Body Temple/Body Dysphoria

Content Notes: Includes brief mentions of messed up relationships with food and lots of discussion of body dysphoria, particularly that which is based on gender. Please take care if this content would be triggering for you.

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I decided early that the social messages we receive about our bodies are bullshit. At eleven, I was furious at the world that sent my best friend on a series of diets urged on by her mother. At thirteen, I was heartsick watching another friend disappear, shrinking down between nibbling at the cracker she insisted would be her entire lunch. At fourteen, I declared fiercely that bodies- my body, my friends' bodies, the bodies of everyone, everywhere- were sacred.

Supported by this core belief and committed to keeping my relationship with my body positive, I experienced very little of the tumult common to teenagers. I didn't diet and encouraged my friends not to, either. I refused to count calories or weigh myself obsessively. I stopped shaving my legs and armpits at fifteen. I learned the basics of makeup and then only brought it out for special occasions. All the while, I told my friends how beautiful they were.

The problem with my breasts came later. 

I've written at length elsewhere about my process of coming out as genderqueer, so I won't rehash it here. Suffice it to say that at some point between "Huh, maybe I'm a little genderqueer" and "I'm here, I'm genderqueer, get used to it", my relationship with my breasts got complicated. With buzzed short hair, masculine clothes, and no problems using my body to take up space, I'm a fairly transmasculine individual. (Most of the time, at least. Sometimes I like pretty things.) My chest came to be a locus for people's assumptions about my gender identity. Which is really just a dressed up way of saying most people think boobs = woman.

I resent that. And it is really, really difficult to keep that resentment from spilling over into resentment of my breasts/ chest itself. Whether I get tangled up in my head all on my own or someone does or says something that makes me feel on display, my chest can be tricky. It hurts that it should be hard. I want to inhabit my whole body, my whole self, joyfully.

I have some tools to keep connected to my sacred body when the dysphoria is kicking up. Some of them date back to adolescence, some of them are newer. Mostly, I've found that being in my body takes determination.

• Take a deep breath and envision healing light flooding the body part causing your dysphoria.
• Or, place your hands over the body part in question and do the same thing.
• Repeat out loud to yourself, "This is my ________ (gender) body, the is my ________ (body part)." So, for me, "This is my genderqueer body, this is my genderqueer chest." Make it a mantra.
• Notice how you're holding yourself. If you're tensing or twisting somehow to minimize whatever body part is causing you distress, consciously relax. You get to be comfortable physically and emotionally. 
• Stare down anyone who looks at you in a way that makes you uncomfortable.
• Visualize your entire body, and let yourself take up all that space. 
• Remind yourself that inhabiting your body does not change your gender or give anyone permission to misgender or otherwise hurt you.
  

I hope these ideas help you stay safe in your sacred body, regardless of how else you are feeling. How do you fight negative social messaging about your body? Share in the comments.

Crossposted to Everyday Sacred