Musings of an Inappropriate Woman

Guest post: Your body is never the problem: a letter to a sixteen year-old on clothing, style, and creepy old men

A guest post by Hugo Schwyzer, first published on HugoSchwyzer.net.

Rachel, who blogs at Musings of an Inappropriate Woman, poses this question from her 16 year-old self: how do I stop creepy old men from hitting on me? Rachel writes of a recent encounter with her favorite advice columnist, Melissa Hoyer:

Me: “OMG, I loved you column! When I was 16, I was going to write in to asking for advice. I wanted to know how I could dress differently to stop attracting creepy old men and start attracting guys my own age instead.”

Melissa Hoyer: “Er, I don’t think I would have been able to help you with that one.”

Rachel explains:

At the time, I had come to the conclusion that the reason I was attracting more attention from men who were 18 or 20+, right through to 40 or so, than guys my own age (the ones I was actually interested in) was because I dressed in manner that was too “adult”. I wanted to write to Hoyer because I was searching for a way to reconcile my desire to dress in clothes that I felt an aesthetic affinity with, with my desire not be designated an “adult” - an identity I was far from ready to take on at 16 - or a piece of meat because of it.

It was a question that was about far more than fashion, though - and I suspect that’s the reason Hoyer told me she wouldn’t have been able to answer it (although I like to think she would have been touched had I ever sent it off). At its heart, it was a question from a girl/young woman trying to come to terms with and navigate her own objectification.

As a feminist and a father, a professor and a former youth leader with years of experience working with teens, I thought I’d take a shot at answering Rachel’s query.

If I were writing to a 16 year-old named Rachel, I’d say:

Dear Rachel,

I wish that I could offer you specific fashion tips that would guarantee that creepy older guys wouldn’t hit on you. For that matter, I wish I could share with you how to dress in a manner that would assure that your peers wouldn’t frequently judge you, either to your face or behind your back. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you how to ensure those things — because the sad truth is that no matter how you dress, no matter what you wear, you will be perceived by some men as a target for their unwanted advances.

You may have heard people say things like “girls who wear short skirts are asking for ‘it’”. By “it” they may mean anything from rape to crude comments and penetrating stares. But as you may already have noticed, girls aren’t immune from harassment when they’re wearing simple or “modest” garb either. I’ve had plenty of students who’ve been accosted while wearing sweatpants or long dresses. I’ve had Muslim students who chose to wear head coverings, and they’ve been harassed both religiously and sexually. The bottom line is that there’s nothing you can wear that will guarantee respect from others. And the reason is that the root of this problem isn’t skin or clothing, it’s our cultural contempt for women and girls.

Have you noticed the way this works yet? If a girl is thin, she’s accused of being “anorexic”; if her weight is higher than the cruelly restrictive ideal, she’s “fat” and “doesn’t take care of herself” or “has no self-control.” If she wears cute, trendy clothes she “only wants attention” and if she wears sweats and jeans, she “doesn’t make an effort.” If she’s perceived as sexually attractive, and — especially — if she shows her own sexual side, she’s likely to be called a “slut.” If her sexuality and her body are concealed, she’s a “prude.” As you’ve probably figured out, the cards are stacked against you. You cannot win, at least not if you define winning as dressing and behaving in a way likely to win approval (or at least decent respect) from everyone.

The advice I’m going to give may sound clichéd, but it’s important nonetheless: you should dress in a style that makes you comfortable.

Comfort, of course, has many dimensions. There’s physical comfort to consider. A fashion choice that leaves you sweating and itchy on a hot day, or shivering on a cold one, is by definition uncomfortable. When the weather’s warm, wearing more revealing clothing is often as much a matter of comfort rather than style.

Of course, there’s a psychological aspect to comfort, too. The more revealing your clothing (regardless of your reasons for wearing it), the more of your body others can see. It’s important to be honest with yourself about how that makes you feel. Different people have different levels of comfort with having their bodies noticed. That’s a normal variation, and the key thing is to be aware where you are on the spectrum. If your peers or parents urge you to dress in a style that leaves you feeling vulnerable and uncomfortably exposed, you have a right to push back against them. The reverse is true, too.

