Red shorts
Wild, young, and judged
I once saw a friend doubt herself. As the imminent summer heat wave invaded the streets of London, summer dresses flourished throughout the crowded city. My friend was wearing a dress. It was a good move in so many ways, it was warm, F* warm. This being said, it was also the source of glances and looks from passersby who would stare at her bare legs until she stopped walking to ask me if, frankly, her dress was too short.
No. The dress was not too short.
Yes. Her reaction was the result of recurrent provocations, some loud, some silent and conveyed by expressive glares.
No. She should not change her attire if she did not want to. Don’t tell her what to wear, tell him not to be creepy.
Now, I ask the reader of this article to imagine a similar scenario. After all, it is a recurrent one. Have you ever seen a friend doubt her appearance? Have you seen her doubt after and because of a certain attitude, whether verbal, gestural, or seemingly as discrete as small recurrent glances? Yes? Good, keep reading.
My question here is our reaction, as friends, siblings and who knows what. What do we do?
- We reassure our friend
- We chase the creeper away
- We laugh out loud at the absurdity of the situation
- We dismiss the problem with a smile, swearing, long feminist talk… You pick.
In most cases, we react, we defend the short-summer-dress wearer while pointing to the individual who, whether through glances, comments or attitude, has in fact attacked her personal space.
Well, I would say excellent reaction. Now, let us turn the scenario around. What about when YOU are the individual whose personal, call it ‘safe’, space is being invaded. When YOU are the one doubting yourself, suddenly uncomfortable with your clothing choices. Let me illustrate this with a personal anecdote.
Years ago I felt someone grabbing my behind while I was struggling with my keys to open the door to my apartment building. I turned around to face three middle-aged individuals laughing out loud at my surprised and angry face. I was twenty and I was ashamed, my first thought being: ‘I should have never worn these super-short red shorts’.
WAIT.
Wasn’t I the one reacting when my friend felt a similar feeling of shame in regards to her summer dress? What happened here? Why is it that I could react immediately as an external viewer while, as a short-clothing-wearer, I went straight into self-blame mechanisms?
As a good twenty year old individual (which applies to every age, let us not kid ourselves), I based my self-esteem on preset standards. I refused to admit that I cared about what other people thought, because that would mean admitting I was weak. It is more trendy, after all, to be the girl who doesn’t care about the look of others, than admitting to do so, which would severely damage my careless, free-spirited and opinionated public image. But I did. I still do.
Having witnessed numberless body-shaming observations (have you ever heard ‘that girl should NOT have worn that! OMG!’) I was scared to death to make the cut, to be described as one of those. Blushing in shame and anger after the dudes’ noisy laughter I felt conflicted. During those split seconds my mind had the time to scrutinize the situation from every useless angle:
Were they laughing at my insecurities? At my butt? Was my body laughing material? Was I one of those who ‘should NOT have worn those shorts’? WORSE: I am becoming one of those judgemental women judging the bodies of my peers?
I say useless angles because I was placing the blame on myself. It was MY fault that I wore those shorts, MY fault to feel insecure rather than standing up for myself, MY fault for judging my female peers. So one may think, well yes, someone grabbed your butt, not biggie and take it as a compliment. Well: NO.
No, because it is not a compliment (Seriously? Do I really have to write this?), no because my space was openly attacked. No because, when our personal space is being directly and overtly violated, we probably come up with two explanations:
A. It is not our fault: our body is damn perfect. Head to toe.
B. It is our fault: be ashamed and put on longer trousers.
I am questioning why our own integrity sometimes seems somehow less worthy of being defended.
What I would like to question is how is it that we classify ourselves through such a simplistic, reductive, and patronising schemes while branding the sword to the enemy when someone toxically approaches a close friend? I am not saying you should not defend your close ones. Please do. I am questioning why our own integrity sometimes (actually, quite often for more people than you CAN imagine) seems somehow less worthy of being defended.
We still operate under a hierarchical logic based on strength: if we are the weakest individual, chances are that those who are seemingly stronger hold the truth. If those people snarkily look at you, laugh at you, even insult you, it is because there is a reason, right? So we blame ourselves, but for what exactly we don’t know.
