I am not merely an object,
such an object of sex.
Neither am I merely an object of labor,
nor an object of color,
nor an economic object,
nor a functional object.
I am neither an object of classification,
nor an object of experimentation.
My existence is not reducible to anything,
because I am not a thing.
Rather, I am a human being.
I am not merely an objective observer,
as if I could remove myself from my self
and my observations.
I am also a subjective self,
seeing the world through my eyes, from inside my skin.
I am a living,
I am that and much, much more:
I am a person.