in memory of her face

Some days, I look in the mirror and get angry. I'm angry at the weird light purple scars, at the faint lines that have started to form across my forehead, and the new red bumps that appear mysteriously overnight. I get angry and wonder why it's happening to me, why I can't have the beautiful, smooth skin of so many that I know.

Then I see something like this. (sorry you'll have to copy and paste the link, but it's worth your time)
http://nmvsite.com/terrorism-thats-personal


Not just to have skin that it isn't riddled with deep acid scars, but also because I had the chance to grow up in a place where something this horrible wouldn't ordinarily be ignored. Where it might not even have happened in the first place.

I take the liberties I have been given as a woman for granted sometimes. Seeing this article and thinking about these women and their stories has made me remember why I should be grateful today and everyday. There is a monologue in The Vagina Monologues called "In Memory of Her Face"; seeing real examples of these terrible monstrosities is so much more real than reading about it. These are real women who grew up in a real world--our world--and this is the reality that they have to live through every day.

I will pray for them and I will think about all the ways that I can be thankful in my own life for what I do have. I might not live a smooth, airbrushed life, but I am so lucky. I can't ever forget that.