I've been thinking a lot, lately, about the objectification of women in our society. Thinking of how I have been raising my daughter and trying to teach her how to navigate through the waters of sexual objectification in our society and still be her own beautiful self. I have come to really internalize my own journey of understanding; how at first I was a willing participant in having myself viewed as a pair of breasts, a shapely pair of legs, a pretty face.
I don't recall when I became aware of myself as a person with sexual power. Like many girls, it was just the way life was - girls were to be as physically appealing as possible, our beauty determined by attention. The pretty girls got awkwardly flirted with by their male counterparts. The pretty girls received extra favor with both male and female school staff. The pretty girls had friends who all were moderately to exceedingly attractive. When puberty began shifting the dynamics of what a pretty girl was viewed as - I remember boys taunting girls about being "surfboards" when they (the girls) were behind in development compared to their classmates. I remember being pleased that I wasn't teased; I wasn't a surfboard - I had breasts. Breasts meant that I was acceptable. Even though, at the time, I wasn't seen as one of the pretty girls (socioeconomics played a part in one's desirability as well, and unfortunately I wasn't one of the winners of this award) - so even though I wasn't one of the "pretty girls" I noticed the increase in male attention. Boys were a little bit nicer to me, talked to me more, and some even got to know me - strictly because I had breasts. The more my breasts grew, the more attention I garnered from my male counterparts. By high school I started wearing tighter tops, or tops with lower cut collars. If I wasn't in school, I started wearing tops which were barely passable as sports bras. I told myself it was because these clothes made me feel good. These clothes were who I am. The thing I didn't realize then was that I felt good about myself in these clothes because I was getting male attention and approval. I was feeling good about myself for superficial reasons, and my self-esteem was plummeting.
For me, the skimpier clothes went hand-in-hand with budding promiscuity. I talked my first serious boyfriend into trying sex when I was just barely 15. I felt good for a while with just his attention, but soon that wasn't enough. I liked my boyfriend, so I kept him around - lying to him as I slept with a number of guys during high school. Most of these guys were my friends; those who were always complimenting my body, my breast, my thighs. I still didn't really think much of myself, I felt like I was never enough really - and that somehow these guys lusting after me made me worth something. I "fell in love" with many of them, thinking I was going to leave my boyfriend and have some wonderful romantic relationship with one of them. I dreamed about them - any of them - really seeing me for who I was, and loving me for it. I craved the words "I see you." (keep in mind, this was the 1990's, before Avatar made those words a slogan.) In the end though, these guys didn't want me for my sharp mind or my wit - they wanted me for my large breasts and open pants. I hated myself for who I was. I hated betraying a guy I liked (my boyfriend), I hated not being the person I wanted to be, and I hated myself for never being enough that these guys I was head-over-heels with would want to be my boyfriend.
It never occurred to me then that these guys didn't respect me. I didn't occur to me that most teenage guys would sleep with a girl - any girl, pretty much - and having sex with them didn't equate to having real feelings for them. For me, the guys had the power and I was endlessly chasing their attention. It didn't make me worthier. It made me whore-ier.
Media played a large role in how I viewed myself, and also how my mother viewed herself and handed down those beliefs to me. I had confused sexualization with objectification. I wasn't a sexual being - I was acting like an object of sexual nature. I was a pair of breasts. I was a pretty face. I was a trophy to be had. I saw myself as an object. I behaved in a way which not only accepted my "object status", but believed in it as a way to tailor my life around. It is only years later, looking back, that I see clearly what I was doing. It is only now, with daughters of my own to raise, that I am concerned enough with how our society views and treats women to raise my concerns.
We need to teach young girls, young women, to see themselves a whole. Girls need to feel empowered because they are valued for their intelligence, for their wit, for their discoveries, for their research, and for achieving their goals. Our girls' minds and personalities should valued more than their breast size or waist size. Our girls should feel good about themselves for being beautiful without having to show cleavage or bare abdomens or all but an inch of leg. We need to stop telling the littlest girls "You're so pretty!" when we see them; we need to engage their little minds and compliment them on their own merits. We need to demand advertising which is fair; and if sex sells and can't be disposed of - then we need an equal number of scantily clad men draping over sports cars or taking lingering bites of sweets with their plump, moist lips. We need to stop the cycle of girls not only seeing the objectification of their sex - but willingly stepping into that role. This sort of change can only be gotten with an enormous outcry.
I'm not sure that will ever happen, but I would celebrate if it does come to pass.
