Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman

by Lindy West

Maybe you are thin. You hiked that trail and you are fit and beautiful and wanted and I am so proud of you, I am so in awe of your wiry brightness; and I’m miles behind you, my breathing ragged. But you didn’t carry this up the mountain. You only carried yourself. How hard would you breathe if you had to carry me? You couldn’t. But I can.

My body, I realized, was an opportunity. It was political. It moved the world just by existing. What a gift.