Slut shaming and the politics of tight clothes
There is no shortage of slut bashing in this world.
I remember one of the first times my mother told me that what I wanted to wear was inappropriate. I was about 8, and loved wearing bright colors and crazy patterns (clearly, not much has changed!). I had this gorgeous white ruffled tank top that I inherited from an older friend, and that I thought looked fantastic on me. My mom saw me in it and told me that I couldn’t wear sleeveless shirts because my arms were too fat.
When I was 12, I had bought my first black miniskirt, and remember walking home from the bus while the mean boys in my neighborhood shouted insults at me, taunting me. “Do you have a boyfriend? Tell us his name!” they sneered. Later that year, the popular girls in school talked loudly and pointedly behind me about how some girls had legs that were too fat to wear knee socks like the ones I happened to be wearing.
A few years after that, a rumor circulated around my high school that I would sleep with any boy who would date me. Yet, I had never even kissed anyone at my school, let alone slept with them. It had everything to do with the fact that I was a punky girl who wore tight pleather pants, red patent stilettos, and had pink hair and her eyebrow pierced.
After college, I had a job at a health food store where my standard work outfit was a pair of pants and a form-fitting shirt. One day, I was crouched down to rearrange some cans when the owner of the store walked behind me. She bent down and without asking, tugged down the bottom hem of my shirt. “Too much skin was showing,” she explained, referring to the 2 inch span of lower back that you could see when I was bent over.
I also remember my first femme idol. I remember how I saw her out at a queer event, and how long and how hard I stared at her. She had had the audacity to wear a corset that prominently displayed her extremely generous cleavage. And a short skirt. And heels. And she was fat. I remember the simultaneous feeling of discomfort and envy. I wanted to be that, to look like her. I wanted to be a larger than life sexpot who everyone in the room turned their heads to. But I also couldn’t imagine willingly showing off my body like that. I didn’t wear my clothes baggy, but I also didn’t dare put it on display like she did.
Pretty soon after that, she became my friend. And I started exploring what it meant to be femme. My friend wore delicious curve-hugging clothes that highlighted the shape of her body. I was fat too, and had only ever learned that fat was meant to be tucked in and molded. My friend paid no attention to any of the old rules I had come to live by, and I found myself constantly challenged and in awe of her bravery. Even though we were friends, I still remember that simultaneous feeling of discomfort and envy when I watched her take fashion risks that I couldn’t even imagine daring to try. I had been taught to be my own body police.
Over the years, as I’ve built up an incredible community of queer fat femmes in my life, I’ve also seen the slow and steady evolution of the comfort I have with my own body. In these years, I’ve had many firsts. Wearing my first mini-dress in public. The first time I wore a dress so tight I couldn’t sit down very well in it. My first bikini. My first bikini on a public beach.
In the queer fat femme context from which I operate, blatant displays of the body can be sources of power and strength. We wear our sexualities like rhinestone-covered girl scout badges, showing off for ourselves and each other as much as we do for others. No, you don’t have to wear something short or tight or sparkly or see through to be seen as sexy in my community, but those things also aren’t judged as “too much.” In my world, “too much” is not just accepted, but welcomed. I see my gender as a simulacrum of womanhood; a copy of a copy of a copy that I’ve remixed, revamped, re-imagined, and reclaimed.
And this is also why, when someone tells me that my clothes are “too tight” and that “you don’t have to wear tight clothes to be sexy,” I feel rage. I wonder if they know how hard I had to work just to feel like I was even allowed to wear those clothes, much less feel confident and beautiful in them. I wonder if they’ve ever been slut bashed, and wonder if they’re policing my fashion because they’ve been slut bashed. But I especially don’t understand it when those criticisms come from other supposedly fat-positive people, because in my world, letting the outline of your belly show in a dress, or wearing something sleeveless that doesn’t hide your arm fat isn’t just ok, it’s appreciated. Tight clothes on fat bodies are inherently political, and I would even say moreso when those tight clothes look damn good and are worn with pride.
I don’t need everyone to like the clothes that I wear, but I am also attuned to the undercurrent of slut shaming that is so often levied against people who wear revealing clothes. I would ask those people who feel discomfort and/or disgust to think about what it is that’s behind those feelings. It took me years to unlearn all that crap that I had been fed about the appropriate way to wear my fat, and I still have days where I cringe at the sight of my belly poking out in a dress. But then I also remember that embracing my fat and being body positive isn’t just about loving the “acceptably fat” parts of me (i.e. tits and ass and hips). My belly deserves to be honored too. And, like a wise friend of mine once said, “Back fat is the new cleavage.”
