I was taught to be a good feminist and turn my nose up at porn and popular culture that tried to teach me that my worth could be measured by how desirable I was to a man.
While I resisted the idea of the cultural objectification of women, I discovered my very vanilla life as a university professor, with two kids, a husband, and a dog was filled with it. How was it possible that I — a self-proclaimed feminist with a Ph.D. — had no idea how to be a subject in my own life? This not only puzzled me, it embarrassed me. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. So many of us have turned down lipstick and heels for sweats and running shoes, thinking that is resisting objectification, but all the while, we have erased ourselves from our own lives.
Part of resisting objectification — the part I hadn’t seen in my own life — is how being an object doesn’t just mean being used by others, it can also mean being passive and overly agreeable. I realised that too often I don’t hold my own space or boundaries — I say “yes,” “sure,” and “of course,” a lot more than I should. To resist objectification, you have to be an active participant in your own life and make choices that are right for you — not other people or society.
I am also trying to make time and space for myself and to explore spaces designed by and for women. Maybe that means attending a burlesque festival with a whole range of bodies and aesthetics, as one of my research assistants did. Maybe it’s subscribing to a feminist porn site that lets you explore many different kinds of sexual and sensual content.
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