When you use horror and fear as part of your education, you leave behind long-lasting, damaging effects on your recipients. I know the intention is to turn young, nubile girls off sex for as long as possible but these educators don’t seem to realise that this also creates unhealthy and negative associations with not just sex, but your own body and identity itself. These negative feelings do not automatically terminate upon adulthood (or marriage); they can last for life and prevent the poor unfortunate woman from developing a healthy attitude towards sex, herself and her body.

There is also a sexist element in place because it appears that only female students are subject to lectures on abortion and STIs. One wonders whether the schoolboys are also subject to the full glory of 30 minutes of abortion footage in The Silent Scream. If not, then the next question is why? Why are girls harangued on chastity from such a young age, while boys appears to be spared of this ignomity? Why place the burden of self control on girls? Why impute the guilt of “sexual sins” on girls by suggesting that it’s the girl’s fault for getting herself pregnant and having to go through the sinful act of an abortion? It is very difficult to preserve one’s sense of self worth, when on one hand she has very natural, sexual feelings while on the other hand, she is made to feel like a slut for having such feelings.

Sexual confidence is very much tied to the self, and when the self is trampled upon by such negative connotation with regard to sex, you lose that key sense of control over your body. When a woman cannot be confident of herself and her body, how can she be reasonably expected to stand up for her views, such as her views on sex, contraception, and so on?

A good sex education should focus as much on the person receiving the education as the sex act itself. Many times we are too concerned of the appropriateness of the messages we want to convey, but we forget what the person actually needs. When a teenage girl is going through the puberty stage of her life, what she needs is to build up her sense of self-worth, her self-confidence. When a girl is confident, only then can she make confident choices for herself, be it to abstain from sex or to insist on contraception at all times.

I long for the day when we can all speak of sex in a positive, healthy and encouraging manner, for sex is not a shameful act and should never be portrayed as such. Sex is a fantastic and loving activity to engage in with your loved one, as I finally discovered. I hope it would not take our young girls and women that long to find that out for themselves!

by Eveline who attended “Talking About Sex” part of the In Conversation series of discussions organised by the AWARE Training Institute.

The earliest comments I can remember about my physical appearance were all about how skinny and long-legged I was as a kid.

I was called “bamboo pole”; adults often exclaimed at how skinny I was to my mother, and it would inevitably be followed by some sort of advice on feeding me the “right food” to fatten me up.

I was a quiet kid but never stupid; I would pretend not to know what was going on while silently observing the adults. I hated these conversations and I hated how many people saw it fit to comment on my weight in a manner that insinuated that my mother must have been incompetent or a neglectful parent.

In primary school, I always wished I was average-built. I didn’t enjoy being singled out for being one of the few underweight students and having to sit through school-sanctioned dietary talks with my mother. These talks were supposed to be for all students whose weights were out of the healthy weight range, but always geared towards those who were overweight. I always had to sit at the back of the class due to my height, and this arrangement often made me feel as if I was punished for being tall.

I hated how the school uniforms looked on myself — I never fit into them properly, and looked gangly and awkward. When I first met a girl who was of similar build as myself in primary five, we hit it off almost immediately and became best of friends. There was something we shared and understood about each other — how we got teased, how people made comments about our height and weight — that others did not. Finally, I had someone whom I could talk about these issues and feelings freely, someone who understood.

As I grew older, the nature of the comments I received changed. It used to be “Wah! You so skinny! And tall!” in the same tone one would point out an alien UFO, and it started to change to one of envy when I was in secondary school. People would start suggesting that I should work as a model because I was skinny and had long legs. I hardly believed them, because to myself I still saw this gangly, awkward girl.

I never considered myself superior in terms of physical looks to the other girls, who looked prettier with their figures that filled out the school uniform nicely, with curves in the right places. I looked like a bamboo pole with a sack wrapped around it. I still disliked my height for making me stand out, although I was beginning to enjoy being seated at the back of the class (more leg room and room for mischief.)

Eventually, my height and weight became less of an issue to me in my late teens, especially in junior college, where I met many girls who were much taller, and similarly built, that I didn’t stand out so much any more.

I started to see my height as a positive thing. The turning point was when I started attending rock gigs and getting into the mosh pits. It was so much easier to see the show and to actually breathe, because I was about the same height or not significantly shorter than most of the guys in the pits.

