I have no desire or intention to police others’ bodies. We can talk about the social pressures that lead to high rates of cosmetic surgery, dieting, body hatred — but to confuse a need for systemic critique with a right to criticize individuals is one of the worst uses of feminism.
But.
And.
So.
How we talk about our bodies — our own bodies — matters. It affects how other people feel about theirs, and that matters. When we say “I’m too fat to wear a bikini”, we’re saying fat is bad, and those as fat or fatter than us also shouldn’t expose themselves. When we say “I can’t get away with going without a bra”, we’re saying to flop is not a subjective choice but an objective assessment. When we say “My hair’s an ugly mess unless I straighten it”, we’re saying everyone’s hair that’s curly like ours is ugly too.
Does that mean we have to pretend to a false enlightenment, never let a negative word slip our mouths? Does that mean we have to suppress our own truths and desires for the sake of others (always, for women, are we supposed live for the sake of others)? I cannot accept that either. We must be able to tell our truths, to take the dark things inside us out so they can be seen, to exert our rightful autonomy over our own bodies, to do as we choose with them.
How do we resolve this? Is it resolvable?
I propose this:
We start with I.
I feel. I fear. I want.
We reject kyriarchical assignments of some bodies, some ways of being, as wholly bad, or inherently good; we know better than to rely on what “everybody knows” about fat, and flop, and tresses. Instead, we get deeper: what are we afraid of? What are we reaching toward?
I feel better in a one-piece. I’m afraid people will stare at me if I don’t wear a bra. I want my hair to be straight.
Can we talk about where our senses of style come from? About male gaze and comfort in public? About the ramifications of hair choices? Absolutely. But we don’t have to. We don’t have to analyze every single choice at every single opportunity; we don’t have to let those analyses dictate our choices for fear of “giving in” to kyriarchy and all its bullshit. We can, we are allowed to, simply say “Fuck it, this is what I want right now.”
How radical is that? How much could we change the world by doing something just because we want to? What would happen if we reject the “need” for excuses, for justifications? Not “I’m too fat to wear that”, not “I ran a mile earlier, so this brownie is ok”. Just — I want to wear this. I want to eat that. I want. Sometimes, that can be enough.
Arwyn
In my bathroom hangs a plaque with a picture of a yin yang and the word BALANCE. I can never get it to hang straight. This probably says something deep and meaningful about my life.
Once again, you hit the nail I couldn’t quite find on the head and offered up an answer to a question I was still trying to figure out that I was asking. Inclusion and acceptance doesn’t mean we can’t still have personal preferences, comfort levels, needs and ideas, it just means that we do our best not to judge the personal preferences, needs, ideas and actions of others (and stay as mindful as possible about where those judgements might slip into our language consciously or unconsciously).
This is something that I think is particularly important for parents, caregivers and teachers to think about: how/when do we reinforce ideas, beliefs and values without meaning to and what can we do to stop?
And, best of all, you’ve just given us a wonderful answer to that difficult question!
This is a great piece. Altho’ I notice as more women in my personal sphere realize de rigueur body snark is less-accepted they just get sneakier about it. My close friend who reads my FA posts, tweets, writings etc. will not say the word “diet” nor calorie-counting, she’s just closeting those behaviors now.
Not sure what my point is (I likely don’t have one) but just something I’ve observed.
This is interesting and timely.
As you probably remember, I wrote a post a while back about how I wanted to feel like myself again. To me, that meant wanting to be in better shape and wanting to lose some inches. But that is because I wanted to, not because I felt that I had to.
At the moment, I don’t know if I have lost weight or not. I haven’t been on a scale in more than 3 months (we don’t have one here in Germany). I know that some of my clothes fit differently, but I wouldn’t say on the whole they are tighter or looser. I do know that I still don’t feel great about all aspects of my body. My stomach bothers me. That is why I choose to wear a tankini that does a fairly good job of flattening it.
However, here in Germany there are plenty of women who confidently wear a bikini and who are much larger than I am and who look great doing so. It doesn’t change the fact that I am not comfortable wearing a bikini, but I do sense generally that there is less fear of wearing a bathing suit here than there is in North America. It is refreshing to see so many women confidently (or seemingly so) wearing a bathing suit and showing their bodies.