Why do we go through spectacular self-blaming? Why does the other’s opinion hold the truth? Maybe because we grew up swallowing generic statements like: ‘we need to be objective’, ‘your point is not valid as it is too subjective’. And we apply those statements to almost everything because, in many cases, they stand. But when it comes to the body, your body, it is an entirely different discourse. Your body is the most subjective thing you’ll encounter. Otherwise we are all doomed, for if your body is for others to judge, then don’t even bother trying to fight the patriarchy.
To answer these questions on self-blame, confusion, and when exactly the patriarchal look comes to the picture, I’ll give a few hints.
First, bearing in mind that the female body is an objectifiable matter, a sexually objectifiable matter to be precise, has allowed to the other sex (aka, some and any dude) to feel free to grab your butt as if grabbing a supermarket item. This has been going on for centuries, it is the result of years of efforts at asserting superiority by male subjects that, consequently, assert rights over the female body. This still stands today, don’t be fooled, we still need so many more waves of feminism.
Second, when someone else is being objectified in front of our own eyes, we are in an excellent position to see and analyse this system of objectification. As outsiders, when it is not our space that has been invaded but that of a loved one, we have the power to see and to confront such attacks. I can -and should- defend my friend whose body is being objectified as she’s wearing a summer dress because I am witnessing the process and I am not being objectified myself. I am in a position to reassure her but, most of all, to see that the attack comes from the gazer and NOT from her. Somehow he feels entitled to look and comment. And that is perfectly acceptable for society, more acceptable than dressing as we like. Yes, this is a recurring explanation that still stands, and what is spectacularly screwed up is that we’re still talking about it.
Third, let us tackle the remaining mystery which, even after writing 1205 words about the topic remains unclear to me, why is it harder to defend ourselves? We are taught to take responsibility over our bodies, all the while we grow up having to accept that the inequalities between genders are -even if unfair for us- established unwritten norms that we must fight against. As a result we take the double responsibility of:
- Taking care of ourselves. Basically, not getting raped, also known as: being a responsible and decent women, which also translates into dressing appropriately and never speaking back because historically women that stand-up for themselves are the ones getting fucked. Sadly, there are still too few laws -and when there are, they are rarely enforced- that defend our physical and psychological well-being.
- Being free to be ourselves: wearing that dress or shorts because we look good and we like it, because is hot as heck, because we want to, and because dressing as we want, as much as fighting for what we love or thriving through what we chose to do, is part of an essential human development. So it is a responsibility. A responsibility that has been overtly misinterpreted, since there is a big gap between feeling beautiful and having to look beautiful for society. A woman is responsible for her looks (because men aren’t? Let me know if I’m wrong, reader, but I always feel that the grunge look is more tolerated in the other sex). This is a contradiction that makes the initial paradox; looking good versus looking proper enough so as not to “provoke” assault, even more tense. We are EXPECTED TO LOOK GOOD, we WANT to LOOK GOOD (for ourselves though, but do we even know the difference at this point?) BUT, because simplicity is not allowed, GOOD in a proper, un-provocative way. So who is to define the boundaries?
The thing is, A and B not always align. Actually, they clash: the dress and shorts may be too provocative, so that being free to be ourselves is in opposition with A (Not get raped, because again, the dress/short choice was TOO PROVOCATIVE!).
Here is the thing: these two should not clash, but they do because they operate through patriarchal standards, those who choose what is ‘too provocative’ while accepting that the a woman can be harassed, abused, and injured on an everyday basis.
So when we are the subject of this patriarchal-based objectification we are at the center of these contradictions. So we doubt. We question ourselves because what we are, our own development and personality, inevitably clashes with the frame imposed to us.
So what happens?
Commonly, we objectify ourselves to the point of submission.
So what to do?
As I was told, imagine you are defending a friend, loving your friend’s freedom and individuality, which translates to your individuality, as you love her.
I’m writing this post while wearing red shorts.
