Today I wore a dress that is different than the normal style of clothing I wear. Tight, low cut, short, and admittedly perhaps a size too small. And the reaction from the "accepting and open" community that I live in was disappointing, to say the least.
For the past few weeks I have been feeling a bit down on myself, especially in regards to my personal body positivity. The way I saw myself was not the way I wanted to, and it wasn't a happy time. But recently I rediscovered the self-love that I had been lacking, and decided to celebrate my body, my love for my body, and my emancipation from debilitating body image ideals. I decided to celebrate and I'm not sure why, but I guess I expected the world to celebrate with me.
To put some perspective to my choice to celebrate who I am, it should be mentioned that I hardly ever feel like I'm advertising my womanhood. I don't often wear low cut shirts, tight clothes make me feel uncomfortable at best, and I've found a comfortable line to walk between conservatism and provocation. I accept that others may view my style choices differently and disagree with my above statement, but the bottom line is that I, the person inside this body, do not feel as though I advertise its intimacies. And today, I did.
I expected more stares, and anticipated some comments, particularly from the opposite sex. What I was not prepared for was the reaction I received from my fellow women.
I have long since become accustomed to the patriarchal society that we live in that teaches men that catcalling and unwanted attention are social norms and my denial of said attention is an indication of my conceited attitude. While I am grateful that not all men act this way and I do not mean to offend anyone by making this statement, it is irrefutable that women are treated this way, myself included. If you don't believe me, please read this interview with Kelsey Phillips, a female bike messenger and founder of the Women's Bike Messenger Association.
What I was not accustomed to was the unfamiliar hostility, derogatory stares, and unbridled judgment from the women that I passed. Ladies, I am disappointed and confused. Why is my celebration of self-love something to be condemned?
To the barista that served me with a grimace after staring at my chest, who has served me on numerous occasions while I was wearing a t-shirt with no such reaction, I really hope you were having a bad day. From the way your reaction changed when I walked up to the counter, I think I can safely assume your change in attitude was a reflection of the judgment you passed on me and my character, solely based upon my choice of attire.
To the girls on the bus adjacent to me, it's hard not to notice the glances, poorly disguised whispers, and content smirks. Why my style choices are acceptable to gossip about a mere three feet from me is something I don't understand. If you dislike something about me, do you really feel justified or elated by making it blatantly obvious?
To the women who stared as I walked past, whose eyes did not meet mine but met my breast’s, my stomach’s, my thighs’ and my ass’s, your stare dissected me into pieces. You did not see me for the person that I am, but as cuts of meat in a butchers shop.
The phrase, "my body, my right" is often used as a platform for abortion conversations, for arguing about who gets to pass laws that control my ability to care for my body. But it is just as appropriate in the dialogue between women and our differing beliefs in physical expression. Why my bare thighs are a concern to your day is something I do not understand and really would like to.
We are all up against a wall trying to fit into a very precisely cut access point into social acceptance that does not account for variation in body types. We are in this together, vying to change the terms of contract to beauty. This is my fight as much as it is yours, whether it is personal to you or not. And today I felt backwards motion, a slippage into territory that is too high to climb out of alone, where we need each other in order to build the necessary scaffolding to take us to higher, stronger ground, together.
This competition gets us nowhere and only hurts the people that I believe we are trying to support. My intention is not to victimize myself but to have a conversation that is often overlooked in the gender equality monologue. Ladies, we should be celebrating each other, not depreciating our self-worth’s. Today I celebrated myself, and I would like to further that by celebrating all women, men, and those who identify as neither of the above. I'd like to invite everyone to keep celebrating with and for each other. Who doesn't love a good party?