I love this post. It is sometimes hard to figure out why it bothers me that others talk about their weight, or food they eat, or whatever. They don’t THINK they are insulting me by complaining about how fat (or not) they are, but of course they are. But you put it into words better than I ever could.
Also, today I was reading some lactivist blog posts and some of the comments were atrocious. Some radio host, who happens to be fat, was making horrible comments about nursing in public. But then some of the lactivists were making fun of her weight. I comment about how that’s not OK, but it seems like very few people get it. Really, I think name calling is a bad idea, no matter what it’s about. But I see lactivism and fat acceptance as being a part of feminism, so it just doesn’t work for me to pick on someone’s weight simply because they don’t like nursing in public (her comments were really, really horrible and ignorant, but that still does not justify making fun of her appearance!).
Arwyn, you are BRILLIANT. THIS IS THE KEY, THE ANSWER. WE ARE ENOUGH, what we want is enough reason! Thank you….for saying so clearly, so succinctly and creating discussion.
Very interesting suggestions, though I’m afraid I disagree.
“When we say “I’m too fat to wear a bikini”, we’re saying fat is bad, and those as fat or fatter than us also shouldn’t expose themselves.” I really don’t see this as true. Many women feel that their bodies are inadequate but other women who are fatter than they are can wear a particular garment. For instance, the complaints of ’straight’ sized women when comparing their bodies to plus size models like Crystal Renn and saying, “I wish I could pull that off.” Skin tone, body composition, cellulite, stretch marks, varicose veins, scars, marks and other ‘imperfections’ all play into whether a woman thinks she looks good in anything and I don’t think it’s a direct projection onto others.
Again, “When we say “I can’t get away with going without a bra”, we’re saying to flop is not a subjective choice but an objective assessment” sort of premises that some women can ‘get away’ with it and I think it bespeaks a lack of confidence in pulling it off, not the notion that everyone of a certain cup size must wear a bra.
And lastly, “My hair’s an ugly mess unless I straighten it” can mean many things. Maybe it means that the woman doesn’t know how to style her curly hair or she feels like curls don’t suit her style or her face.
I’m glad that you advocate we don’t “pretend to a false enlightenment” but I think the language you are advocating is euphemistic. I agree that we need to “get deeper: what are we afraid of? What are we reaching toward” but what does “I feel better in a one-piece” mean that “*I feel* I am too fat for a bikini?” doesn’t? Because, ultimately, if you feel better in a one-piece because you feel too fat in a bikini, you still feel too fat in a bikini and ultimately it might be better to articulate that so you can work through the thought.
I think, “I’m afraid people will stare at me if I don’t wear a bra” is more on-target *if* that is the only reason a woman feels she ‘can’t pull it off’. If there are ancillary reasons like her back starts to hurt without the support, she doesn’t like the way she looks without a bra, she feels overly sensitized when not wearing a bra, I think those are also important to acknowledge and not simply construing her physical discomfort with a matter of the public gaze. Sometimes the anxiety women feel about their bodies is not strictly a matter of how others perceive them; it’s a complex nexus of bundled feelings that include sensorial experiences as well.
And as for, “I want my hair to be straight”, I know many women who would love to wear their hair curly if they felt they could manage it but they don’t feel like they have the time, money or adeptness. They don’t necessarily want their hair to be straight but if they don’t straighten it they don’t know how to make it anything other than ‘an ugly mess’. They have no problem admiring others’ kinks, curls or ringlets.
I think that people have a right to talk about their own bodies in the language that suits them and that others have to stop extrapolating broader judgments from them. It’s best, I think, to be kind to one’s body and to one’s body image but I don’t think it should be requisite or the pathologies we have are just suppressed. I don’t think that when women say, “Ugh, I hate myself as a brunette. I can’t wait to see my colorist” they mean that all other women should be blonde or “I lost too much weight; my face is looking gaunt” they mean all women with the same BMI are excessively thin. I really think that the most important thing is that we speak the truest, most complete “I” statements we can and not let other peoples’ body image and self esteem influence our own.
