Huzzah.
Bodies are super, and I love mine. I will be joining in on this fun little game with a rather choice blouse I wear fairly regularly. Mark your calendars for Monday, April 26. If you're on Facebook, attend the event!
Jen has been quite fortunate to attract some rather splendid attention, including, possibly, from some grand names. Good for her! However, the comments are... well, they leave much to be desired.
It seems to me that there has been an interesting variety of comments. I find it even more interesting that so many chose to respond to a female-sourced act of minor exhibitionism by suggesting that one's display of her own body (and, naturally, my display of mine) is objectification, as though she is not in control of herself. Unbelievable. Either women ought to be permitted to do as they wish or they must be told what is best for them by someone else. It cannot be both.
The proper response to an asshole claiming that women being uncovered is calamitous can never be that a woman being uncovered may be calamitous, no matter how well-meaning and "feminist" the speaker. Human bodies, male and female and otherwise, are beautiful, attractive, and enticing. They ought to be. While objectification is a reality, it must never be permitted to be a prison. Those with ill intentions may ogle. But, we must not allow them to control our behavior by covering ourselves nor should we presume that this is some given or right of theirs to do. Nor should we equate all fascination and admiration of sexual attraction and sensuality and bodies with objectification.
There were a few rather lovely comments which discussed the fact that the cleric Sedighi did not merely suggest that immodesty causes earthquakes, but that immodesty causes adultery which then destroys society which is inseparably tied to the stability of the planet. A true experiment would include women who dress immodestly and incite (or participate in) adultery to test whether adultery causes earthquakes, women who dress immodestly and do not incite (or participate in) adultery to test whether women's bodies are inherently corrupting, and finally a control group of women who do not dress immodestly. The experiment would be confounded, naturally, by whether some women's bodies are more corrupting than others, and by how immodestly one must dress to prevent earthquakes. No matter. The point here is this, the claim centers on promiscuity, and the inability of men to control themselves in the face of the corrupting influence of women.
In truth, this makes this experiment a perfect exercise in testing objectification. It is a constant reality for this half of the species, that I am at risk because of the social ideas regarding my body, who it belongs to, and what I am permitted to do with it or put on it. I'm not reinventing the wheel here, you've read all this before. We, men and women, are involved in an old and changing dance. We have reached a place in history in which we have learned that we can control our steps. Now the task at hand is to control those steps instead of having them defined for us. So, I can choose to display or hide my body as I see fit and you can choose to admire or malign or ignore it as you see fit. But, it is not yours to control. My body and my behavior are my own and neither influenced nor determined by your choices. The wrongful acts of another speak only of that individual, and not of me or my choices. It is only when we have owned this and taught it to our children that we can overcome the veil of objectification.
Here, the suggestion has been made that women must remain covered to prevent catastrophe. Then, in response, women have declared, independently, that they will defy that order. There have been three general kinds of responses. 1. Other women proudly embracing their bodies, whatever their shape, and choosing to display them; 2. Men or women celebrating these women and their bodies, even if focusing on the prurient; and 3. Others who insist that the first type are undermining their credibility by displaying themselves and/or disclaiming the second type as objectifiers.
But, freedom for women to be equals with men cannot center on "behaving appropriately" in order to avoid undermining the power of our voices. Our power does not come from our bodies, but it is certainly not diminished by them. Equality does not come from me denying my body and you ignoring it. It is only when I can display myself and you can admire me and we can do so respectfully making any choices about behaviors without respect to the display or admiration of the moment that we have beaten this cancer.
Now, all of this would be entirely mute if this had been some calculated media campaign, like the PETA campaigns cited by one commenter, but it isn't. It's a bunch of women who refuse to be shamed into hiding, chosing instead to mock those who would shame them.
And, another minor quibble. This discussion of size. It's silly. But, it's not just silly. Human breasts are fantastic things. They have evolved to serve a dual purpose of sexual signaling and nourishment (See Volk cited in Mainstream Parenting Resources). They accomplish both of these tasks regardless of size or shape or perkiness. And we have managed to create a hostile environment to all bearers of breasts, likewise without regard to size or shape or perkiness (or utility, honestly). Large breasts are sexier or offensive or trashy or ugly or wasted depending on whom you ask. Small breasts are childish, unsexy, better, prettier. Perky breasts are "coming out of her neck." Heavy, pendulous breasts are ugly and out of a naturalist magazine. Breasts that nourish are some kind of political statement (either in the positive or the negative) and the superior sign of true, unselfish love. Breasts that do not nourish are selfish "sex toys." There was even some of this in the comments. It's unseemly, especially when one poster, with a few tapped keys, swiftly and thoughtlessly dismisses the pride of so many women declaring their own buxom nature by stating how much prettier one variety of modified sweat glands are over others.
Speaking of shame.
I was blessed (or cursed, depending on how I feel on any given day) with rather generous breasts. They've caused me nothing but problems. The torment I received in school because they developed early (fourth grade) or were too large and must have been purposely enhanced (tenth grade) was unbearable. And they only got bigger after that. It is a constant struggle to find support garments that both fit and last long enough to be worth the shipping (good luck finding them in stores), not to mention finding blouses designed to accomodate my larger-than-average pair without having seams in funny places or more cleavage than I may want. Then, as an adult, I developed a nodule which brought a cancer scare, a good dose of poking and prodding and scanning and having more people than I'm comfortable with feeling me up, and resulted in a possibly incorrect diagnosis of fibrocystic breast then later suggestions of a clogged duct and attempts to clear it which resulted in mastitis (that was fun, and the short version of the story). But, dammit, they're mine! My frustration with them has resulted, more often than I'd like to admit, in my participation in this cock fight (heh) over size. But I'm older and wiser now.
I've included what is probably too much information to let you in on a little secret. Breasts are more than appendages for the use of others, be it sexual or nutritional. They are parts of our bodies and parts of our identities. They are prone to trial and illness just like the rest of our bodies. They bring us both pleasure and heartache, in turn, and have a real impact on our lives and our health that goes far, far beyond the obnoxious pink ribbons splashed on every possible product. And yet we continue to subject them to discussions over their worth because of their size? Really?
Personal preference is one thing; but please, think before you make a comment about breast size.
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