Who owns my body?
Born as a woman in a patriarchal culture
Sometimes I have no voice
When in debt, it was me that they sent to work as a migrant worker.
No one asks: do I really want to migrate?
No one asks: am I strong enough to leave my young child to go to work?
Or Am I afraid of going to a foreign country?
Will I return safely?
Actually, who owns my body?
God gave it to me, but someone else controls it.
Today I heard the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman.
Jesus spoke to the woman with respect.
Jesus respected her body, accepted it, and did not control it.
From Myanmar, Pakistan, Malaysia, and many other Asian countries, I have heard many heartbreaking stories.
Sacred stories that shared. These women’s body that being control by the corrupted system, the domination power, I realized that, it was my body too.
It was my body in the faces of little girls forced into marriage, in the faces of adult women carrying heavy burdens, in the faces of those unpaid migraine workers.
And then I saw helping hands of sisters and brothers, like the hand of Christ speaking to the Samaritan woman.
Thank you, sisters and brothers, for stepping in with me.
For sharing stories and reminding me that I’m not alone.
That in the deep struggles of oppression and when I felt there was no way out, you are always there, sit with me, listen, and roll away the stone with me and made it clear to me: this is my body, no one has power over it except me.