Alexis, you seem to have mistaken my examples for generalizations.
There are any number of reasons a person might not want to wear a bikini; my point is that we can, and should, enunciate those reasons rather than rely on “I’m too fat”. And if she thinks she is, indeed, “too fat”, she needs to realize what that says about other fat women. Because whether you agree or not, it does indeed say that there IS such a thing as “too fat” for a bikini, and that therefore, other women might also be “too fat” for one. And perhaps that is what she intends to say; but most people do not mean that, and I want them, therefore, to reconsider their words, and get at a more truthful statement. Is she afraid of judgment? Is she unhappy with (parts of) her body? Does she feel her body has gotten “too saggy” or isn’t the “right shape” (and again, what does that say about other bodies?)?
But she doesn’t have to want to wear a bikini. She doesn’t have to give any excuse at all if she doesn’t wish to — “I don’t want to” is sufficient!
To your point that what language we use shouldn’t affect others and to the extent that it does is their responsibility, I agree somewhat. To quote a previous post:
But the thing is, we are talking about language used about and against people who are marginalized by society. The examples I gave are fatties, women, and people with highly curly hair (particularly kinky hair). The language — which society has given us to use (for example through pop culture: sit coms, commercials, and so on) — actively promotes a culture which is sizeist, misogynist, racist, and so on.
Does any particular person mean her self-abusing language as a personal insult against other people who share her characteristics? Probably not. But language such as I gave examples of above contributes to a hostile environment for those groups. For those of us who wish to avoid that, I offer an alternative that does not require silencing our subjective truths, and indeed, allows us to speak them better.
Arwyn, I wasn’t mistaking your examples for generalizations so much as trying to illustrate how I see the examples as indicative of a faulty overall argument. I think it is right and okay to advocate that people do not make negative comments about marginalized bodies because it contributes, however slightly, to overall negative associations with those types of bodies. Nonetheless, that is language policing and that is calling for a rigorous kind of self-censorship. And maybe that self-censorship is ultimately worthwhile for the betterment of society but it’s still muzzling and can contribute to really screwed-up internal contradictions.
You say, “There are any number of reasons a person might not want to wear a bikini; my point is that we can, and should, enunciate those reasons rather than rely on “I’m too fat”.” I agree that if there are other reasons, the person should articulate those reasons and not rely on ‘fat’ as an easy crutch. I think though, that, if all things being equal, a woman would wear a garment if she were less fat, she should be able to say that, keeping in mind that it’s not appropriate everywhere/anywhere, like any other language. (And Kelly’s fitting room anecdote instantly comes to mind. Self-flagellation as public performance is, I think, not fair to people around you.)
“And if she thinks she is, indeed, “too fat”, she needs to realize what that says about other fat women. Because whether you agree or not, it does indeed say that there IS such a thing as “too fat” for a bikini, and that therefore, other women might also be “too fat” for one.” Whether you agree or not, it says that there is a thing as “too fat” for a bikini for the particular woman who is speaking about her particular body. It is a neatly self-limited comment. Might it cause other women pain or uncertainty to hear that expressed? Yes. Should considerate people keep that in mind and maybe self-censor accordingly. Yes. But it doesn’t say anything about anyone else and to read that into that is to make someone else’s issues about themselves, about you.
This I can agree with: “At some point, I think there is a level of individual responsibility that must be taken (remembering that we are discussing a situation among those with roughly equal power and privilege — or lack thereof); at some point, one has to be able to step back and avoid taking, as well as giving, offense unnecessarily.”
