Musings of an Inappropriate Woman

From the vault: "Something about the way you look tonight"

Over the weekend, Fuck Politeness linked and responded to a post by Melissa McEwan, about the often confronting experience of witnessing sexist behaviour from men one likes: “intellectual men, clever men, engaged men”. Men who identify as progressive.

McEwan writes:

Not every man does all of these things, or even most of them, and certainly not all the time. But it only takes one, randomly and occasionally, exploding in a shower of cartoon stars like an unexpected punch in the nose, to send me staggering sideways, wondering what just happened.

Well. I certainly didn’t see that coming…

Men aren’t the only people do it, of course, nor are they immune from being on the receiving end of it. There are all sorts of reasons a person might flinch at that kind of subtle (to the person delivering it, at least), institutionalised, unintentional prejudice: race, sexuality, class, the shape and abilities of one’s body. I’ve been guilty of it myself, on this here blog - and the times I’ve had it pointed out to me, while they’ve felt like a bit of a slap in the face, have also been hugely instrumental in challenging and refining my politics.

In any case, FP and McEwan’s posts reminded me of this one I wrote around five years ago now, back in my blonde, pink-clad phase. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Clearly, like many blonde, pink-clad lasses, the peroxide and stereotypically feminine attire did not prevent me from thinking critically or articulating my thoughts. I mention my aesthetics only because they contextualise some of my comments. Like being described as a “barbie doll”, which would be utterly nonsensical now.

Names and identifying details removed, natch.

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It occurred to me last night that perhaps my tendency to interpret every comment any guy makes about another female’s appearance (“[redacted]’s hot”, “[redacted] has fat thighs”, “We used to like to play this game where we walk down the street and rate each girl that walked past on her face, breasts and legs”) as personally offensive to me might not be purely a sign of Absolut Neuroticism so much as an accurate sign that, well, it really is about me.

Not about me exclusively, of course, but about women in general.

When I hear guys I know begin to evaluate another girl’s appearance it makes me feel uncomfortable because it serves as a reminder that they, and others, are evaluating my appearance, that there is very little I can do to control their evaluation, and that I have no way of ever really knowing what that evaluation is.

Last night, I went with a few friends to a bar in Sydney’s CBD. Towards the end of the night, a group of people a little older than myself came into the bar, including a blonde, possibly tanned, girl in a trench-coat. I probably wouldn’t have noticed her if Guy1 hadn’t pointed her out.

“Is she for real, or is she made of plastic?” Guy1 asked us.
Guy2 started laughing and Girl and I just looked confused. “Huh? Who?” I asked.
“The blonde in the trench coat,” Guy1 said.
“She looks like she’s plastic,” Guy2 said.
“Are you saying she’s good looking, or…?” Girl asked.
“No, she just doesn’t look real…” someone said.
“She just looks like a blonde girl in a trench coat to me,” I said.

So there was discussion for a minute or so on how this girl apparently didn’t look real (and she really did just look like a blonde girl in a trench coat to me) before I collapsed back into my chair and said, “I hate men.”

“No you don’t,” Guy2 said.

“Yes I do,” I said. “I hate men.”

“It’s a love-hate relationship,” Guy2 said.

“No, I really do hate men.”

“Why? Guy1’s being totally PC… he’s saying people should just be real and not look plastic,” Guy2 said.

I couldn’t pinpoint what I found so upsetting and offensive at the time, my reaction was purely visceral. But in retrospect, it was because she could have been me - or any other woman, really. Just because she was blonde and apparently (Girl decided) looked like Sarah Michelle Gellar didn’t mean she deserved to have people talking about the way she looked when in all likelihood all she wanted to do was sit down and have a couple of drinks with her friends.

I’ve had guys refer to me as “that girl who looks like a barbie doll” before, and while it may be intended as a means of saying “she’s attractive”, all it really does it reduce you to a flat, plastic sex object. Equally, I’m sure I’ve had guys refer to me as “an ugly ho-bag”. The difference between the two is minimal.

Of course, there are ways we can express our appreciation of other people’s appearances and attractiveness without being demeaning. I genuinely appreciate it when people who know me tell me I look beautiful, or fabulous, or that I am wonderful. Because there are occasions (particularly when it comes from the mouth of someone who isn’t inclined to say it to every girl and her pet budgie) when it seems like they really mean it. And it doesn’t seem demeaning because I know that they know that there is more to me than that.

But yeah. Objectification pisses me off.

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Now, Guy1 and Guy2 would probably flinch as much at being labelled sexist as I did at the judgemental things they said. They certainly did when I called them out on other instances of subtle sexism. But the point isn’t to have a go at them so much as it is to show how ingrained such attitudes are, how even people who don’t mean to offend can do so accidentally. And the fact that they didn’t mean to hurt anyone doesn’t change the fact that they did.

I often think that it would be more productive to discuss sexism, racism, classism, homophobia, fat-phobia and the like not as something that defines a person, but as thoughts and acts that people commit. It would certainly be easier to call people on their sexism if that didn’t make them “a sexist”, to get people to own up to, challenge and change their racism if admitting it didn’t equate to being evil.