And while others started dieting to attract boys, I found myself being thankful that despite all the teasing I got as a kid, the tables are now turned. I didn’t, and still don’t find that being thin is “better”; but I am glad that I am no longer being picked on for it.

I have received so many comments of “Oh my god you’re so skinny and tall! Are you anorexic?” all my life that I have developed a finely tuned set of automated responses. I often rattle off the stock “No, I’ve always been skinny. I have fine bones and a high metabolic rate. I do not have an eating disorder.” without a second thought.

It is often considered acceptable to comment on someone’s weight if they are thin because being thin is seen as desirable. What people don’t realise is making comments like that is as insensitive and rude as going up to an overweight person and saying “Oh god you’re fat! Do you eat fast food burgers all the time?”

Because really, anyone who is thin must have an eating disorder. Why do I have to defend my physical build to random people?

I don’t fault most people for making comments on my weight because most of them don’t realise what they’re doing. But some people can be unusually obnoxious and rude, and for them I have a set of sarcastic responses, crafted and refined through my teens. All-girls’ schools can be vicious, nasty places for an awkward teenager:

“I am not anorexic. I eat three grains of rice a day.”
“Well, I survive by eating air.”
“Me, tall and thin? Nah, it only looks that way because you’re short and fat.”

It was the mid 90s, around the time I had TLC playing on repeat on my MD player that I decided: “i will be the sexy one.” i must’ve been 14.

The complex strain of genetic societal and peer influences that coloured that adolescent identity-forming I don’t recall, but i do remember the conscious decision process and CrazySexyCool – my three choices. Between the three uber-hot members of TLC, Rozonda “Chilli” Thomas, aka Sexy, was the one I most related to. Looking back now on her crimpy perm, midriff-baring outfits and relationship history with a certain cheating hip hop singer she is hardly the role model i needed, but she was, for whatever reason the one i chose.”Sexy… Yes. that will be me.”

And so began my quest to be sexy. As I grew older it matured, like a fine wine, into: understated sexy, effortless sexy. A well-balanced, complex concoction with an aroma of desirable, top notes of “oh-this-old-thing? just-something-i-threw-together!”, and a lingering finish of unattainable. The last bit is key.

The fourth persona that the hip hopsters of TLC had left out of their trifecta was “pretty”. (perhaps they were un-…) That girl-next-door, doe-eyed, sweetness that for me hovered precariously above plain jane. You could never trust the sweetsy ones I always said. Behind their “i need a strong man to protect me” aura they hid manipulative, hypocritical, tai-tai-esque intentions. They liked rich boys. Behind closed doors they wore the pants. They always got their way.

Pretty/sweet/goodygoody was the enemy. Only trumped by the ultimate in cannot make it, the unholy Trying-To-Be-Sexy.

In my mind, revealing the effort one put in to attaining sexiness was attention-seeking, borderline slutty, decidedly unsexy. Sexy is confident, so insecurity, (not to be confused with vulnerability) was the very antithesis of sexiness. For me the definition of Trying-To-Be-Sexy was Mariah Carey, with her plunging neckline and translucent miniskirt, rubbing herself up against the hood of a white Escalade with one the tip of one finger in her mouth. Beyonce, now that was true sexy. Never skanky, just out of reach, completely comfortable in her own skin. Trying-To-Be-Sexy was cast out, shivering and self-conscious. Sexy wasn’t a look, it was an attitude. a fundamental statement that oozed from my pores. when i walked into a room, any room i exhaled a breath of: “Yes, i know im hot. and i know you know, but seriously i couldn’t care less.”

What an overcompensating crock! Particularly the last bit.

I keep using the past tense. I think that’s a little ambitious. These beliefs are so much at the core of my judgement of myself and others. And while last wednesday’s body image talk helped me see through my clever coping mechanism, it didn’t reverse them. I fall easily back into my “i’m unabashedly fabulous” state of mind. I like it. It’s my gig. I’m comfortable there. To make myself less dislikeable I take the piss out of my inner Kimora Simmons with: “Stop trying to be me!” and “Well honey, not everyone can be as fabulous as we are”. Thank heavens for my self-deprecating wit. (because as we all know, funny is very very sexy).

What i do is nothing SHORT of trying. But instead of simply trying to be sexy i take it to the next level trying to look like im not trying to be sexy! Classic!

I consider myself quite self-aware, so when on Wednesday I discovered something so new about myself that shatters my finely-tuned sense of self, the inner voice that usually says; “i am well-adjusted, i love myself, i dont care what people think. i SO dont need to try hard” stops sounding so goddamn self-righteous for two seconds and goes: “Oh…. Er… hmmmm…. OK… What now?”