You are right when you say this is “language used about and against people who are marginalized by society” but I think you have missed how what you are prescribing unfairly puts pressure on “fatties, women, and people with highly curly hair (particularly kinky hair)” when they speak about their own bodies. Because, for instance, I happen to be short, black, brown-skinned, fat, kinky-curly tressed, you are saying I have to be careful in how I talk about my own body in a way that someone who is tall, white, fair, thin, and straight haired does not. I, when talking about my *own* body, need to make sure I don’t say anything that incidentally might contribute to “a culture which is sizeist, misogynist, racist, and so on” because I have to further politicize my body by making sure that I am always advocating for its validity, not engaging in the way I experience it: with joy, sometimes, negativity, sometimes, and ambivalence, often. So while it’s okay to complain about one’s thinness, fairness, straightness, if you are feeling that you are unhappy with your fatness, darkness and kink, you need to be silent. Or euphemistic.
Alexis — First, if someone thinks it’s euphemistic, it’s wrong. It’s the wrong language for them, and I hope they can find more truthful language. I’m not advocating euphemisms or muzzling or falsehoods. The thing is, most of the time these are falsehoods, trotted out because we are rewarded for repeating kyriarchal lies.
Related, I think what you say about your body being more policed would be true if it were only fat, floppy, kinky-haired women were saying these things, but they’re not. Like in Kelly’s example, it comes from women with size privilege, moaning about having to wear a — gasp! — size ten. It comes from women with B-cup breasts with nipples that point out, and is said in front of me with my toe-staring size Fs (or Is or Ks or whatever they are while nursing). And when it comes from a fat woman, from a floppy breasted woman, it might feel truthful (therefore be truthful to some extent), but more often in my experience it kyriarchy using her voice as a mouthpiece to hurt herself. To some extent, yes, I am advocating that marginalized bodies stop contributing to our own marginalization, but only in as much as it feels right to us, and I am not placing the burden for change exclusively on us because we are so not the only ones who do this.
I am not trying to muzzle ambivalence or negativity about anyone’s bodies, only trying to point out that there are ways to express all sorts of feelings — positive, negative, ambivalent, neutral — in ways that do not contribute to kyriarchy. If the language rings false to you, then it’s not the right language for you. I’m not being facetious in that, at all. If the language is wrong, find better language.
Let me tell you all something.
“Toe-staring size Fs” is about the best phrase I’ve heard today. I have “WALL-Es”.
Now carry on with your excellent conversation, I am reading intently and enjoying.
You rock my world, Arwyn. So, so hard.
Thanks for clearly communicating your brilliant insights Arwyn! You point the way forward fearlessly
*nods vigorously*
As a fat woman who was a fat-ish adolescent, I have suffered through far more ‘conversations’ about how women much thinner than me feel ‘fat and disgusting’ or ‘huge’ than I ever should have had to. It is normal and human to have ‘issues’ with one’s body of one kind or another, or at the very least to have preferences relating to fashion and modesty. But I think we not only benefit others, but ourselves, when we acknowledge that some of our attitudes are underpinned by misogyny or fat-shaming and adapt how we express ourselves accordingly. Body snark directed at oneself is just as destructive and potentially hurtful as directing it onto others. After all, many of us learn to loathe and punish our bodies from watching our mothers do it.
Yes, I do think the language we use to describe various discomforts with our own body really does make a difference.
For example, I am – usually – happy to accept my fatness. But when over and over and over I hear my friend who is skinny say “I wish I wasn’t so fat!” I do start to look at my fatself negatively.
In fact, she adds insult to injury by saying “I don’t mean that you’re fat, just that I am” or worse still “but you don’t look fat!” – as if to look fat is undesirable and maybe even that I’m somehow “lucky” and/or fooling people because I can look thinner than I am [my arms and lower legs are quite thin so sometimes I get read as a smaller clothing size than I am].
I must admit I’m guilty of the “I can’t get away without wearing a bra” thing. I will remember this in future, it’s a good point.
However, nor would I say “I want to wear a bra”. I think, phrasing it how I honestly feel would be along the lines of:
“I admit I have been trained into preferring the culturally/kyriarchally prescribed aesthetic of having my breasts high up on my chest, for starters. This is also partly due to my ex husband telling me for a long time that he didn’t like how I looked without a bra on and that takes a lot of getting over. I think I could get over it eventually, and start to see “floppy” as a neutral or even a positive thing, but I don’t want the negative gaze I would get for having my breasts nearer my belly. And lastly, purely on a comfort basis, I don’t like the feeling of the sweat that builds up underneath my breasts when they are not in a bra on a warm day.”