I adore your clothes and you really inspire me to try to drop my baggy clothes and start dressing in more clingy outfits, and your use of colours is just amazing. Personally, I don’t think you need to justify your reasons for dressing the way you do one bit. You and your friends always look gorgeous to me and I can only wish that I had friends like that!
Also, you have TOTALLY got me ebaying for a bikini now. I’m off to Florida in May for a week in Clearwater, and I WILL wear a bikini.
I love my bikini! It really was amazing the first time I wore it out in public, because I felt so happy and excited, like I was “getting away with something” that I “wasn’t supposed to do.” I highly recommend it.
Thank you so much for posting this. (I feel like saying that after every post I read here!)
When I was in high school, the biggest fatshion risk I took was wearing a halter top (with jeans) because it was nice out (and I lived in the icy north, where winter lasts for 6 months). I was feeling pretty damn good about it–it had been a kind of boring, plain black jersey top, but I spiced it up a little with silver fabric paint and sparkly ribbon and thought it looked awesome (I still think it did). The guy sitting behind me in homeroom said something like “What the hell are you wearing? That’s disgusting,” presumably indicating the fact that I wasn’t covering my considerable upper arms. That comment prompted my self-consciousness for the rest of the day, and I never wore it again, except maybe or twice once under a hoodie. I haven’t had bare arms in the spring/summer since, but this year I can’t wait to wear sundresses *without* a t-shirt or a shrug or a cardigan and not care about whether people are judging my fat arms.
excellent post. i am definitely putting this in my “required reading” link list.
the comment that follows is a form of one i made on the lj comm, but it applies here too:
i think slut-bashing is most definitely about policing bodies. the fat femme, as out so deftly outline here, represents “excess” on a number of levels–in both size and costume–a flouting of the standard or ideal that makes people who subscribe to or struggle with that ideal deeply uncomfortable.
i am fond of dropping the F-bomb, and slut-bashing–which seems entirely about policing women’s bodies as well as the fear/policing of female sexuality (especially a fat femme one, which is unapologetic and playful in its perfomance)– is in line with Foucault and his arguments about surveillance.
telling someone to “cover-up” or that their clothes are “indecent” or “too tight” is about bolstering a certain ideal through the exclusion of others. they characterize the body as something that is inflicted on culture, something defined in relation to a certain ideal, something that ought to–for the safety/well-being of others/society–need be contained.
of course foucault’s panopticon argument is related to prisons–if prisoners feel watched all the time, they are less likely to revolt–but it definitely applies to bodies in culture. the more we check our reflections in mirrors, and worry about visible fat, the less we’re likely to take apart the implications of why we’re worried. the less we’re likely to confront social injustice on a more global scale.
of course there is a whole other discussion we could have on femme and camp, and how it both embraces and corrupts the idea of “garish” or “grotesque” but maybe that’s another post for another time.
Awesome post.
(P.S. Loooooove FemmeCast!)
That is all.
It took me such a long time to feel comfortable in my body, and to begin to reclaim my femininity. Up until I came out as queer, my whole life had been a struggle against femininity, an ongoing attempt to avoid and deflect attention from men and from society at large, a railing against any gender presentation that I thought was compulsory.
Now, when I have my tits out and my curves hugged tightly in a wiggle dress, it is incredibly empowering. Because I found my own way to it, and it belongs to me. It is my particular brand of joyful gender play and self-expression. People who look at me and say, “oh, she’s such a victim of the patriarchy and societal expectations” couldn’t be more wrong.
So I love how you put it:
In my world, “too much” is not just accepted, but welcomed. I see my gender as a simulacrum of womanhood; a copy of a copy of a copy that I’ve remixed, revamped, re-imagined, and reclaimed.
Amazing post, thank you Tara!
Wonderful and articulate post. This really hit home for me: “And this is also why, when someone tells me that my clothes are “too tight” and that “you don’t have to wear tight clothes to be sexy,” I feel rage. I wonder if they know how hard I had to work just to feel like I was even allowed to wear those clothes, much less feel confident and beautiful in them. ”
Thank you for putting that into words!!
Thanks, all!
The outpouring of support has really been affirming. There’s so much shaming that happens in this culture around femme genders and overt sexuality that it can feel like a constant uphill battle to continue to feel good about oneself. Thanks for cheering me on!
I think that when a fully-grown adult chooses to wear provocative clothing, she should understand that her decision may actually provoke some people.
Polianarchy - Of course. I am not saying that people won’t or shouldn’t have reactions to what I wear. But I also don’t have to agree with how people react, or attempt to challenge them on what they say or do as a response.
