She was naked, a thing that most people manage to do every day without finding it offensive or traumatizing, but whatever. Mrs. Kanye West is taking a selfie in the mirror, black-ed out “edit” bars covering her hmm-hmms and her uh-huh, and it’s basically like she’s wearing a skimpy bikini except…um…well it’s almost exactly like she’s wearing a skimpy bikini.

But suddenly there’s this huge debate online: Did KK go too far with her pic? Does she hate feminism? How could she insult us normal bodied human females this way with her obviously glorious rack?

Look, I get it. Maybe you don’t want people to see your bits. Maybe you don’t want to see other people’s bits. I went to a music festival and walked into the sauna not realizing it was clothing optional and DAMN were there a lot of sneak-attack dongs my eyes were not prepared for. But, regardless, I got over it, because bodies are the flesh-bag vessels that our souls are cruising around in, and basically everyone has one, and I don’t really see what the big deal is.

I found out about this “hot debate” because I saw an article from a female Christian blogger writing about how she was definitely NOT slut-shaming, but what kind of devious hussy did KK think she is? Doesn’t she know that a real woman would have more self-respect? That a real woman would promote her womanhood by broadcasting her mind and character, not her ta-tas?

First off, if the idea of “what a real woman is” isn’t contrary to every GD notion of feminism, then I guess I don’t understand the concept as well as I thought.

Secondly, I am confused. A “real” woman? As opposed to what? Has Kim been made of hydrolyzed soy protein tofu tempeh this whole time and no one could tell the difference?

Thirdly, tell me again why can’t she be as proud of her ta-tas as she is of her mind and character? I mean, she’s got great ta-tas. Why is it bad that she likes them? I’ve got legs for days. I like them. Should I hide my stems under a bushel of sister-wife skirts because I also happen to have a good sense of humor and I should let that shine instead? No, people, NO. Our physical attributes and our internal attributes don’t have to be at war over which ones define us more, because they all do.

Fourthly, let’s remember her pic is essentially the equivalent of a man in a speedo.

NO SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS LET’S ALL MEMORIZE THIS AND SAY IT OUT LOUD TO THE PERSON SITTING NEXT TO US: IT’S REALLY AND HONESTLY NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS WHAT SHE CHOOSES TO DO WITH HER BODY.

Good, now that you’ve successfully weirded out that dude writing his memoir next to you in the coffee shop, let’s move on.

I get it: maybe you think her style of promoting/representing/celebrating herself is tacky.

Maybe you don’t like how it makes you feel about your own body.

Maybe you find her high-pitched nasally voice off-putting and think her brain is full of Skittles. Whatever.

All that’s fine for you to believe. But that doesn’t make the picture she posted WRONG. The way that she portrays herself to the world is not about you, and what you think about the way she portrays herself to the world is not about her.

::Let’s let that sink in. Because it’s true about her and everyone else in the world::

Look, this isn’t going to be some situation where the Full House “lesson learned” music starts swelling and over it I deliver a moving, inspiring little nugget of wisdom on just how we can all do this thing better. Because, honestly, I already know I’m not doing this so well. I literally just wrote an article criticizing women who criticize women. I just Irony Inception-ed the SHIT outta this, and I have no place to give advice.

The truth is: I don’t really want to be writing about this. I’d really prefer to be nestled in a snuggly blanket cave. Or maybe eating boxed brownies while watching the Great British Baking Show. Or both. But here I am, addressing it, because I am tired. ‘Cause I know there’s going to be a lot more think pieces about what a “real woman is.” Articles that pit women against women, pit women against her own body. Articles that claim to know how to “do it right.”

Honestly. I hope that one day we all get bored.

I hope we come to a place where no one has strong opinions about why women should stop wearing leggings, or why overweight females should dress to “flatter” (cough—hide—cough) their wobbly bits, or why any sensible women “shouldn’t wear ________ after 40.”

I hope we get bored with being un-kind and critical, and high and mighty, and we just let people like what they like and do what they do (when they’re not hurting anyone else) with their own bodies.

I hope we get bored with “The People of Walmart” memes that mock heavy, awkward, “tacky” people and the clothes they are wearing. (Sidenote: Can we all remember that literally EVERYONE you see walking around outside today put on clothes that morning and looked in the mirror and either a) shrugged their shoulders and said “meh” or b) went “Dayum!” and nodded excitedly with pleasure at their appearance, but either way they were like c) “Yup. These are the pieces of fabric-garb I want to wear on my body in the world in this moment of time.” So what does that have to do with you or me?)

I hope we get bored with putting people down to feel better about ourselves.

I hope we get bored with judging people who we have never met AND the people we intimately know for life-choices that do not relate to us.

I hope, one day, we respond to what celebrities choose to do with their bodies with the indifferent disinterest of a culture that is repeatedly being told what the temperature is. “Oh wow, went from 96 to 97 degrees, huh?”

And then I hope someone sings “It’s getting hot in herre.” ‘Cause that’s my jam.