We are told the story of Eve as though it is a warning. She was curious. She reached for knowledge. She wanted more. She took a bite, and the world has been blaming women ever since.
We inherit shame long before we understand desire.
A woman who is comfortable in her body is often mistaken for a woman seeking attention. A woman who enjoys sex is still judged more harshly than a man who does. A woman who says "no" is difficult. A woman who says "yes" is reckless.
My name is not Eve. But I ate the apple.
I wanted to know my body before someone else told me what it meant. I wanted to understand desire without reducing it to something that belonged to men. I wanted to be seen as a whole person and not just as a fantasy.
My name is not Eve. But I ate the apple.
I smiled when I wanted to scream. I apologised before speaking. I dressed for safety instead of joy. I questioned my own instincts before questioning someone else's behaviour.
My name is not Eve. But I ate the apple.
I am allowed to take up space. I am allowed to age. To gain weight. To change. To be desirable or not. To be sexual or not. To show my body or keep it covered. To choose.
My name is not Eve. But I will keep eating the apple. Again and again. And with every bite I choose myself.