One thing I did want to add though. I’ve had discussions about preferring parts of an aesthetic that is kyriarchally approved before (whether or not that approval is part of the reason for preferring that aesthetic). And some feminists have tried to convince me not only how much happier I would be if I (for example) ditched the bra, but that I should ditch the bra, almost in fact that I have an obligation to other women to do so (and that my comfort problems would be solved by a bit of talc or something).
I think in general, feminism does a good thing by pointing out that many (I could make a good case for “all”!) of the choices we make are prescribed by kyriarchy. But when some feminists take that a step further, they are themselves trying to control/limit other women, and that’s not on.
“I think in general, feminism does a good thing by pointing out that many (I could make a good case for “all”!) of the choices we make are prescribed by kyriarchy. But when some feminists take that a step further, they are themselves trying to control/limit other women, and that’s not on.” Exactly.
And one day, I’ll write about my years of bralessness. But not today.
Oh! I totally forgot to say. And it was already a long comment but oh well.
One thing that really helped me when struggling with accepting my fatself was this.
Instead of saying “I’m too big/fat for these clothes” and turning it in on myself, I started to say “these clothes are all too small/tight for me!” and instead I started to feel really rather cross at the people who only made clothes in smaller sizes, and the shops that decided they wouldn’t stock my size.
Nice Arwyn. Bravo. This will make me think twice next time I say “I’m too fat to wear this.”
@Alexis
I’m glad that you advocate we don’t “pretend to a false enlightenment” but I think the language you are advocating is euphemistic. I agree that we need to “get deeper: what are we afraid of? What are we reaching toward” but what does “I feel better in a one-piece” mean that “*I feel* I am too fat for a bikini?” doesn’t? Because, ultimately, if you feel better in a one-piece because you feel too fat in a bikini, you still feel too fat in a bikini and ultimately it might be better to articulate that so you can work through the thought.
I agree with this and I find it might further the conversation.
Arwyn’s points make sense to me too because there are still so many, many women who continue to perpetuate this stuff without any thought to what it perpetuates. I once listened to my friend S. go on and on about her size 6 jeans drama and how ew, one brand she had to buy an EIGHT and that was so fat, going on and on… the room was full of myself (size 10 at the time) and the rest of the women were no smaller than a 14. I sensed a lot of sorrow and tension and an odd “trapped” feeling. I hold S. responsible for/to her own feelings and all that, but … it was a shitey moment all the same.
Kelly — My intention isn’t to be a kind of language police, discouraging people from saying what they think. But my observation (of myself and others) is that we reach for the handy, socially-accepted self-hating phrases (often in a kind of preemptive defense), without it being what is actually true for us.
And if it is actually our truth, where is that coming from? What is it saying to other people? Is it saying something we’re ok saying, or not? Can we recognize and acknowledge how it affects others — and ourselves?
If someone feels “too fat” to wear a bikini, what does that mean to her? What does she think will happen if she wears one? Does she not like the way she looks, or the way it feels? Does she really think there’s a weight or cellulite limit on bikinis? Is she unwilling to face potential scorn? Is she concerned about it staying on? There can be a whole lot packed into that little statement, and far from unthinkingly banning its use, I’d like us to unpack it, rather than continue to fling it around, hurting others, hurting ourselves.
Yes. Hard to do sometimes, but so incredibly worth it and what we need to do. I’m trying as far as I can to not only use “I” language, but to not say about myself that I am “too” X to do, wear, say, be, Y. So yes, I am fat, but I’m not “too” fat to wear a bikini, or leggings, or any other damn thing. I don’t like bikinis as it happens, so I don’t wear them, but I don’t anymore enuniciate it – including to myself – as being “too fat” to wear them.
I love this post. I do try to word things in such a way as to indicate I’m talking about *my* personal preferences for *myself* but I know I slip up … probably a lot. I am FAR harsher on myself about more than just body image issues than I am on anyone else. I will judge myself in the worst possible way for something that I would forgive, justify, understand on/from anyone else. I’d hate for someone to take my personal self loathing issues as an insult themselves.
