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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The geography of his flesh: things you didn’t want to learn, but learned anyway.
This isn’t about you. This is about all the women and all the girls. This is about him and all the things boiling inside his head.
You learn to hate the sound of your own voice at an early age, when you’re a girl.
I am no longer the hidden girl, waiting for men to cast a light on her. I am a woman who has just walked into a halo of her own making.
It’s about me and my younger self and the way she looks at me, the way she keeps calling out to me, demanding answers I don’t have.
They made it very clear that the world wouldn’t stop for you and that it was your responsibility to make it slow down, but no one ever gave instructions beyond that.
You don’t forget your first. You never forget the boy who taught you how to survive as a stranger in your own body.
nature demanding to be heard, felt. The whirl of the wind against tree leaves, soil swarming underneath your bare feet. Insects buzzing and twigs creaking. The wetness of dew on your ankles.
You nod. I believe you, you want to tell him like a pledge, like a sermon. I always believe you.