I wonder if they know how hard I had to work just to feel like I was even allowed to wear those clothes, much less feel confident and beautiful in them.
This entry made me cry! Damn you, woman! When I see beautiful fat women in tight clothes my immediate reaction is envy. I wish I had that courage, I wish I had that strength, I wish I had that attitude to scream FUCK YOU with my clothes.
(Also, Fat Women in Tight Clothes: my new band name!)
Heidi, I know you’ll get there! It took me *years* of work to do it. And you know, there are baby steps between tent-like clothes and so-tight-you-can’t-sit-down! :)
I think you may be referring to the reaction chubby girls get while trying to wear the same things slender girls wear and not actually ’slut wear’. A larger girl wearing a bikini has the same bits covered as a smaller girl wearing a bikini, yet somehow it is more obscene. A larger girl wearing a short skirt has the same length of leg showing, but somehow it’s more risque. It has something to do with fat being mostly unacceptable in society so showing the same amount of skin is considered less acceptable because MORE skin should be covered due to being fat - I.E. in order to not be labeled a slut, the amount of acceptable skin shown/shape defining decreases exponentially as the size increases. It could also be because fat people are supposed to be ashamed of their size, therefore showing it off is the skinny girl’s equivalent to slutting it up. For example: a chubby girl wearing a mini skirt is like a skinny girl just wearing panties. It’s the same level of shock and disgust.
It’s something that definitely needs to change. It’s especially disturbing how most of the people who think fat people should be covered up are the same who get loud about advertisements showing rail-thin girls because it gives real girls body-image issues. Hypocrisy.
I have been “slut bashed” too many times to count.
I am an average/thin sized girl, and every time I wore a tight shirt before my “boobs came in”, the other girls would say things like, “I don’t know why flat chicks always wear tight shirts to TRY to be sexy”. I am so familiar with the pointed barbs. I just don’t know why women’s bodies are such a battleground, and why it is seen as culturally acceptable thing to tell someone when their outfit just happens to be displeasing to THEM.
As an ex-anorexic, even at my now healthy weight of 130lbs, with a little belly on me, I am still told I am “too fat” for certain outfits, still overhear “Ew!” on the beach in my bikini. I can only imagine what anyone bigger may have to deal with, and that is HEARTBREAKING.
It has also taken me years to come to terms with this body and to have people spit on that with no concern just sickens me. If anyone I know slut/fat bashes around me thinking I’ll not be offended, I do read them the riot act. We have too much to worry about without having to base our bodies on other peoples’ expectations. Thank you for this article.
Wow, girls. Wait until you are “old” 30 and up…you’ve never been so shamed. Don’t even try to go near a mini skirt or anything that doesn’t come from Chicos or some other frumpy, I’ve lost the will to live shop.
You can’t wear anything cute even if you have the body for it because you’re over the hill.
So, stand your ground now because the worse is yet to come.
This post and the comments are simply stunning. Thank you so much, Tara.
I wasn’t “slut shamed” too much… but I was pretty damn aware of the other girls that got it! And I never could figure out why. But yes, having the *audacity* to be a girl / woman - and have breasts, or a belly, or an ass - is a big part of it.
I am only now just feeling brave enough to wear dresses. I only own one (but I really like it). I hope that it really is “baby steps” because I really am ONLY making baby steps. Maybe one day I’ll be that beautiful fat woman in too-tight clothes that inspires other women.
Thank you Tara.
I wanted to say that this post inspired me to write this post on my blog: http://thecuriousescapadesofdeedeethecat.blogspot.com/2009/10/fat-women-in-tight-clothes.html
I post this not to advertise my blog (which is a mixture of anti-oppression politics and cat pictures!) but to give thanks to where it is due. (So, thank you).
This morning I was reading people’s comments on facebook about how “spandex is a privilege, not a right” and I had the good fortune to stumble across this blog (which has now been favourited/bookmarked).
Thank you for bringing attention, analysis and challenge to this issue.
You rock!
Monika
I read the piece about provocative clothing above, and that it may provoke people. I must disagree. People are responsible for their actions and there is NOTHING that a person can wear that will elicit a response that another person has no control over. People make choices and are the only ones responsible if they verbally or sexually comment, harass or assault another person.
The idea of provocative clothing is very gendered; typically it is used to describe women’s clothing. And it is used to justify all sorts of terrible behaviours.
When fat women wear clothes that are snug fitting or revealing, there is particular hatred as if fat women must hide their bodies and their fatness at all times. Part of fat liberation is saying a big F you to this idea, and wearing whatever the hell we want.