By: Whitney-Jocelyn Kouaho (’20), Staff Writer
Illustration by: Nzinga Simmons (’17), Staff Illustrator
Boobs don’t make a woman
Boobs don’t make me a woman
Two lumps of fat
and some bra straps
Don’t make me a woman
What makes me a woman?
Is it my tactful ability to nurture?
Is it my merciless ability of striking down my opponents—
With my intelligence?
With my unique beauty?
With my fears written on my core?
With my doubts embed into my past?
With my joy scrawled onto my skin?
Does that make me a woman?
Or is it my indispensable need to work harder?
My extreme need to believe much more!
My gaping need to want it increasingly more!
Than my male counterparts?
How about my power of holding the fruits of life within me?
My power to create another.
My power to furnace ideals into a fresh face.
My power to harness uniqueness in my offspring.
Only for them to see me as a pair of breasts?
But really isn’t it my right to choose for myself?
My right to determine for myself!
My right to decide what a ‘lady’ is!
My right to delegate my fate—
Or is self-determination only for few?
What makes a woman is what literally makes a woman…
Every woman holds a unique set of mannerisms,
of ideas,
of beliefs,
of skills,
that’s a woman.
So don’t tell me to SAVE THE BOOBS!
Don’t tell me to save the tata’s
Don’t tell me that the battle will be won based off of the status of my breast!
Because I am a woman!
A human being!
Every woman’s attributes are created in the brain—
Not the breasts
So, no we’re not planning on saving the boobs
Let’s plan on saving the person
Because a bra can’t maneuver womanhood.
