Shame: A Love Story
Non-Fiction by Ivan Coyote. Illustration by Lara Carson.
Do you remember all of your shame like I do? Does it creep
into your chest when you wake up too early? Does it lie there,
coiled beneath your scars?
Does it trickle down between the muscles of your back when
you sweat inside the shirt you can’t make yourself take off, even
on the beach on your birthday? Born in August.
We walked along the powdery sand to find a place to put our
towels and I couldn’t find any words to explain why I was cry-
ing on such a sunny day. Seven days later, I can now say out
loud that undressing in a crowd reveals what feels like a fading
target on my chest, white semi-circles where breast is now chest,
and round pink nipples I have not been able to feel for five
years. No one is staring at you, I tell myself. There are all kinds
of bodies here, I tell myself. But still. None that look like mine.
What did shame ever teach me, except to be ashamed?
