When I was in the second grade, I quit ballet after two weeks because I felt self-conscious in my leotard.
It’s the first memory I have of judging my body. I vividly remember thinking about how I looked in my leotard compared to my classmates, of feeling like I wasn’t enough as I was, that I didn’t fit in with everyone else.
My body has taken many forms, from being “chubby” as a kid, going through puberty, average weight as a teenager and young adult, obese after the pandemic after I started new psychiatric medications, and its current iteration.
We decided to do this issue to celebrate body diversity in the queer community, to share our minds, where we’ve traveled along life in our physical forms. We are more than just our bodies.
And as my body has changed over the years, I’ve thought about what has stayed the same.
Whatever is in my head: my consciousness, the neurochemistry of my brain, what some people would call my soul.
I have even thought about my mortality.
Imagining that one day my body will eventually decompose, and make its way back into the earth.
I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis almost three years ago, so I think about what I might lose that my body has given me over the years that I took for granted. Will I be unable to walk, will I go blind? We will all eventually lose that whenever death takes us, but those of us with chronic illnesses realize loss of function may come sooner than our death.
Thinking about the finiteness of my lifespan makes me think about my body image issues as trivial. But anyone, especially coming of age with unlimited access to social media, with constant messaging of what we should look like, if we want to be loved, or feel worthy, will tell you that it can feel all-encompassing at times.
I am so thankful to everyone who agreed to join this September issue, to bare their skin and stories to us.
I hope you enjoy it. And as you read, I hope you think about your own relationship with your body and self, as well as your relationships with others and your community.
Mary Rasura is 25 years old. She is a multimedia journalism major and sociology minor at FAU set to graduate in December 2024.
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This story is for OutFAU, our student publication covering Florida Atlantic University. To see more from OutFAU click here.
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