It’s important too to note that however much skin you are revealing, you are never responsible for another person’s inappropriate behavior. Save for the blind, we are all visual people. We notice each other. There is no right not to be seen. But there is a right not to be stared at with a penetrating gaze of the sort that makes you feel deeply uncomfortable. While it may seem that you get those leers more often when you’re showing more skin, you’ve probably noticed that you get those creepy stares at other times as well. And the key thing you need to know is that men can control their eyes — they really can — and women can control their judgment. Your body is not so powerful that it can drive others to distraction. (And yes, if we’re honest, sometimes we wish that our bodies were that powerful, particularly if it meant drawing the attention of someone to whom we are attracted!) If some men choose to be distracted by you, that is their choice, a decision for which they (not you) are solely responsible. No matter what anyone tells you, you need to remember that.

It is not inconsistent to want to be seen and not be stared at. You know the difference, I suspect, between an “appreciative look” (which can feel very validating) and the “penetrating stare” that leaves you feeling like crawling into a hole. While people are not required to give you the former, it’s not unreasonable to expect them to avoid giving you the latter. It’s also not unreasonable to want guys your age to be interested in you, and want the creepy old ones to leave you alone. Remember, it’s not hypocrisy or naiveté on your part to dress in a way that you hope will get you that positive attention you want without also bringing the negative attention you fear and loathe.

Sometimes, of course, we need other people’s insight and advice. There are little fashion rules that it can be helpful to know (even if only for the sake of breaking them, like the old one about not mixing browns and blacks, or not wearing dark-colored bras under light-colored tops.) Friends and family members may have suggestions for what colors or styles are most flattering to you, and sometimes those suggestions may be helpful. I’m certainly not suggesting you shouldn’t listen to those tips. But I want you to know there’s a world of difference between saying “you know, I think lime green isn’t really your color” and saying “you shouldn’t wear short skirts, because then men will think you’re easy.” The former bit of advice is rooted in an aesthetic truth (aesthetics is a fancy term for the study of what is beautiful or good), the latter in an anxiety that is based on a false assumption about male weakness.

It’s okay to ask, when headed to a new school or a workplace or a party, about the dress code. Few of us want to stand out as totally different from everyone else. Most of us can figure out that what you wear to a birthday party at the water park is different from what you would wear to a funeral service in a church. Dressing for the occasion is part of living in a community with others. But that standard should still have room for a lot of flexibility. A bikini is probably not appropriate at Thanksgiving dinner (unless you’re poolside), but when it comes, say, to school, don’t let anyone tell you that can’t dress up (or down) depending on how you feel.

Here’s a key point: As a father and a teacher and a youth leader and a feminist man who has been around a while (and worked with thousands of young people), I want you to know that while not all men are safe and trustworthy, men’s bad behavior is never, ever, ever, ever, ever “your” fault. Your miniskirt doesn’t cause guys (of any age) to do anything they don’t choose to do (no matter what they say to the contrary). It’s not your job to dress to keep yourself safe from men.

Lastly, let me say that finding your own style is an adventure. It involves a lot of trial, and some not infrequent errors. I promise you, ten or twenty years from now you’ll look at photos of yourself at 16, roll your eyes, and say “What was I wearing? What made me think that looked good?” Despite what some folks tell you, these are not the best years of your life. Not even close. And in terms of your style and your beauty, you aren’t anywhere near your peak. I say that not to belittle you, but to reassure you that you don’t have to get it right yet. You have much more time than you think.

Much love and best of luck,

Hugo

Elsewhere: HugoSchwyzer.net

A sartorial query from my 16-year-old self: how do I stop creepy old men from hitting on me?

When I was a teenager, I used to love reading the weekend papers and magazine supplements. In the Good Weekend, I loved Maggie Alderson’s musings on style and Stephanie Dowrick’s philosophy; in the Sunday Telegraph it was Melissa Hoyer and the illicit thrill of Ruth Ostrow (whose sex column was always good school bus fodder).

Back then, Hoyer wrote an advice column of sorts as part of her fashion page, responding to readers’ sartorial quandaries. Meeting her at an event on Wednesday night, it all came flooding back.

Me: “OMG, I loved you column! When I was 16, I was going to write in to asking for advice. I wanted to know how I could dress differently to stop attracting creepy old men and start attracting guys my own age instead.”
Melissa Hoyer: “Er, I don’t think I would have been able to help you with that one.”

