Letters on Behalf of the Cookie Cutter Lady

Letters on Behalf of the Cookie Cutter Lady
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Dear Sleeping Beauty,
You suck.
Dear Cruel Intentions,
You lied to me.
Dear True Detective (Season 1),
I was worse off for watching you.
Dear Missing Woman Narrative,
I am not an object or an excuse for someone else's journey. Why do I have to be maimed, or raped, or stolen for a voyage to begin? You quashed my agency. Nipped the bud early -so growth was never a serious option. You took advantage of my innocence.
Dear Paper Thin Female Character,
Are you who I am supposed to be? Obedient and lifeless. Perfect beyond compare. Or otherwise unworthy -of saving, of killing, of fucking. What about my messy complicated bits? Where do I put them now? All my hiding spots are full. My seams: on the verge of busting.
Dear Corporate Storytellers,
Your technique is flawless -seducing even the enlightened and the allies. But do not think you can hide behind artistry, for you too bade me swallow lies about women. You lull me into submission. Convince me to shut up and take it. Make my objectification simultaneously unimportant and necessary.
Dear Men,
I too have dimensions. And jagged edges. I too feel the urge to explore the shape of my being. None of your constructed molds fit my person, and I am tired of contorting to fill someone else's shape.
On behalf of the Cookie Cutter Lady: give me stories about women who are real.
Sincerely,
Rachel Kessler

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