Free the Boobs!

Cerise writes:  

            It has been over ninety degrees this week, so I feel this post is especially timely.  I won’t mince words:  I hate bras.  Now, I don’t have a problem if you want to wear them, collect them, or decorate them.  I just don’t want to wear one.  And some people have a big problem with that.  Especially since I am a 46 DD.  But, you see, I feel very strongly that I should be free to go braless, regardless of my size and shape. 

            Why would anyone else care whether or not I wear a bra?  I think I missed the day in school where they explained why women’s bodies should be subject to the control of others.  Because I totally don’t see why that should be the case.  Now, I admit, going braless is not as big a deal as, for example, being able to choose birth control, but I do think it is symptomatic of some rather awful things going on in our society. 

            One of these awful things is called “slut shaming.”  This is the pressure put on women to tamp down their sexuality, shut their mouths, and generally conform to the patriarchy.  If you embrace your sexuality, speak your mind, or rebel against traditional gender roles, you must be a slut.  And, apparently, being a slut is bad.  It means you deserve to be raped, beaten, or even murdered.  That you asked for it.  This slut shaming says “Well, of course she was raped.  She was alone.  In a bad neighborhood.  And she was dressed sexy.”  WTF?!?  I think a woman should be able to saunter down a dark alley at 2 am stark naked and the only thing anyone should say to her is, possibly, “Are you cold?  Would you like to borrow my jacket?”  Slut shaming not only denies women the right to flaunt their sexuality, it also robs them of their voice.  It says that if you are a slut, you don’t deserve to be heard. 

            So, does skipping the bra make you a slut?  Silly me, I think that how you dress has nothing to do with your sexual behavior.  I think they are two totally different things.  I think that they are both NO ONE ELSE’S BUSINESS.  And, really, even if going without a bra did make you a slut, who cares?  If you want to be sexually promiscuous with other consenting adults, that’s none of my business.  If you think that running around with my boobs free makes me a slut, I really don’t care.  That is a matter for me and my sexual partners. 

Oh, you think that my braless state implies that I am sexually available to you?  Um, no.  If you are the type of person who would think less of me because of my underwear choices, then I really don’t think I would ever be interested in engaging in any type of sexual activity with you.  No, not even if you look like George Clooney or Olivia Wilde.  You are definitely not my type, sweetheart. 

Equal Opportunity Gratuitousness, Olivia Wilde

Gratuitous George Clooney Picture

Perhaps you think my husband should tell me to cover myself?  Or that he might be embarrassed by my boob bouncing ways?  Allow me to digress with a little story.  A friend of mine wears hijab, the head scarf worn by some Muslim women.  She has worn it for years and has an assortment of cute, fashionable scarves to match various outfits.  Her husband gently suggested that, at least while they lived in the US for grad school, she might consider skipping the head scarf.  She was nonplused and asked him why.  He said that people might think he was oppressing her and that her choice to cover her head might make him look bad.  She snorted at him and gave him her unconditional answer:  “My head, my business.”  Being a smart man, he never brought up the matter again.  And, yes, my husband is also a smart man and he would never try to tell me how to dress.

Won’t men be distracted, though?  Even uncomfortably aroused, if they have to see my braless breasts?  How will they take me seriously at work, or even pay any attention to anything I have to say, if my breasts are just hanging out there, flaunting themselves?  Well, I do wear a shirt, for crying out loud.  It’s not as if the actual bare flesh is showing.  Also, breasts do not exist for the visual consumption and enjoyment of men.  Last time I checked, they were baby feeding devices.  The sexualization of the breast is just something our culture teaches.  If thinking of breasts as sexy is something you can learn, then you can just bloody well unlearn it. Or at least learn to contain your wildly rampaging sexual thoughts in the presence of my braless mammary glands. 

But they are so distracting, those oversized sweat glands.  Yeah, so is parsley stuck between someone’s teeth.  Or blue hair.  Or really cute skull-shaped rhinestone earrings.  But you know what?  Get over it.  They’re just tits.  Half of the world’s population has them. They’re everywhere!  Can’t you learn to think about something else?  Like, just maybe, what I am saying to you?  If you can’t, it really is your problem and not mine.   If you cannot control your body (and your brain), you have a serious problem.  Do you pounce on every bacon cheeseburger that goes by, even if it belongs to someone else?  Do you get out of your car and punch the driver who cut you off in traffic?  Do you scream at the radio when you disagree with the political commentary?  (Oh, wait, I do that sometimes.  Bad example.)  No, you control yourself.  You rein in your id and suck it up.  Because you are an adult human being. 

If it is my job to hide everything that might cause some man, somewhere, to think about sex, I am going to need to buy a tent.  Should I cover my ankles because some men have a thing for that body part?  Or maybe I should wear a veil to hide my lips, which are a much more erotic body part than breasts?  Or cover my hands?  Really?  Because that argument leads to a slippery slope that ends in wearing a burka.  And, even then, some man somewhere will find something to be aroused by.  There is a long tradition of poetry in the Arab world that glorifies things like a woman’s graceful walk, her delicate footprints, the whiff of her perfume—all things that are exposed by even the most concealing clothing.  Oh, perhaps I should just stay indoors, where no man might see me or even smell me, so I don’t risk arousing a man.  Otherwise, I am just asking to be raped.  Wait, where is the SarcMark on this keyboard? 

Disclaimer:  I don’t really think that all men have a problem with braless, outspoken women.  I hold up the generic “men” because they are cited by those who think I should wear a bra.  What will “men” think of you?  How will “men” handle it?   These imaginary ravening beasts fortunately do not represent most males of my acquaintance.  Thank heavens. 

Next time it is my turn to post, I plan to address droopy boobs and public breast feeding.  No, all my posts will not be about tits, I promise.