01 -- Whose Womb

Never once in my life have I felt that I have to define my relationship to my body. The eyes of society made sure of that. Because my body never belonged to me. That is, my womb never belonged to me. Society owns it. Because no active womb, no society.

Are you having kids, they ask you now, time and time again. Once, years and years ago, they told you not to have them. Don’t, by all means possible. Keep your legs closed. Don’t. Shame. Shame, shame, shame if something happens — not to you. To the society. To the family.

Then suddenly you are supposed to have them. Turn it on. Now. Turn that womb on. Stop thinking about you, about having a life, a sovereign life of your own — that is selfish. They scold you in public when you don’t. It is not your decision to make. How dare you, who are also us, who are also your own people, stop. It’s we who decide — your forefathers and mothers. And when you won’t be able anymore, we will discard you.

Peri? What peri? It’s in your head. Go take a walk. But I have pain everywhere, every day, and I don’t have energy anymore — what is happening to my body? Oh, you are too young for this. Go home and keep menstruating. Maybe there is still some egg yolk left in you. Maybe you can still provide for society. Bring us more workers. More slaves.

After witnessing Tracey Emin at Tate Modern, 16 June 2026