I’m a bit struggling to comment because I both agree and disagree. This is a second attempt to make sense. I hope I can. *crosses fingers*
I see what you’re saying about unpacking the thinking that leads to I suppose negative attitudes to oneself or one’s choices. And what Spilt Milk said about skinny people saying “I’m so fat”, it does feel awful when you’re sitting right there trying to figure out if they’re obliquely insulting you or if they are having a serious body image issue of their own.
But also, hmmm. I suppose what I see is ownership of one’s mood & feelings. Because the thing that I can’t stand is when you’re in a negative place and someone tells you to “cheer up” or some such enforced cheeriness. This kind of sounds like it’s heading that way and although I know that’s not what you intend, I’d hate firstly for one’s own negative feelings about one’s body, appearance or whatever it may be to need to be silenced or rephrased by forces outside of the individual expressing them. To me that’s making expressing one’s own feelings, be they sunshine&sparkles or doom&gloom, conditional in a sense that might not by kyrachical(?), but still somehow external.
I know you’ve already addressed that in your answer to Kelly, Arwyn but unpacking the notion is, er, labour intensive? Often I don’t want to vocalise what I’m thinking about myself. But when I do, I’m *owning* that. I’m acknowledging that right now I feel like I look terrible, for whatever reason fat, hair, boobs or wevs. In a sense it’s a “this too will pass” thing. I don’t *want* to unpack it. I don’t have the brain space.
For people who are quite plainly the body type or look that would grace the cover of most magazines – telling them how to express what they feel about that body seems a little, er, arrogant. They might not choose words that you consider constructive, but it’s still their feeling. Like me, suggesting they unpack that feeling might be either too difficult for them or too much like their feeling, however inarticulately it has been expressed, is somehow wrong. If I said “I can’t wear a bikini” or something and was told to rephrase, I’d be a little insulted. It’s not really something I’d say to be honest, although I have learnt that buying bikinis on the recommendation of my partner leave me with a tiny scrap of fabric that I’m too scared to ever wear for fear it will ping off. So there’s that.
I don’t know. I suspect all of these thoughts have been covered, but there you go. Inarticulate comment is inarticulate.
I think, though, that this post was not necessarily advocating telling someone to rephrase while they are in the midst of an image crisis. It’s more of a call for us to think about the issue *while we’re not* and, thus, encouraging us to rephrase the way we think about such things if that makes sense. The result will hopefully be that we phrase our feelings better without much effort when we are in the midst of said crisis. I fear this may be an inarticulate reply to an inarticulate post being inarticulate (not that I really think you were being all that inarticulate).
Shiny — What I’m hearing you say you dislike about this is that it feels imposed, externally. What I intend is to offer a rephrasing for those who want it. Would I come up to someone and say “you need to rephrase that! don’t use those words!”? No, never. At most, and only in very limited situations, I might offer a rephrasing suggestion, or ask if that’s really what ze means.
What I want is for us to be able to realize the ramifications of our words — on other people, on ourselves — and to have the tools to change that if we choose to. If at any given time, you don’t have the energy or the time or the spoons to? Then don’t. It’s ok, really.
What I found, though, as Kareena alluded to above, was that the more I thought about the language I used about myself when I wasn’t in a stressed-out space (and I did a lot of this work in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy), the more I had it in my “tool box” when I was and the better I felt about myself overall. Not because I was repressing or denying anything, but that I was able to express how I felt at that moment about myself (all my body hatred and fear and disgust) without making it an absolute statement about the way I was. (Example: “I feel disgusting (because of my fat)” rather than “I’m disgustingly fat” — or, because my post was about the things we do and don’t do, “I don’t feel confident enough to wear that in public” rather than “I’m too fat to wear that in public”.) That I also helped make it more comfortable for others was almost a bonus at that point, because — although I was still saying the negative things about myself (more truthful, even, than before) — the phrasing helped me get to a happier place with my body, where it wasn’t wrong, and the way I felt about it wasn’t wrong, but it just was. And that was OK.