Sixteen-year-old girls unfortunately being something of a magnet for creepy older men. And “creepy old men” constituting to me at 16 pretty much anyone who had graduated from high school.

As I’ve written on more public records before, my late high school “style” was ostensibly built on that of Cameron Diaz: short skirts and dresses, moderately high heels, cardigans and neck scarves.

If I’d been doing it 10 years later, they might have called me a victim of “raunch culture”, but as I wrote in the aforelinked article, I wasn’t doing it to be “sexy”. The only kind of sexual attention I was interested in at that point was the “safe”, innocuous, loving kind now captured best by Justin Bieber. What I wanted to be (among many other things, of course) was beautiful, with a sense of style on par with those featured in Who (or People) magazine’s annual best dressed list.

At the time, I had come to the conclusion that the reason I was attracting more attention from men who were 18 or 20+, right through to 40 or so, than guys my own age (the ones I was actually interested in) was because I dressed in manner that was too “adult”. I wanted to write to Hoyer because I was searching for a way to reconcile my desire to dress in clothes that I felt an aesthetic affinity with, with my desire not be designated an “adult” - an identity I was far from ready to take on at 16 - or a piece of meat because of it.

It was a question that was about far more than fashion, though - and I suspect that’s the reason Hoyer told me she wouldn’t have been able to answer it (although I like to think she would have been touched had I ever sent it off). At its heart, it was a question from a girl/young woman trying to come to terms with and navigate her own objectification.

From the vault: Time to whip out Female Chauvinist Pigs again, I think

First published 17 November 2008.

All this “objectification of women” business is giving me the shits.

Namely:

- the equation of attractiveness/”hotness” with not wearing a lot of clothes.

- the fact that we, as women, are socialised to wear clothes that invite the eye to our breasts, legs and thighs, when men do not dress or style themselves in such a way that we might find attractive.

- the fact that my friends and I seem to take pleasure in it when our male friends think we’re hot, even when we don’t think they’re hot.

- that I participate in the objectification of other women by observing “hot chicks” alongside my male friends.

- the burgeoning number of “babes” galleries on Tumblr.

Some obligatory shades of gray:

Is this photo sexist?

Well, probably not, but it is objectifying. And reminds me of a column (kind of second rate, because it’s old) I wrote for alternative teen magazine lip back in ‘05. See more photos here.

******

There’s nothing like seeing shots of your friend flexing his muscles in tighty-whiteys on an online dating site to leave all your opinions about sexism, objectification and swim-suit mags with thoroughly bruised elbows.

An odd introduction to a first column? Perhaps I should set my scene.

It’s a crisp winter’s day in Sydney, and I’m in the Vibewire office, innocently chatting away on MSN Messenger between responding to emails and writing up Very Important Documents, when my friend (sitting in an office across the city, also chatting on MSN between writing up Very Important Documents) asks me if I’d like to see the pics on his new Gaydar profile.

Gaydar (gaydar.com.au, if you’re going to check it out – gaydar.com alone might leave you with an unwanted pornographic surprise), for those of you who don’t know, is a popular online dating service for gay men. Profiles span everything from musical tastes, to personal qualities, to penis size. And, of course, photographs.

That I was being offered a glimpse of his profile was no great surprise. What did come as a surprise were the full-length, headless shots in the aforementioned tight white underwear, from front and back, with lots of, erm, detail.

I responded in precisely the way Cosmo says you should never react to the sight of a man in his underwear. Hysterical laughter.

But big whoop. Young fag hag sees picture of guy she knows all oiled up in his underwear online and giggles about it. No real story there.

But it’s not like my friend is the only one doing it. Gaydar is full of young, buff, flexed-up guys posing like bodybuilders and porn stars. I’ve seen the pictures time and time before and thought absolutely nothing of it. And not once did it occur to me that I might think anything of it, despite the fact that had it been my female friends posting pictures of themselves in their underwear on the net I would have furrowed my brow and struggled to find a polite way to tell them that they were turning themselves not into human beings who happened to be sexual, but into sex objects.

