A few minutes after I posted a photo of myself, back to the camera grabbing my backside I got a text from my best friend. Dude, you should probably make your IG private while you are job searching. I agreed with her, I probably should. And for a moment, I considered it.  

I imagined a hiring manager clicking on my website, and then one of the links to my social media. She would gasp and clutch her pearls at my proud proclamation of body acceptance, thinking my photo inappropriate for a Director of blah blah blah at Yada Yada University. I imagined my offer letter being ripped up and the hiring committee laughing out loud thinking assuredly they'd dodged a bullet by not hiring the candidate whose plump natural ass was there exposed for public (visual) consumption. I imagined when I wake up tomorrow, I would probably have a text from my mother stating the same thing as my bestie. I imagined how many people thought that thought, and then I wondered why it never even crossed my mind.  

I had engaged in this process before. Going back and forth in my head standing firmly on both positions "Public" or "Private" was not new to me, it was a consideration I had every single time I wrote a blog post. And, more specifically, when someone I was newly dating found out I was a writer. What do you write? They would always ask. I would send a link to a specific post. Some would read that post and it would stop there. Some would pour themselves over my writing remarking at how much of me existed in my words. It was always interesting to see what potential suitors would with seeing how bare I was so publicly. Then my mind would begin the panic. What if they see what I wrote about an ex? Or what if they judge me for being in a same-sex relationship? What if they read about the assault?! The latter statement had been one that crossed my mind in terms of job searching as well. What if they learn too much about me and decide that I'm just too much? And then I would go back to the things I told myself immediately following my rape. I told myself I would not carry the shame of my experience. It was the single thought that allowed me to navigate the murky waters of telling my story. But this photo was not about putting down shame, this photo was about overcoming doubt and being full of self-pride. Actually, I am not sure if the two are different, now that I think about it. 

She told me she was being paranoid for me. I thanked her and told her it was a perfectly reasonable consideration. It was. It is. Social media has become a beast with the reach to go beyond our intended audience or without its initial context. I knew it was possible for my photo to be misconstrued as something other than a proclamation of the way I felt about my body in that moment. Then, I wondered if I was as cool with myself as I said I was, why I needed the photo to be public in the first place. The thought did not bother me in the slightest because I knew why I did it. I'd been writing about my body and my journey with it for a decade. I'd been documenting myself and my relationship with my body, visually, for longer than that. I did it all out loud not for applause, but because I've come to understand how my journey impacts others; and serves as a sort of healing balm.  

So I left it up. I interrogated myself endlessly. Is this about your ego? No it does not feel like it. Are you using purpose as an excuse to escape responsibility for your actions? No, I recognize there are always consequences to my actions. Particularly when those actions defy social norms. Are you being self righteous? Waving the flag of feminism in the air as a guise to protect your pride? I stood on a soapbox in my head proclaiming how unfairly women were treated in the workplace. Challenging professionalism and hair style limitations, dress code, and in general ways of being for a woman in the working world. I let it all cross my mind and I picked up and examined each thought as though they were pebbles in my hand. 

Finally, I came to write; knowing that by the time I finished writing I would have arrived at an answer. And, at least for now, I chose for it to stay. I chose to have at least the weekend to celebrate my body publicly without worry or concern that someone would see it and judge me for who they believed me to be. i give myself that much not because I needed it, necessarily but because I wanted it. I wanted to feel sexy. I wanted to feel beautiful. I wanted to write earnestly about my struggle to love my ass and my whole self and how this photo was an attempt at that love. I wanted to be able to show that with friends and yes, even strangers on the internet, because I am set on fire by courageous acts and hearing accounts of other people's kindling. I selfishly did not want to think about jobs or other peoples opinions of my actions, for a moment, I just wanted to be a woman who was in love with herself, out-loud and unapologetically. 

And because I am human, I certainly reserve the right to change my mind. Decide it was too much too far and perhaps too distracting from my pursuit of employment. Or perhaps the ability to be true to myself in my moments is a deal breaker and I don't want to be in relationship with any person or institution that would judge me negatively for a picture so rooted in self-love. I didn't know what the right answer was, I only knew what was in my heart at that very moment and if ever I had a change of heart, I reserved the right to choose a different choice. That was what I wanted. The choice. And. Because of that, it remains.