TW/ SA
Some of us may be accustomed with the phrase ‘internalized male gaze’ – a person’s creation of their self-image that aligns with the male voyeur and pleases them. It would suggest that we, especially as women, create our identities and behavioural patterns based on what some external gaze has dictated. The patriarchy dictates consciously and unconsciously how we feel about ourselves and how we behave. In turn, we subconsciously create behaviours that aim to appease and please it. Simone de Beauvoir asks the reader in The Second Sex how one could create a private self-image when the socialization of the sexes has been dictated by patriarchy, creating women’s view of their physical self as a mirror of a patriarchal society. In this essay, I want to reflect on my own relationship with my body and how others’ view of my body has created the way I perceive and live it.
The way we understand and perceive our bodies is a complex phenomenon. It is an ever-changing thing and can be easily influenced by outside influences such as beauty trends or other people’s comments on it. The earliest recollection of my body being sexualized was in middle school. I think I must have been twelve when I started overhearing boys’ comments on my body when I was going up the stairs or when I was wearing leggings to school. Even teachers and other adults made me more aware of my body and how it was or could be perceived by others. I remember being told not to wear a crop top because of what other people would think of my body and how it would be displayed.
At that young age, I learnt that I had no control over the way my body was perceived and exploited by others. It did not matter that in this instance they had not physically touched me. I was aware that my body was made into an object of fantasy and desire against my will. Before I was even able to understand what was happening to my growing body and create a healthy dynamic with it, it was taken away from me. Instead, it became public, judged by others. This experience all felt very violating, like I had lost control of my body before ever having it. My body was theirs before it ever was mine.
Furthermore, this period of life is one in which we are easily influenced by others and internalize many codes set by society. We never escape from the grasp of society and as soon as we are born, standards are set upon us. During our teenage years, however, many of the codes are about our bodies and are set in context with sex. We also become more exposed to adult issues and standards. We are still kids but learning how to exist and fit into the adult world. The codes change, and our relationships to our peers too.
I learnt early on that if I sexualized myself, I felt like I regained some control over how my body was perceived. I learnt that sexuality and my body could be used as a weapon to attract and feel more desirable. Mine and many of my peers’ self-worth and body image became interwoven with how it was perceived by men and being desirable felt like a compliment. Being seen as desirable to men meant you were popular. I remember how central male validation became. We envied the girls who were pretty and got male attention, trying to become like them; wearing more revealing clothing and creating a persona that was docile and sweet to the boys. I remember how out of place I felt if I didn’t get as much attention at a party as my friends.
I am sure many of you can relate to this experience. Suddenly, the conversations we used to have about our dreams and what we wanted to be in the future turned to conversations about boys and who was getting the most attention. Lists appeared, ranking us from most to least desirable. We became objects of desire not only to our peers but to older men too. As I discussed with my friend on my podcast, Floor Time with Ace, some of our peers would engage in relationships with older boys - receiving their attention was almost seen as a prize. The need for this attention became a dangerous obsession for some, while others tried to disappear and became uncomfortable at the idea of being perceived. I would navigate between the two, often craving older men’s attention but feeling uncomfortable and dirty when I did receive this attention.
Only recently have I started to de-sexualize my relationship with my body and create a different relationship with it. By talking with friends, I have realized just how much I have internalized other people’s perceptions of my body. Learning to love my body on my terms meant recognizing that I did not have a personal relationship with it and that there was a lot to deconstruct. One of the first things I had to learn was that my body is much more than a sexual object. It is strong and powerful and enables me to do such amazing things. I found the gym to be helpful in seeing what my body was capable of. I have to come to terms with the fact that the way my body is perceived by others is out of my control and more importantly, that it should not have an impact on how I view it and the relationship I have with it. I am learning to see my body as the vessel through which I will make my dreams and aspirations come to life. I think the hardest part of this journey is finding a balance between a healthy sexuality and a non-sexual relationship with my body. Creating my sexuality in a healthy way is very important and exploring it can be empowering. However, it has to be on my own terms.
Even though for many other reasons like chronic pains, my relationship with my body is complicated, decentralizing sex from my relationship to it has freed up space to work with it on different criteria.
~ Ace De Baets
Citations
Beauvoir, Simone de. 2015. The Second Sex. London, England: Vintage Classics.
Resources
Floor Time with Ace
so well put
Great article !