My Body is My Own

As a woman society has some expectations of me, throw in being a pretty, natural blonde and those expectations spiral in a different direction.

From a very young age I have been sexualised and objectified. When I was 8 years old a teenage boy pinned me to the play park equipment and tried to get his younger brother to remove my knickers from beneath my dress as I fought them off.

That same day a boy hit me with bamboo because I was on the swings and he wanted to be instead. His right to them was exercised via violence, (my parents however taught me well and I fought off the older boy and his brother and I knocked the bamboo boy off his bike when I next saw him and was armed with my badminton racket). I soon learnt, I am a profitable saleable commodity.

Young blonde English.

My first experience of a “boyfriend,” I use this term loosely as at age 6 our playground boyfriends are ultimately about cute boys dating the girls who can run the fastest.

Simple times right? innocence and joy? no!

When this boyfriend was dumped by myself, he had 6 of his friends, 3 on each end pull a skipping rope around my neck and play tug of war. Thankfully a grown up noticed! In that same week I remember a boy from an older year chasing me around the playground telling me he was going to shag me to death!

Already my body was not my own. I was defined by my image. Encouraged to play with dolls and make house. Bows in my hair and cute shoes.

When I was 12 and on holiday, a man abroad attempted to sexually assault me and ultimately his intentions were to sell me. I had financial value at the hands of men. Fortunately shortly after freezing in fear as he slid his hand beneath my skirt, I ran and sought help from my nearby parents. I live to tell the tale.

Fast forward to my late teens, I have experienced by now grooming online and bullying by a supposed best friend because I wouldn’t have a threesome with her and her boyfriend. My worth and value lay with my sexuality and my reservations rendered me obsolete.

My body was not my own.

I am a good cook, a homemaker, self sufficient. My life thus far had set up with the skills of any traditional housewife. I would be able to clean the house in a flash if my drunk angry husband is coming home and know just how to tip toe around conversations that might upset and result in a raised fist.

I learnt how to be the quiet woman. Just in case.

Fast forward again and I am in adulthood, a woman. I’ve experienced drunken lewd remarks been told I am slut when I politely refuse the drink.

I’ve had my drink spiked on 2 separate occasions.

I’ve had a boyfriend so manipulative and controlling that he literally told me that one day I will stop “playing at work” become his wife and give him a family. No question or concern for my feelings on motherhood.

This same man also told me that if I was to fall pregnant before his intention for me to be pregnant, (again not my decision) I was to not bother him with the inconvenience, hassle or stress of a pregnancy scare. I must simply quietly go and sort it out myself.

A man was deciding when I should or shouldn’t work, what I should wear, when or if I should get pregnant.

My body was not my own.

I sat in a nurses office and explained to the woman I didn’t want the contraceptive injection anymore, I wanted to go back to the pill as the injection was making me gain weight.

“Do not be silly,” I was told and she injected me against my will, my body was not my own.

I discussed career options with co workers and when undecided I was told I should go and start a family. I have ran my own business, been a teacher, literally saved lives. Yet in previous careers, I have lost out on promotions to men or women who have had their children already.

I had to fight with my GP to have the contraceptive implant removed despite how sick it was making me.

My body was not my own.

I am also a capable strong independent woman with a voice.

“I am outspoken and fierce and commanding“

Strong intelligent and well read. I am caring and have a strong moral compass.

Yet men and even other women, tell me how I should think and feel and that I am hard work for being opinionated or provide anything other then a quiet pretty face to look at or forcibly have sex with.

So often in life we are not allowed to choose, our bodies they don’t belong to us. Some Men will make female issues their issues and tell you you’re over emotional, irrational or straight up wrong.

Know this isn’t a man bash because women wrong me, shame me and make choices about my body too. I don’t doubt or hide from the fact that men experience inequality and judgement too but this post isn’t about you or about those issues.

It’s about how me as a physical being in my own skin, because I was born a female, have had expectation thrust upon me and have repeatedly found myself fighting to protect myself because more often than not the rights or views of my very being have been at the hands of another.

Now I am a dominatrix and I call the shots. I say what goes and how you can feel about me. I hold the power and control what you see of me. I vow to stand up for myself and for other women.

Being a Dominatrix has connected me with incredible women and allowed me to become empowered and forthright and more confident in my body than ever before. I will no longer allow others to dictate for me. I often think to myself “I am a dominatrix” and think of what I do and have achieved and I stand taller as a result.

No longer will my opinions “only be okay” when validated and approved by a man. Equally a submissive can and should be empowered, kink should teach us all up about safety, trust and consent. I am beyond grateful for all that Kink has taught me.

My body is my own and I decide what happens with it!