Three Things I Learnt From Body Positive Activists


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I’m not sure when my journey of self-acceptance was finally affirmed in the images I saw. I do remember that this aha moment came with a flood of relief. The revolution was being televised, tweeted and retweeted.  ‘Would this be this generation’s equivalent of the burning bras?’, I wondered.

Perhaps it was when I walked passed a shop display with Winnie Harlow’s Diesel campaign. She stood in the centre with a look of absolute joy on her face, her vitiligo a bold proclamation of her uniqueness. She had a look that dared you to tell her she wasn’t beautiful but a knowing expression that suggested she knew she was gorgeous with or without your approval. It was breath-taking.

I got home and forced myself to look at my own hyperpigmentation mark on my leg.  It dawned on me that a mark I had spent three decades of my life obsessing over; a mark that had been lazered, injected, covered with make-up, (but still stubbornly refused to go away), was as much a part of my identity as any other part of my body. Cue the Viola Davis cry and giant tears of joy and self-acceptance.