But, again, I’m not saying there’s an obligation for anyone with a marginalized body (such as any woman) to do this. Do I want everyone to? Well, yeah. But I’m not the language or the thought police, and I don’t want anyone else to be either.
I get that you’re not intending to be the language police. Politically, I totally agree, personally I have some hestiations and I’m not entirely sure if that’s because I’m not being very bright atm, or for some other reason.
I suppose what you’re talking about is a very long term, changing the script type of thing (like CBT) not a direct response to a particular statement. What I see is the people who invest in it might be the people who already consider the beauty myths and cultural loadings of what they’re saying. That is, not the people for whom the script changing would be completely revolutionary. Not to say it’s not worthwhile, just…gah. Not even sure what I’m saying.
Example: my mum is a massive gym junkie. She’s at the gym for two hours every day and is outrageously fit and slim. When she hasn’t been to the gym because she’s been away or something she’ll be like “ugh, I feel so fat because I skipped the gym for a week”. I really hate that, because she’s not fat, and it feels like she is telling me (as my mother): get thee to a treadmill. But my discomfort doesn’t change the fact that it’s her reality. If she was to unpack that statement to something like, “I’d usually exercise more than this and I miss that as well as the comraderie I share with the other gym goers” I think I’d still feel that internal flinch. (Although, maybe to a lesser degree.)
Hmm. Might need to think some more. And stop trying to process these things on deadline.
Wow, some very interesting dialogue going on here. I’m going to throw my two cents in on the debate:
Language is somewhat ambiguous and we don’t always say exactly what we mean. Sure, those women might mean something very particular about their own physical comfort when they say things like “I can’t get away with going without a bra” but that’s not what they are saying. The difference here for me is the locus of power in the statements.
“I can’t get away with/without…” talks about an external force of some kind. “Getting away” with something says nothing about comfort or, perhaps most importantly, personal choice but rather that we cannot avoid some sort of judgement or negative consequence if we make certain choices. Conversely, saying “I’m uncomfortable going without a bra” or even “I don’t like how I look without a bra” could still make others feel uncomfortable but they’re still a personal expression, not a blatant statement and affirmation of kyriarchical values.
The first kind of comment locates the speaker within a broader cultural system that judges people as of those who can/can’t or should/shouldn’t do something and reaffirms and accepts this categorizing and judgement. The second statement might be linked to those same kinds of categories and judgements but in and of itself, it is about the speaker herself and her internal state with regard to those issues.
Now, I’m not saying those values aren’t at play within the personal comfort and feelings but if we own them as our individual position at that time, it takes the broader judgement and lodges it in the person which to me, is a more comfortable place for it to be expressed. It might feel like I’m being judged when a skinner friend says she’s too fat for a bikini but in my book, that’s more my own issue that I need to deal with; I think she has the right to express how she feels about herself as long as it is about her and her body and not projecting the cultural judgements out on others.
The other side to the original post, as I read it, is not just acknowledging this type of oppressive statement but actively resisting giving into its ease and commonality. In order to fight off the broader cultural generalizations and those insidious little worms of doubt and judgement and oppression, we need to own our actions, our feelings and our needs. We need to stop seeing ourselves through the cultural and kyriarchical lens and ground our speech in our own bodies and minds, embracing ourselves as we are and not as we *should* be/think/act.
For the most part, I totally agree. I almost wish the phrase “I’m too fat” could be banned from our vocabulary. I remember a very thin friend of mine complaining one day about how fat her wide hips were, and seeing out of the corner of my eye how my much-heavier friend kind of sank into her chair in discomfort. I don’t think my thin friend had any idea she had just offended someone else in the room.