It’s pretty fashionable around Feminismland at the moment to emphasize the positive elements of what were once seen as unrespectable and later as disempowering acts for women – posing for men’s mags, stripping, porn, pole dancing, and talking in detail about your sex life to Rolling Stone. If you pay me to prance around in a bikini because I’m hot, more power to me, so the logic goes. And if I do pout my lips and pull the waistband of my jeans down that doesn’t mean I don’t also have a brain, it just means I’m not one of “those feminists” - you know, the ones who hate men and are all hairy and stuff

Now personally, I don’t agree with that. I don’t think it’s quite as simple as sexy woman = exploited woman, but I do think it’s a bit naïve to forget that only certain types of women are considered sexy in that FHM way and, just as importantly, the men buying the magazines and looking up at the Windsor Smith billboards aren’t generally thinking “wow, she must be really smart to exploit her own flesh like that.”

So if I feel queasy about the idea of my girl friends posting pictures of themselves in their underwear online, why do I just laugh when my guy friends do it?

Sure, doing a quick survey of my guy friends, the popular response regardless of sexual orientation is that they’d love to be seen as sex objects, but some women delight in being sex objects too, so that can’t be the only reason.

I wondered if it was because, in our society, people look at and evaluate women all the time. You’ve got your men’s mags, your New Weekly reporting on the latest celebrity weight gains and diets, guys at parties telling you that if only you grew your hair long and curly, you could be mind-numbingly beautiful (thanks for the tip – and maybe if you had a face and body transplant, you could be vaguely attractive too). My good feminist boy friends comment snidely on women’s resemblence to Barbie in upmarket bars. I like boys, but I can tell you without hesitation that I think Rose McGowan is hot.

Yet, for the most part, guys are spared from this constant surveillance. They look and they judge, and to some extent they too are looked at and judged, but for the most part they can walk happily down the street without someone propositioning them or telling them they look like a horse. Colin Farrell’s weight fluctuations barely rate a mention next to Lindsay Lohan’s.

For the most part guys do the looking, while girls know they’re being looked at. But on Gaydar, it’s not like that. Everyone’s looking, everyone’s being looked at. So by posting pictures of yourself all oiled up in your undies, you’re not just asking others to look at you – you know you’ll be perving on them in exactly the same way in twenty minutes. There’s not the same power imbalance.

But that’s not quite true either. Some men get to do more looking and more evaluating than others. More attractive, whiter, richer men are often in higher demand than less attractive, less white, poorer men. And if everyone’s being judged on how they look with their shirts off, where does that leave the guys with less defined pectoral muscles?*

My jury’s still out on this one, and my feminist elbows still most definitely bruised.

* It goes without saying that not all gay men choose their partners based on how they look in a pair of speedos. But it does go to show that it’s not just women who are reduced to their appearances in the eyes of prospective partners.

The only time I consider plastic surgery is while watching The Girls Next Door.

jaclyn: Too much TV.

Time to whip out Female Chauvinist Pigs again, I think

All this “objectification of women” business is giving me the shits.

Namely:

- the equation of attractiveness/”hotness” with not wearing a lot of clothes.

- the fact that we, as women, are socialised to wear clothes that invite the eye to our breasts, legs and thighs, when men do not dress or style themselves in such a way that we might find attractive.

- the fact that my friends and I seem to take pleasure in it when our male friends think we’re hot, even when we don’t think they’re hot.

- that I participate in the objectification of other women by observing “hot chicks” alongside my male friends.

- the burgeoning number of “babes” galleries on Tumblr.

Some obligatory shades of gray:

- most women (Jessica Simpson aside) do not dress - exclusively, at least - for the pleasure of men. I dress up most days, but I do it because it makes me feel happier and more comfortable moving through the world (although the latter statement itself could do with being unpacked). If I dress in a way that shows cleavage, shoulder or leg (and let’s face it, I often do - particularly on the second front) it’s because it’s what best suits my body shape.

- to be clear, I don’t believe that women “invite” sexual harrassment or assault. I do think, however, that our cultural ideas of what’s attractive/fashionable are wedded to our ideas about what’s sexually arousing.

- “sexiness” can be played at and performed without being all about impressing men.

- women also objectify - and sometimes demean - men with our talk of “hot guys” (hello, Chace Crawford).

- and probably some others I’ve forgotten.

Nonetheless, I think my point still stands.

And while (rigorous self-scrutiny aside) I usually feel pretty good about the way I look, it’s hard to face all these influences without wondering if I should spend more time at the gym, get my make-up applied professionally and style myself in the mould of one of these chicks (or a US Vogue staffer, depending on the whims of the day).