growing

Written by Gabby MassonPhotography by Tori Tiso  we are all given a fabric when we are born  tailored to each skin, each hair, each home / told this is the only thing that will keep us warm / parents swaddle us / fabric protects against the coldi grew / the fabric grew with me / twisting tight around wrists / weigh me to the groundbut i grew taller / and the fabric frayed / lusterless  i admired shelves of color / the purple-blues of the south african sea warmer than this country i glanced around / shivered / noticed things previously hidden from me / men had fabrics thicker than mine i imagined painting colors across my body that no one had ever seen i sit down at the sewing machine / rip apart different fabrics / hem together new ones choose colors for / the blood that flows out of me / the grass that once grew outside the childhood home i will never go back to / the mottled bruises men have left on my skin / the water and food that will nourish me, feed myself until i’m full, not skinnyshed the fabric stapled to your skin / change the fabric / rip the seams / pull roots from the ground and mend them in between discard what you’ve been given / make something new in order to be free