![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
faewitchThis post has been a long time coming, it has percolated in my brain on more than one occasion and has finally been sparked by a post by Girlwithholesin.
She comments that one of the reasons she doesn't talk about some her experience is the fear of being judged by other feminists. I know that feeling all too well.
During my early teens, I was actually pretty happy with my body. I had issues with it of course, but on the whole I liked the way I looked. Certainly I liked it enough to wear clothing that clung to the nascent curves. On the other hand, I had days where I felt off, we all do. Those days when the mirror just doesn't seem quite as friendly as it should for whatever reason. On those days, I had a way of cheering myself up. I put on 'nice' clothes, a summer dress, a strappy top and long skirt or jeans (I don't remember doing this in bad weather), and I headed outside. Whether it was walking into town, going to see a friend, or going to the park, I would walk SOMEWHERE and make sure that people got to see me. On those days I counted the number of times a car horn beeped at me or someone whistled or I heard cat-calls, and I smiled a little wider at each one. I was attractive, I was becoming a woman and clearly these people saw it and appreciated it.
I can't say exactly when I grew out of it, at some point when I realised the difference between complimentary and objectifying I think. Although that's not entirely fair, there are still days where it makes me feel better about the way I look even while I am mentally fuming at the society that creates such a situation. A situation where it is acceptable for strange men to pass public comment on a woman's appearance and expect her to appreciate it, and a situation where I am so damn insecure about my appearance that this anonymous objectifying crap CAN make me feel better. These are the experiences I don't talk about, because they make me feel like a bad feminist. Hell, they make me feel like a bad person because, by accepting this treatment I am tacitly condoning it and encouraging a society in which it happens to others.
Most of the insults I have received, I have simply laughed off, they have been related to my mode of dress rather than my actual appearance. Or they have been aimed at the company I am in. Likewise, I have been lucky to avoid aggression (from strangers anyway) when I have ignored advances or offered suggestions on what they can do with their 'compliments'. On one occasion I with a girlfriend, some young (probably teenage) males yelled something at us from an upstairs window as we walked past. When we ignored them we were accused (?) of being lesbians...at which point we stopped and kissed. Was it a bad response? Possibly, I'm not sure whether it would encourage them to repeat the behaviour or not but it certainly shut them up at the time. The point was that they had offered a label which they considered to be insulting, we showed just how little we were insulted by it. However, there is a problem there as well, the culture of entitlement which says that men who offer uninvited comment on women's appearance/existence are entitled to a polite response. While the most reasonable of them simply expect to be thanked, for their passing objectification, the responses range from the sublime to the Isla Vista shootings.
To take the subject of harassment in the form of compliments to a smaller scale, let's look at LRP events. Ten years ago, I thought nothing of getting falling down drunk, I don't remember half of what I did in the evenings when the bottles were going around and we were mostly out of character. What I do remember is seeing people looking at me differently, expecting to be allowed more liberties in terms of hugs, kisses and even grabbing at my backside. I consider myself partially to blame in this case, whether you agree or not, however, that is no excuse for people to assume that things I had ignored or not noticed while I was heavily inebriated were just fine the next morning. In some cases, it has not even been a case of things I don't remember while drunk, I have also had experiences where a brief flash of bra while I have been getting changed (I'm not hugely modest when it comes to that kind of thing, I think being a drama student knocks it out of you), gives them permission to comment on my breasts and more.
Although the hobby as a whole is improving, it still has a reputation for being rife with sexism. We are slowly managing to convince the single male contingent that female roleplayers are not in the field looking for sex, nor are they 'easy lays'. Unfortunately, it does not change the fact that I got to a point where I could not take any compliment I received on the field at face value. Someone commented on my makeup and I checked to see whether they were looking down my top. Someone said something nice about my costume and I took a step away, out of arm's reach. It spread over into the real world as well, I've never been good at accepting compliments, I tend to blush and mumble because saying thank you always seems arrogant, but for a while, they actively scared me. I thought that there must be an ulterior motive. Even women didn't escape the paranoia, either they were just being polite or they thought I was a /bitch/impostor and were taking sly digs at me. There are a very few people who I met in those years who I am still friends with, those are the ones who asked how I was feeling the next morning, helped me fend off people who I didn't want to talk to, and were more interested in making sure I was properly hydrated than commenting on the way I looked.
A lot changed between early teens and twenty something, even more has changed since then. I may no longer be happy with my body but I have learned that the only person I need to dress for is myself, that I am happiest just ignoring the cat callers, that I have more fun when I don't drink myself sick, and that not all compliments come with expectations. Oh, and to check before sticking two fingers up at the person who just sounded their horn at you in the street, sometimes it's your partner's dad behind the wheel and he's just saying hello...