But I’m struggling with the curly hair example. For one thing, I’m not sure that I think saying “I want my hair to be straight” is any less of an “anti-curly hair” statement than saying “My hair’s a mess unless I straighten it.” To me, both seem just as open to being interpreted as saying that curly hair is “bad.” (Just as saying “I want to be thin” or “I wish I were thin” has the potential hidden message that being heavy is undesirable)
As a woman who has had curly hair most of my adult life, I agree with Alexis in that for me at least (and I think many curly-headed women) saying “My hair is a mess unless I straighten it” isn’t about our feelings about curly hair in general, but about our lack of ability to control the hair on *our own* head. I admire curly hair, I think it’s beautiful, and have thought so on women who wore it proudly despite frizz, etc. But try as I might, I’ve yet to find a good way to wear my hair curly and have it look good. So I usually straighten…(or wear it short, as I have the past 3 yrs). I wish I didn’t have to, but it’s either that or hate the way my hair looks.
I know the point of this post is to point out how OTHERS might perceive a statement rather than how the speaker necessarily means it, but I’m struggling to find a way that I could express my personal frustration with MY hair so that someone else won’t take offense or take it personally (even saying “I don’t like the way my hair looks when it’s curly” seems like it could imply that I think anyone with curly hair like mine doesn’t look good). This then feels limiting, like I can’t talk about how I feel about my own body for fear it will hurt someone else’s feelings when that’s not the intent at all.
Marcy — yeah, I fucked up the hair example. Mea culpa.
You’re right.
I don’t think it’s possible — or beneficial — to try to avoid all personal offense; what I want to try to avoid, and help others avoid as much as they choose to, is offensive statements against an entire marginalized group, or which rely on the -ist memes that fat = bad, kinky = bad, etc.
For a language suggestion for your case, how about: “I have yet to find [or haven't found] a way to wear my hair curly that I like.” It doesn’t say your hair is bad, it doesn’t say curly is bad, but it does express your feelings about your hair and why you straighten or cut it short. (Or, if it’s longer and unstraightened: “I can’t stand my hair like this.” Just not “My hair sucks because it’s so curly”, which relies on the assumption that really curly = bad.)
And, of course, if none of that rings true to you, well, ok then. It’s more important to get our truth out, however imperfectly, than to be stifled for fear of not doing it “right”.
I’m fully on board with the notion that we all need to own our own feelings, and that when someone else comments on their own body they are not necessarily making a universal judgement. I also accept Shiny’s point that sometimes, one doesn’t want or need or cannot articulate more clearly – sometimes, comments about our bodies are rooted in fairly deep-seated angst and sometimes they say more about our general mood than anything more specific and as such, they don’t bear much examination. Still: we have a responsibility to others to be a little bit aware of the messages we are sending out, when we can.
But I think it’s very important to acknowledge that there is a very strong cultural script surrounding these issues. And as much as I would like to ‘own my feelings’ and not take offense at a thinner woman calling herself ‘disgustingly fat’, the fact is that when a woman does this, it taps into the cultural script about how fat=bad and that is a universal statement, right there, whether she intends to be making it or not. Now, I think this only applies to certain types of body snark/body shame. (I’m talking mostly about weight here because that’s the area that resonates most with me, although I know there are other body concerns that have similar impact.)For instance, if someone talked about how she felt she couldn’t wear open-toed shoes because she didn’t like her toes – I wouldn’t feel it was a judgement on my toes. We don’t have a particularly strongly adhered to beauty standard regarding toes (that I’m aware of anyway!)
So I suppose what I’m saying is that, yes, one may genuinely feel as an individual, ‘too fat’- but commentary on weight comes with so much loading that I think a greater awareness of its power is necessary. That doesn’t mean I’d advocate for a ban on any negative language around weight and size – just that I prefer the people around me to use more nuanced language in that area, to own their feelings, to be conscious of how their feelings about their body may be influenced by kyriarchy, to be aware that if they tap into the narrative of fat=bad that’s going to impact on those around them. For the most part, they do these days, and I am thankful for it. I’m also perfectly capable of brushing off one or two comments, or of empathising with a (thinner) friend who is having a particularly hard time, or who has a real shame about her big thighs, or whatever. So I wouldn’t want to jump in and silence Shiny in the kind of situation she’s describing, or anyone else. But I think it’s when unchecked and thoughtless self-criticism is repeated over and over (and when this happens, it’s usually the case that other women chime in and it becomes a big ol’ self-hate gossip session) it is incredibly painful to be around.