I’m Pointy & I’m Proud
If you’re a woman who exists, you’ve probably been body-shamed in one way or another. For centuries, the patriarchy has had an undying need to determine what we put or don’t put on our bodies, and what’s acceptable conduct for them. But I’m here to tell you, that’s some bullshit.
As a loyal advocate for bra-less-ness, I have received countless unsolicited opinions and commentary on how I choose to present myself to the world. I’ve been told I need to cover-up, save my body for my future husband, that I’m trashy. I’ve been asked to justify my clothing choices. Occasionally I’ll get a head nod from a fellow bra burner, making all the judgements fade into background noise. I like to put forth a stone cold face, one that doesn’t care or acknowledge other peoples’ criticisms of my dress choices. And I long to be her, and sometimes I truly am. But sometimes I go to my room and shut the door, feeling the weight of every disgusted glance and disapproving headshake, every snarky comment and judgmental whisper, and I cry. I cry, and I think maybe I’ll just sacrifice my comfort and put on the damned thing, so I’m not constantly having to explain to strangers and friends and family why I shouldn’t have to wear a bra if I don’t want to.
But then I put it on, mostly in a professional work setting or for a visit to grandma’s house, and I feel it on me constantly. I feel it cutting off my circulation and making red indentations in my skin. The straps itch, the wires poke, the elastic is too tight. Do I sound dramatic to you? Well I don’t think I am. And I remember that my body is mine and I don’t have to adorn it in anything I don’t want to in order to preserve the comfort of others around me. This goes the other way around as well. If you find comfort and confidence in brassieres, then you rock that over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder! But I happen to find mine in the liberation of my nipples, and just because they happen to be attached to a female body, that doesn’t fundamentally alter them into sexual objects to be hidden and shamed.
I’ve been looking for ways to address this for years; the fact that it’s 2018 and it seems the majority of people I come into contact with are deeply offended and morally opposed to the fact that I’m a human being with human body parts. Seriously, have you ever really thought about the fact that there are legal nipples and there are illegal nipples, solely based on whose body they belong to? WILD. So here goes: my breasts and nipples are not sexual objects. I do not belong to anyone, especially not the vague possibility of the man I choose to marry someday, if that is the path I choose. My body is mine, and what I do with it is none of your business. I say this to myself quite often. It feels good to type it out on my computer with the hope that others like me will read it and feel empowered to do the same.
I’ll leave you with a generally good lesson that applies to a multitude of situations: if you find yourself wanting to pass judgement on someone because of what they may be wearing or not wearing, ask yourself, is that my body, or another person’s? If the latter, then you don’t get to have an opinion and you should mind your own f***ing business.