She comments that one of the reasons she doesn't talk about some her experience is the fear of being judged by other feminists. I know that feeling all too well.
During my early teens, I was actually pretty happy with my body. I had issues with it of course, but on the whole I liked the way I looked. Certainly I liked it enough to wear clothing that clung to the nascent curves. On the other hand, I had days where I felt off, we all do. Those days when the mirror just doesn't seem quite as friendly as it should for whatever reason. On those days, I had a way of cheering myself up. I put on 'nice' clothes, a summer dress, a strappy top and long skirt or jeans (I don't remember doing this in bad weather), and I headed outside. Whether it was walking into town, going to see a friend, or going to the park, I would walk SOMEWHERE and make sure that people got to see me. On those days I counted the number of times a car horn beeped at me or someone whistled or I heard cat-calls, and I smiled a little wider at each one. I was attractive, I was becoming a woman and clearly these people saw it and appreciated it.
I can't say exactly when I grew out of it, at some point when I realised the difference between complimentary and objectifying I think. Although that's not entirely fair, there are still days where it makes me feel better about the way I look even while I am mentally fuming at the society that creates such a situation. A situation where it is acceptable for strange men to pass public comment on a woman's appearance and expect her to appreciate it, and a situation where I am so damn insecure about my appearance that this anonymous objectifying crap CAN make me feel better. These are the experiences I don't talk about, because they make me feel like a bad feminist. Hell, they make me feel like a bad person because, by accepting this treatment I am tacitly condoning it and encouraging a society in which it happens to others.
Most of the insults I have received, I have simply laughed off, they have been related to my mode of dress rather than my actual appearance. Or they have been aimed at the company I am in. Likewise, I have been lucky to avoid aggression (from strangers anyway) when I have ignored advances or offered suggestions on what they can do with their 'compliments'. On one occasion I with a girlfriend, some young (probably teenage) males yelled something at us from an upstairs window as we walked past. When we ignored them we were accused (?) of being lesbians...at which point we stopped and kissed. Was it a bad response? Possibly, I'm not sure whether it would encourage them to repeat the behaviour or not but it certainly shut them up at the time. The point was that they had offered a label which they considered to be insulting, we showed just how little we were insulted by it. However, there is a problem there as well, the culture of entitlement which says that men who offer uninvited comment on women's appearance/existence are entitled to a polite response. While the most reasonable of them simply expect to be thanked, for their passing objectification, the responses range from the sublime to the Isla Vista shootings.
To take the subject of harassment in the form of compliments to a smaller scale, let's look at LRP events. Ten years ago, I thought nothing of getting falling down drunk, I don't remember half of what I did in the evenings when the bottles were going around and we were mostly out of character. What I do remember is seeing people looking at me differently, expecting to be allowed more liberties in terms of hugs, kisses and even grabbing at my backside. I consider myself partially to blame in this case, whether you agree or not, however, that is no excuse for people to assume that things I had ignored or not noticed while I was heavily inebriated were just fine the next morning. In some cases, it has not even been a case of things I don't remember while drunk, I have also had experiences where a brief flash of bra while I have been getting changed (I'm not hugely modest when it comes to that kind of thing, I think being a drama student knocks it out of you), gives them permission to comment on my breasts and more.
Although the hobby as a whole is improving, it still has a reputation for being rife with sexism. We are slowly managing to convince the single male contingent that female roleplayers are not in the field looking for sex, nor are they 'easy lays'. Unfortunately, it does not change the fact that I got to a point where I could not take any compliment I received on the field at face value. Someone commented on my makeup and I checked to see whether they were looking down my top. Someone said something nice about my costume and I took a step away, out of arm's reach. It spread over into the real world as well, I've never been good at accepting compliments, I tend to blush and mumble because saying thank you always seems arrogant, but for a while, they actively scared me. I thought that there must be an ulterior motive. Even women didn't escape the paranoia, either they were just being polite or they thought I was a /bitch/impostor and were taking sly digs at me. There are a very few people who I met in those years who I am still friends with, those are the ones who asked how I was feeling the next morning, helped me fend off people who I didn't want to talk to, and were more interested in making sure I was properly hydrated than commenting on the way I looked.
A lot changed between early teens and twenty something, even more has changed since then. I may no longer be happy with my body but I have learned that the only person I need to dress for is myself, that I am happiest just ignoring the cat callers, that I have more fun when I don't drink myself sick, and that not all compliments come with expectations. Oh, and to check before sticking two fingers up at the person who just sounded their horn at you in the street, sometimes it's your partner's dad behind the wheel and he's just saying hello...
