When you are a young woman and your body becomes a reminder of tragedy, how can you ever come to love it?” I wrote in that secluded cabin in Banff. “You yourself become a crime scene — a place of mourning you carry with you every day. Something tolerated, hated or, most commonly, ignored. I am happy for those people who see the body as a tool of empowerment, a vessel for pleasure and strength, but I’ve had to unlearn mine as a site of violence out of necessity.