That voice and I are having a meeting. A conversation. It’s set to be pretty intereseting.

Will I ever stop wanting to be sexy? Probably not. But I hope that ill at least stop needing to be. And that at the very least I’ll stop judging those who do. after all im not so different from the “trying to be” Mariah Careys. perhaps my skirt is a little longer, my cleavage a little less, my booty shaking a little less obvious. Perhaps im just better at hiding my need for approval & attention. Again, that last bit. Is key.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Really, self-improving introspection is kinda sexy. But im aiming for prefer humility, real self-love, not needing/wanting/trying to be. but just being. Just me.

How sweet.

“I think (and I wish I had been there to say it) that the most important and uplifting thing about “body image” to me is that if you look at yourself in the mirror and like what you see, then anyone who looks at you is going to like what they see too. It’s easier said than done of course, because women of all ages have different preoccupations (as we’ve learnt) with our weight, skin, hair, foot size, butts, boobs, etc etc etc. And this coming from a vainpot like myself, honestly. But no matter what, when I look at myself everyday, I tell myself that I was given my nose and my skinny legs and my small breasts and my shortness and that that is what makes me ME, and no one else can have a claim to that. Would I change those things if I had a chance? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t accepted living with them and loving them for being unique to me for the rest of my life. And if anything, that would be the conclusive message I personally would hope to pass on following Wednesday’s meeting. Because to me, it all begins with how you look at yourself.”

And then I read Robin’s statement: “It’s interesting to discover that what passes for self-acceptance may in fact be sophisticated tactics our psyche engages in to distract us from our insecurities.” And I thought, man, what a profound yet elementary truth. THEN – gosh, how long have I been lying to myself?

Why should I have had to learn to accept my height and my lack of voluptuousness? Who ever said that it was unattractive to be any of those things?

I have to concede very superficially though, that we will never be able to run away from what the media has imposed on us, what other people have convinced us of and what we impose on ourselves. We are immersed in a universal culture of never being good enough, and more often than not, it’s the physical aspect of us as people that bears the brunt of it. It is unfortunate but I’d be lying if I said I have never looked at a magazine cover and said, “Damn, I wish I had that cleavage!” or “Ugh, look at her skin.” Forgetting of course that with the advent of Photoshop, nothing is what it seems.

The media is such a double-edged sword.

It seems almost formidable to be able to come up with something that strips away the media’s influence and starts with the self.

I said during the meeting that I am a performer and it would be very difficult for me to pinpoint what someone’s first impression of me is. A very common comment I get is, “I heard this big voice and when I looked for the source, it was coming out of this tiny girl and I could not believe it!” And I always have a little bit of a schizophrenic reaction to that. One part of me loathes that a lot of my listeners think I’m small and therefore young and would never have expected just upon looking at me, that I could be capable of that kind of talent and strength. The other part of me revels in the fact that my voice and talent make an impact that is irrespective of the way I look.

However, that also runs into the way men and women look at me sexually. I’ve been told by a number of people that when I play the piano and sing, it enhances my sex appeal by a ridiculous deal. So because of that, my body image is so intricately intertwined with what people see on stage and it makes things very complex. Despite that, there are still a ton of gigs that I lose to less talented women who are fairer or who exude a kind of sexiness I could never bring myself to exude, or who look more like the girls we see on the front covers of magazines than I do.

Of course, that is just one aspect of my image as a performer. I do pride myself on the way I dress because I see putting an outfit together as an art more than anything. I wear what I want when I perform or when I go out or when I go for an afternoon coffee, I don’t try too hard and I enjoy the fact that my fashion sense is so “me”, that my clothes feel like a second skin. If I wear a short skirt, it’s not because I’m trying to be sexy, it’s just because I feel like wearing it and maybe because it matches the new earrings I’ve been dying to wear. And I think being comfortable with myself is a huge part of what I see as my body image.

I think what I’m trying to say is, with the unfortunate everyday onslaught of the media, we have to find a way around what we’re told beauty and being “hot” is and work with who we are and how we look at ourselves.

To end off, I want to share this piece I wrote when I was 21 (in Tania’s studio in Lasalle at the time):

Satisfied, Naturally

(Stand in front of mirror.
Toss hair.
Satisfied.)

Satisfied? It’s unnatural.

