Don’t Tell Me I Look Pretty — Part 2
Last week I wrote something that scared me.
Last week I wrote something that matters.
The piece was read more than anything else I’ve written on Medium. The piece touched a nerve.
In retrospect, I realize the piece was missing more than it covered.
When you write about something as complex as this — you inevitably leave things out.
A few things I’ve been mulling over — leaving the piece still incomplete (can we ever really grasp it all?) — but still, slightly more clear.
1. Some people CAN tell me I look pretty.
Those people are:
- my mom
- my husband
- my sister
- my closest friends
- my kids
Why do they get to comment on how I look and others cannot?
Because they know me — or at least, know me MOSTLY (because no one really KNOWS me).
They know my talents, my ideas, my complex strengths and weaknesses. They know my striving and trying. They know my wish to push past the superficial and be the me underneath the surface. And they get it and support that goal/dream.
They get to say “You look great!” or “I like your new haircut” because I am fully-fleshed to them as more than THAT.
And also, because they love me. The real me.
2. Being sexy is not bad.
So true. There is absolutely nothing inherently negative about being sexy.
Being sexy to me is being confident in my own being. It is knowing myself. It is listening to my own inner voice. It is being comfortable asking for and getting what I want. It is being comfortable asking for and getting what I want sexually. It is being able to share my body without worry or self-doubt or obsession.
For many (me included) there were mixed messages around sexuality growing up. Culture both glorified and shamed it. Girls in short skirts and makeup were alternately “hot”/highly valued and then shamed, called sluts and derided.
I will fiercely defend your right to wear the shortest skirt, show your cleavage and wear heels and all the makeup you want. No one has the right to tell me “the right way” to dress. I also hotly defend the rights of women and girls to wear visible bra straps under tank tops, tight yoga pants, and all the other things that our culture has piled up with judgement and shame based on the cultural freak-out of being “too sexy”.
Bodies are bodies. They are used for sex. They are used for work. They are used for creating and raising children. They are used for taking a nap. They are used one zillion different ways. I’m not sure why we are focused on the parts affiliated with sex.
(Also, I use my hands for sex and you are not offended or titillated by them. Just sayin’.)
The pendulum around sexuality swings wildly and seldom reaches a practical middle ground. We are too much. We are too little.
F that. I am.
3. Saying something about the pattern is complicated.
The first post generated online conversations which made me uncomfortable and uncertain.
Telling my truth was messy. Imperfect.
I tried to not create any more shame and blame and to simply tell the story as I see it.
I was happy that there was discussion, but I felt like I hadn’t explained myself perfectly and that some people were still feeling judged and shamed by what I wrote.
But the only other option was to say nothing — and I’m done with that.
Some said that we must choose our battles and this battle is too insignificant. Save it for something that really matters.
I see it differently. My daughters need me to share what I have learned. My son needs me to speak up and tell the story of what happens when we don’t look at our behaviors through an alternate lens.
Patterns are made of tiny bits. The tiny bits matter because of the larger picture they create.
Press the ❤ below if you believe this story matters. It means a lot to me. Plus, it helps other people to discover it. Thank you for your willingness to make a new pattern.
