This morning, while trying to convince myself that I do indeed enjoy oatmeal for breakfast, I flipped on the Today show for some brainless chatter. The chatter was indeed brainless, but no less inspiring of RAGE, for all that.
I'm too lazy to find a video of what I saw, so I will just describe with as much sarcasm and hyperbole as I can muster:
A lady was on talking about the so remarkable and surprising findings that women average one breathtakingly negative thought about their bodies per waking hour. Of the sort, this lady explained, that that if a significant other was to say suchlike to a woman, that it would be considered relationship abuse. For example, "you're so fat, you don't deserve to have anything you want" or "why would anyone want to have sex with you, with that repulsive belly," and so on.
Minus the impervious-to-all-evidence-to-the-contrary sense of surprise that people in the media express about institutionalized sexism, so far so good.
But then the conversation turned to what you can do about it.
It turns out it's so easy to point the finger at the fashion industry, everything you see in advertising even marginally related to femaleness, the countless monthly publications dedicated to making you feel like you need to be slimmer, sexier, and sassier, public and private fat-shamers crouching in every corner in wait to make you sorry you thought/spoke/felt/existed, "friends" who think the way to bond with you is to describe in excruciating detail each thing they hate about their own bodies and expect you to do likewise, etc. etc. etc., the real problem, ladies, is YOU. And yes, they really did mention all those institutional reasons for why you feel bad about yourself--but just to point out how wrong it is of you to think that these might be actually reasons for your bad body image.
The thing is, YOU think you're fat, so it's entirely YOUR personal problem. And if your daughter expresses negative body images (even at the tender age of 3-6 years old, the TV lady said a study found), that is also YOUR FAULT. Your mission, according to TV lady, is rewire your brain by willing yourself never to think negative thoughts about your body. Because, "neurons that fire together wire together," and if you don't exercise your positivity, your brain is physically imperfect.
So, I guess the problem is not that your body is all wrong and you have to will it, starve it, torture into compliance with impossible standards of beauty; the problem is that your brain is all wrong and you have to will it and discipline it into compliance with standards of mental health that are just about impossible given your actual material environment.
Ah well, it's probably easier to work up a delusional state than it is for me to work myself out into a size 2.
The content of the piece was enough to rouse the rage in me all on its own, but the thing is, right now I'm so, so sensitive to displacing the blame for sexist bullshit about female bodies onto the individual owners of female bodies.
As far as my own body image goes, I usually exist in a very fragile detente between the cultural ideal of what my body should like and what it actually does look like. This is partly about the fat-shaming above described. Turns out, between the stress eating and all the sitting around I do for my dissertation, the size 12 I walked in the grad school doors is ancient history; I will probably walk out the doors with a size 20. I try my damnedest to be kind to myself and look through the eyes of my friends who like me and like the way I look. But I can see the way that some people look at me (or not look at me at all), and it's difficult to maintain the sunny outlook.
The other part is about the precise shape of my body--which is, even in a thinner state, fit to burst with feminine goodies. So, it's tough to figure out how to dress it that (a) suits my feminine tastes and flatters my shape, while somehow (b) looking like someone who might have "serious" ideas. So, specifically, I don't want to wear a sack or eternal turtlenecks, even though that would efface my breasticles enough to satisfy (b). I can't wear button-downs, which normally might fall within (a) and (b), because not even the fat-lady stores make them for women with much up top and I'm not rich enough to afford the one or two brands that make them by cup-size. The jersey dresses and shirts that satisfy (a) never satisfy (b) because anything lower than a crewneck is lowcut on me and a crewneck oddly just makes my boobs look even bigger. So, what I have settled on is to wear the jersey dresses and t-shirts and try (and only partially succeed) in covering up with an eternal succession of modesty camis, scarves, and cardigans. I thought all was well--I have a reputation for being one of the better dressers in the department, and I never felt like any undue attention was being paid to my body over the words coming out of my mouth.
But then, I was informed by one female prof whose opinion I trust, that my clothing was inappropriate.
"For the jobmarket?" I asked (because, well, duh--I was already planning on the torturous search for an appropriate suit and some shirts that could at least be tailored to fit correctly).
Yes, that, but also always, it turns out. Because we all know what sexists oldsters inhabit the academy. And I don't want to give out "another" message. And by the way, I'm never supposed go visit (male) Professor X in the outfit I'm wearing right now. But, I should't be paranoid because, no, nobody's ever actually said anything about it.
I tried to take this in the spirit of constructive advice in which she said this was given. I couldn't because it was also revealed this professor also just disapproved because "bodies are distracting"--which is a whole other topic. So I will just stop at the advice to hide my body so as to avoid the lechery and misogyny of some old (gatekeeping) farts.
So, yes, I agree: I won't hang my tits out for a job interview, and I will wear something that looks like the put-together professional people will want to hire.
But, no, I'm not going to put on some shapeless sack. I know I might be putting my employability at risk by dressing like I'm not ashamed of my female body. But really, is the answer to institutionalized sexism just to internalize the sexism? The way I dress is not going to change the sexism, but I am more certain than ever that changing the way I dress is going to change me. Since I have had this conversation, I can barely get dressed to go to my cafe or brunch or whatever non-professional life-activity without having to note precisely and exactly where my neckline falls and having some minutes of angst about whether that's too low for the world to see. Now I get to enjoy the exquisite self-consciousness of having a body that neither conforms to the general standards of femininity and is too feminine according to the standards of the narrow community of academia. Because being "feminine" or "sexy" is mutually exclusive with being capable, serious, and smart. Neat. Just fuckin' neat.
I'm just starting to be able to stare down the little slut-shaming voices in the mirror in the morning. Which is the only way I can manage to come around to feeling OK about myself. I just don't think I'm capable of the kind of double-think that would allow me to externally conform to the masculinist standard of dress but somehow internally resist believing that dressing any other way makes me incompetent, superficial, and stupid. If I'm going to start shopping for turtlenecks and the fleece tuxedos that people 'round here wear all winter, the slut-shaming voice is going to end up being my own internal voice. Just like that fat-shaming voice that the TV lady wants me to internalize.
Besides, I can't afford a new wardrobe. Feminism, at least, is free.
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