin was the colour of her favourite things. the earth and the chocolates. she liked to call herself 'the earth'. she liked to think that one day flowers would grow on her.

2006

3:29 am. the earth swung through the night. the moon shone. the earth reflected the light. the untouched earth. untouched by men. untouched by her own father.

2009

there was always a new magic on the other side of the mirror. this time the magic was in her chest. it was expanding. it was growing. it was cleaving deeper everyday.

“are my flowers blooming, mother?”

“ no, honey. your breasts are growing. they will stretch your skin and weigh you down but you are strong enough to carry them as a woman, aren't you?”

in the earth's brain, seven years old humans with breasts were still called girls [ not women ]. she did not want her breasts to grow just yet but she waited for her flowers to bloom.

2012

a number of unbearably strong waves hit her lower belly. blood dripped down her brown thighs as she cried out in pain. her mother kissed her forehead and weakly smiled down at her.

“you are growing so fast.” fast indeed.

“why does it hurt?”

“the earth hurts when her flowers die.” the words, in no time, created permanent dents on her inner self.

“but my flowers haven't bloomed yet.”

“you are no earth, young lady. flowers do not bloom on human body. it only feels the pain of their untimely death. you must learn to bear it.”

2013

through the years, the earth grew immensely. so did her chest. she knew it the day when their eyes lingered below her neck for a moment longer than welcomed.

“isn't your chest size way more than it should be in your age?”

“i started developing earlier.”

“is that even a thing?” the earth wished she knew.

2015

as the years passed, no flowers bloomed on her body. hair did.

“there exists a thing called razor.”

2017

“aren't you a little too old to still keep them?”

“when are you finally getting rid of them?”

2018

“if you're not going to remove them at least wear something longer to hide them.”

2020

another mustard yellow dress printed with miniature daisies. a little tighter around her chest. the laced hem falling an inch and a half above her knees. the earth again looked through the mirror. her melanin and her magic, that she had seen all these years but still hadn't gotten enough of, stared back.

this time the magic was on her arms and her legs. the magic that people mistook for flaws. the magic that her mother had discouraged her to believe in.

the flowers had finally bloomed on the earth. not in the way she had expected. unlike any previous magic, the growth of this one was her choice. and she decided to let them grow for a little longer.

>

a note to those who have ever asked or wondered about my body

I am eighteen. I am brown. I love my melanin. I call it my magic. My chest size was more than it should have been. I had begun my menstruation before most girls around me. I had a curvy figure in the age I should not have had it. I never asked for any of these magic. I had to learn to bear them on my body anyway. Yes, I have body hair. Yes, I still haven't removed them. This magic will not go away until I ask for it. I will ask for it eventually. But for time being, I will let this magic stay. I will let these flowers grow for a little longer. Thank you for taking your time to wonder about my body. Thank you for showing me that it is precious enough for you to wonder about it. I hope you will find magic in your own as well. *sunflowers*