When a dress speaks more than me
When a dress speaks more than me
By Marta Mancosu
Can a garment make me a sex object?
Can a short skirt label me “easy” along with the price tag?
Can my uncovered piercing give free rein to indecent comments or half-open mouths ready to taste you in thoughts (if you're lucky)?
Can a flirty boot make me feel slutty?
Is it right to leave those fishnet stockings closed in the closet, in the company of that fuchsia lace top or with that short tank top that you have longed for and that is now sleeping in the dark because you feel wrong wearing it?
Is it normal to give up something you like, in order to avoid words, comments, alluring glances at the town bar?
Why is this happening? And why, in the end, is it always me who gives up? Is it always us?
Do you remember the story of privilege? Here it comes back, of course. In fact, privilege is the child and consequence of society and society, as you well know by now, is based on patriarchy.
Ugly beast, eh, the patriarchy ; he has decided to represent us as purely sexual objects, as decorations, as a target, as a topic of discussion for everything we do, for everything we say, for what we decide to wear.
Ugly beast, yes, because because of these paradigms we feel and will always feel the object of insults, judgements, looks; a sort of infinite and tireless pungiball . But tired we are, yes we are.
Ugly beast, yes, because it makes me and makes us give up something for fear of being looked at and judged negatively; then, if we don't give up and decide to dress in any way, we know from the outset that "we'll make people talk". All this happens because even today, in 2021, there is a very strong patriarchal culture that sees women (and their bodies, in particular) as mere sexual objects made available to men. In this way, however, not only are we sexually objectified, but we don't even enjoy the freedom that every human being should have, that freedom to make decisions for oneself, to be sexually explicit for oneself because "no, this is not good". .
We have immersed ourselves * all * in this culture; the same that, in fact, leads men first of all (but not only) to feel free to be able to behave as they want without anyone saying anything; the same one that allows them to express aloud what's on their mind, putting us in difficulty, making us feel uncomfortable and above all making us feel wrong and, believe me, it's not a good feeling.
"But don't care, who cares..." - "So you play their game, you're weak, you'll always be weaker" - "Don't pay attention, they don't count for anything...". Yet, those comments and those looks have always counted for something.
Personally I've always had (and still have) a complex relationship with my body, just as I've always had a strange and complex relationship with the clothes I decided to wear (but here too, be ready for another story). I spent my teenage years pondering my every outfit choice; I "dared" with short dresses, denim miniskirts and sheer tights, but (because a but never fails) I've always tried to stay within the threshold that I myself defined as "of modesty", because well, you never know.
Yet, strangely, that wasn't enough.
Yet, that threshold of decency was kicked in the face and paved every time. And then, if we think about it, who decides what this threshold is?
And yet, that denim skirt has often made me the subject of discussions, because "You're a little too naked", "Your ass can be seen", "Kill those legs", "A little more, come on".
Why do I have to feel wrong about wearing something?
Why can't I feel comfortable in the clothes I choose, without worrying about being judged, pointed at, sexually harassed and offended?
We are born and grow up in a society that establishes "rules" and we must comply with these rules, or rather, should comply. These rules tell you that if you want to be spared, you don't have to uncover yourself, you don't have to show your ass, you can't go around without a bra with your nipples in sight, if you can see your thong you're someone who likes to have sex and so on. 'infinite.
Remember, however, that if you decide to break these "rules" imposed by society, well, it will always and only be your fault. In the worst case, then, "dressed like this, she asked for it".
Society doesn't help us, but it never helps us at all.
It doesn't help us because it puts us under pressure, it continually offers us fake, impossible and non-existent models of beauty. It doesn't help us because it deludes us, at least it tries, then it's up to you to have the strength to row against, to work on yourself and understand that you're okay with it, regardless.
It doesn't help us because we have to be told how slutty we are dressed up like this, how much we could have thought about it before choosing those jeans, how absolutely out of place we are in that transparent shirt. We have to put up with male but also female judges because unfortunately, and I'm sorry to say it, slut shaming is a social phenomenon that affects men and women without distinction (those who have never felt their eyes on a dress or a look that is a little too – according to them – provocative?).
It doesn't help us because whatever we decide to wear, it will send a message.
It doesn't help us because it makes us feel guilty about something that has nothing to do with guilt and guilt is the most dangerous key that, time after time, pushes harder and harder until we become nothing, until we feel like nothing.
Because of this society that never helps us, but rather always complicates everything.
The central point, however, is always and only one: if I decide to wear one thing rather than another, I don't have to justify myself nor do I have to be judged.
My clothing does not determine my person; my clothing has to make me look and feel good.
MY CLOTHING DOESN'T SAY YES!
Martha
