I have been struggling to find my way back into my body my whole life.

Each time I had five hours of the poison going into me, I just pictured everything that needed to be burned away. I pictured wars, I pictured the things my father had done to me, I pictured brutality, and when it was over, I am light.

I wake up every day and I think, 'I'm breathing! It's a good day.'

To have insurance and have a diagnosis and to have doctors, I just felt it would be immoral on some level to complain.

I really want to help stop violence toward women.

It seems to me that we spend an inordinate amount of time and attention on fixing ourselves when we could really be directing that out to serving others.

In the United States, the last recorded clitoridectomy for curing masturbation was performed in 1948--on a five year old girl.