I am someone who was told their whole life that being “sexy” was sinful… don’t show too much skin, you might excite the male gaze. When in reality – that “male gaze” shouldn’t have been looking in my direction anyway.

I surrendered so much of my power to people who told me that I wasn’t “hot” or “sexy” because I didn’t fit the stereotype of what the female body should look like. I surrendered power to people who told me that I couldn’t dress the way I wanted, look the way I wanted because it was “sinful” and I was inviting the “male gaze” with how I looked. I made myself smaller and less than I was because it somehow meant “men will only want one thing” from me because of how I was behaving.

Sexy is an empowering feeling and I allowed other people to tell me that I didn’t “deserve” to feel sexy. The messaging I received was that I needed to adapt my look and behavior to what was “acceptable” and “appropriate” without regard to how I wanted to look and feel.

I was scrolling through Instagram and saw a model call from a local boudoir photographer, in an effort to boost their portfolio and online presence they wanted people of all shapes and sizes to come in and be photographed. I hesitated, I’d thought about doing boudoir photos in the past but the messages I’d received my whole life told me that I wasn’t good enough. I’d had so many people and voices in my head telling me that I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough, sexy enough to be photographed like that especially if the photographer was going to be using it as a way to boost their portfolio. No way would they want to use me as a model.

But then there was my own voice in my head, after many years of therapy and healing, telling me that I was good enough. That it’s okay to be me. That being me was good enough, that she was sexy and beautiful and all the things I’d been told I wasn’t for so many years weren’t true. So, I answered the photographer’s call for models and set up a time to go in to their studio and have a bunch of photos taken.

And I’m so glad that I did because I looked AMAZING! It was an all afternoon process of getting my hair and makeup done first then going to the studio and getting the actual photos taken but the photographer was great and really hyped me up for every shot. It was incredibly empowering and freeing. This was something that I was doing for myself and only myself. I needed to shut the voices down that I’d listened to for so long and this was one way to do it.

Taking back your power after trauma is hard and you’re going to doubt yourself along the way. That’s okay. Your reptilian brain is processing the information first and not letting you realize that you have all the power now. You may not have had it before but you have it now. Go forth and reclaim it!

I’ve been seeing a TikTok trend recently where people use part of the “That’s Not My Name” song by The Ting Tings and overlay the wrong “names” they’ve been called. It’s a lot of celebrities talking about the characters they’ve played and pet parents poking fun at the nicknames they’ve given their pets. But it got me thinking, what’s in a name?

Shakespeare demonstrated the irrelevancy of naming things, “that which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet”. But in my own healing journey and my work with transgender individuals I’ve come to realize that names have an enormous power. The name you choose to call yourself and have others call you by is deeply personal and subjective. Those of us like myself who have our long, formal names get to choose if we prefer to have others use it or if we choose to have them use a shortened “nickname” version. For every Robert there are those who go by Rob or Bob, for every Andrew there’s a Andy, and for every Jessica there’s a Jess or Jessie. I know individuals who refuse to go by a shortened nickname and there are those who refuse to recognize their formal names.

I first discovered the power behind names when the people in my life who hurt me would switch up which name they would use when talking to me. I learned quickly that the name they called me by was a pretty reliable indicator for what type of mood they were in that day. If they were in a good mood I had nicknames but if they were in a bad mood I’d suddenly be referred to by the name on my birth certificate. We’ve all had the experience of our parents calling us by our full name when we’re in trouble, this was different. I learned that when my abusers would call me by my legal name they were angry or upset about something and I needed to give them a wide berth. I also had people who refused to call me by anything other than my legal name because that’s what was proper. Despite my requests to be referred to by a shortened nickname.

I’ve been in relationships where I would be able to judge what type of mood my partner was in by their use of pet names like “honey”, “babe”, “sweetie”, etc. If they were in a bad mood about something, even if it wasn’t anything I had personally done, they’d call me by my name and I’d know that I’d be in trouble. When a certain ex would call me by my full name he was using it as a punishment and to let me know that he held a power over me. I know this because he told me so, he told me that he could call me whatever he liked whether I liked it or not because he had all the power.

In my healing journey I’ve learned that I can reclaim some of my own power by choosing whether or not to use the names of my abusers. In my therapy sessions I referr to some of them by name, some are referred to by what they did to me, and some are given their own nicknames. By my refusal to say their name during these sessions I’m removing some of the power they hold over me because they no longer have a name in my world. They’re just some powerless, insignificant piece of my story that I’m rewriting during my healing. For some people, naming their abusers has the same effect. For me though, these are people who I had to refer to by name so many times in my life that the name became synonymous with the pain and trauma.

I say all of this because I recently had a conversation with a good friend where I told them they’re one of the few people in my life that I allow to call me by a certain nickname. I allow them to call me by one of the names my abusers used to call me by because I trust this individual so implicitly that it is creating a more positive correlation in my mind with that name. That is part of reclaiming my power, reclaiming that name. I know this person won’t hurt me because they have demonstrated that they care about me too much to ever knowingly or purposely hurt me. Which is a welcome change from the people who have used that name in the past.

Shakespeare might have thought that names were irrelevant but I’ve learned they’re entirely relevant and more importantly they’re powerful.