new year, same body

every january, women are handed the same assignment. shrink something. smooth something. optimize something. become easier on the eyes. easier to consume. easier to forgive. this year, I’m opting out.

not because I’ve reached some enlightened place of self love, but because I’m bored. I’m also just tired of watching women be told—explicitly and implicitly—that the most ambitious thing they can do with a fresh year is look better in it.

I don’t want to spend another twelve months turning my body into a before and after slideshow. I want to feel steadier in my own mind. I want to be harder to manipulate. I want to know more than I did last year.

we’re told it’s about confidence, health, wellness, discipline or whatever but somehow it always circles back to visibility and approval. women are encouraged to confuse feeling better with being more desirable, to believe that peace will arrive once the mirror agrees with us. to treat our bodies as lifelong improvement projects instead of places we live.

and it works—because it keeps us busy.

busy fixing, tracking, correcting, apologizing. busy monitoring ourselves instead of the systems that benefit from our distraction.

I want goals that don’t photograph well. goals that don’t always translate into content. goals that don’t necessarily make me more palatable.

this year, I want to become more educated. more emotionally literate. more grounded in my own authority.

I want to read women the work of women who were called “too much” and decide for myself why. I want to understand how power works—not just in theory, but in courts, housing systems, families, and relationships.

I want to name my emotions precisely instead of flattening them into “anxiety” or “burnout.” I want to stop rushing myself through grief so I can be impressive again.

one of my goals is becoming harder to manipulate which means learning how systems actually function. recognizing patterns instead of internalizing blame. trusting my first no. letting anger exist without immediately softening it into something more acceptable. it means unlearning the idea that suffering is noble and silence is strength. it means noticing when my inner voice sounds suspiciously like someone who benefited from my obedience.

I don’t want to optimize my life anymore. I want to orient it. toward clarity instead of chaos. toward steadiness instead of intensity. toward relationships that feel reciprocal instead of aspirational.

I want to build a life that feels internally coherent—even if it looks unimpressive from the outside. I want to make decisions based on alignment, not applause. I want to become someone I trust wholeheartedly.

so no, I’m not setting goals about my appearance this year. I’m setting goals about my mind, my nervous system, my boundaries, my understanding of the world.

I’m choosing depth over decoration and agency over aesthetics. I want a life that feels full of everything the patriarchy doesn’t really want for women. I want to become more so I can be more for myself and for all the women I care so deeply about. that feels a lot more interesting and like a better use of my one precious life than trying to control the only body I’ll ever have. she deserves more than that.

what are your goals for the new year that have nothing to do with your physical appearance?