How Lingerie Empowers Women to Embrace Their Sexuality
From the iconic French label, Eres to high street brands Boux Avenue and Ann Summers, the connotations associated with women’s undergarments are fascinating. Feminism and lingerie have always had a rocky relationship, as historically, women’s undergarments have been utilised both as a means of expression and repression. The trend in the last 50 years has moved away from protecting chastity towards pushing for more liberated ideas about women’s rights to express their sexuality. Think of Madonna’s iconic Gaultier corset during her 1980s Blonde Ambition Tour which paved the way for new interpretations of traditional undergarments in the following decades. However, the lingerie industry is still looked down on by some due to its reputation for pandering to a supposed male fantasy.
Social dress codes traditionally appear to express greater concern about controlling women’s sexuality and bodies in comparison to their male counterparts. But, in recent years, the perception of the lingerie industry has been going through a dramatic shift. The early 2000s saw big brands such as Victoria’s Secret begin promoting increasingly erotic advertising campaigns, consequently furthering the objectification of women in the media. However, now many women are turning away from tight push-up bras in favour of more comfortable and supportive brands like Neon Moon and Toru & Naoko, which reflect changing cultural attitudes on diversity, body positivity and gender fluidity. The once-celebrated Victoria’s Secret has become outdated following controversies over its limited, narrow-minded portrayal of female beauty. In contrast, SavagexFenty has been celebrated for its inclusive casting and designs for every shape, size and skin tone.
I grew up in a conservative subculture. While at school, the lengths of girls’ skirts were measured with rulers to ensure modesty and female students were forced to cover up in the classroom in case their bodies distracted male students. This sends the message that male students education and classroom comfort is more important than female, and validates the societal fixation on women’s bodies resulting in us being seen mainly as sexual objects for consumption. Consequently, we are prevented from being valued for our brains, interests, and achievements, resulting in the subsequent policing of women’s bodies and activities that is so familiar in British society.
In 2003, a study was published by Martie G. Haselton about gender-based differences in sexual misperception. In 2014, this study was replicated by Norwegian psychologist Mons Bendixen to examine the cultural differences in a more sexually liberated country. It was discovered that men are much more likely to misinterpret interactions with women as sexual, something that many of my female peers can relate to. For example, a woman bending over to pick up a pencil might be interpreted by a man as signifying sexual attraction.
This over-sexualisation is a concept familiar to a significant proportion of women. Many of us experienced it from the onset of puberty, when we received our first catcalls as our bodies started to change, and when boys began to equate our worth to our bra sizes. As a 15-year-old, I began experiencing an onslaught of unwelcome sexual attention — from my classmates, strangers in the street, even my family — and I unconsciously began to adjust my behaviour. I didn’t want to attract anyone who would feel entitled to objectify my body.
As a mixed-race woman, I also discovered that my ethnicity was often linked with fetishisation, simply based on preconceptions harboured over how a BME person is supposed to be. The sexualisation of BME people has its roots in history as well as modern media. We are portrayed as promiscuous, flirtatious and accepting of sexual propositions, serving only to silence our reactions and objections as “abnormal” before they’re even expressed. The message society dictated was clear — I had to cover my body, inhibit my expression, personality, and hobbies to be seen as someone worthy of safety and respect. So, I cultivated my “nerdy” side, wore baggy clothes and neglected my appearance to stop unwanted physical interactions and comments, in the hopes that I would no longer receive this negative attention.
Oversexualisation forces society to see women in a way that restricts self-expression — a right that everyone should have. Our culture is too caught up in what can be considered a sexual economy, which is the belief that “sex sells,” driving the mindset of younger girls that their appearance is their most important quality. Resulting in that instead of embracing who they are, they focus on sexualising themselves to convince society of their worth.
Today’s new visual language and increasing focus on diverse, natural beauty as well as prioritising comfort show that fashion can benefit our well-being and perception of self. And now, more than ever, this is a message that is resonating with women who — rather than have their mental health eroded by unachievable images of over-sexualised perfection and limitations due to enforced modesty — are demanding to be represented by the brands they choose to wear.
This is where lingerie comes in. Wearing lingerie is an important statement a woman can make about herself. It allows her to choose when she’s sexualised, and by whom, taking away the control and entitlement that some people have in viewing women as sexual objects. And therefore, sending a message to society that it is her body and her choice, and she can wear whatever she wants.
References:
Image 2: victoria’s secret | Athena LeTrelle | Flickr
Academic Studies
https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/147470491401200510