But it’s beautiful. I like it.

Is that the hair colour you were born with?

No, it’s bleached.

Is it supposed to be that straight?

No. It’s straightened.

It isn’t YOU.

Oh, but it is!

It looks so much better than it did before.

When it was REAL?

Who cares what’s real anymore?

No one. That’s the problem.

(Stand in front of mirror.
Bat eyes.
Satisfied.)

What about your eyes? Are they really violet?

No, they’re contact lenses.

So, do you look at the world differently because of them?

No. People look at me differently because of them.

And you like that? Being different?

What’s not to like?

So you equate being unique with being unnatural?

You can’t talk about what’s natural anymore.

Nature died a long time ago.

You evade.

We all evade.

(Stand in front of mirror.
Smooth rouge on cheeks.
Satisfied.)

Your lips are a different colour everyday.

You don’t find that disturbing?

It’s just makeup.

It’s just colour.

It’s just art.

ARTificial, more likely.

It’s not like I’ve had plastic surgery or anything.

It’s a form of surgery.

Only temporary.

You use a contraption to pluck your eyebrows, don’t you?

It’s what I call grooming.

It’s what I call vanity.

And YOU’RE what I call a PRUDE.

Copyright © Michaela Therese

2002

I had it all, the rebonded hair, the coloured contacts and the severely plucked eyebrows. It did make me feel good because I had wanted straight hair since I was in primary school and the contacts were really just a gimmick that made me feel cool. But a couple of years later, I embraced my curls and really started to understand that confidence and self-assurance comes from a place so deep, that you’re the only person who can reach it.

How do we pass this on to teenagers and women young and old? I wish I could say I have an answer. Following everything we’ve discussed and have written about, I am stunned to think that my seemingly indubitable self-acceptance (as Robin said) could really be just an educated way of trying to forget the things that make me feel insecure. But I agree with Tania that a first step is to accept the fact that it’s part of being human to house insecurities and I’d like to add that it’s also very necessary for us to celebrate how far we’ve already brought ourselves and that we’re willing to try to go even further.

It’s hard to talk about beauty without denouncing what we are told beauty is. It’s terribly sad because beauty should speak for itself and yet it can’t because there are too many fallacious references surrounding it. But maybe we can start by constantly reminding people (and ourselves) in the workshops and programmes of that. That as cliché as it sounds, having a positive outward body image comes from inside of you and that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder.

Actually, “self-concious” is generous. “Terrified” is a little more accurate. But don’t get me wrong. It was a good terror. A necessary sort of terror. And to expand on that terror a little bit more, here’s what the discussion inevitably dredged up for me upon reflection :

(Disclaimer : Dirty Laundry Ahead)

I’ve been large all my life. But I’ve never felt particularly ugly because of it. And even though I’ve entertained ideas of losing weight for the purpose of getting healthy, I’ve always had an irrational fear that somehow, working towards such a goal meant I was subconsiously giving in to the same beauty myths I condemn. It’s silly,I know. In fact, it sounds almost like a lack of drive masquerading as feminist adamance. But the fact of the matter is, it’s a genuine conflict I’ve been trying to sort out for awhile.

I attribute my aversion to weight-loss to my mother, who, in the glory of her youth, was a semi-celebrity on radio and tv. Looking beautiful was a big thing to her and it wasn’t enough that her dresser was manic brothel of cosmetics that bordered on being frightening. By the time I was nine, she was going through slimming sessions, buying exercise equipment off sell-a-vision and consuming slimming pills. The only reason I was keenly aware of all this was the fact that she was feeding -me- slimming pills too. I was a reflection of her after all, and the fact that I was overweight was clearly unglamourous.

I’m not even going to address irresponsible parenting at this point. I’m pretty sure you understand why on some level, I reflexively view the desire to lose weight as a trapdoor to disaster. My mother, who was known to be a smart, independant, beautiful woman, was supposed to be in control of her life, clearly, was not.

I remembered this when I got home post-discussion because issues of control seemed to umbrella a large part of yesterday’s discussions. When Corinna asked whether slimming procedures or cosmetic surgery were viewed as empowering or shameful, we realised that that was a tricky question. After all, as Vai noted, feeling the need to conform to certain systems of beauty is a symptom of a sick society and not the cause of it.

In my opinion, feminism goes through cyclical amnesia, especially in places where women’s rights grow parallel to the developmet of urban, media-saturated environments. When it comes to body image, increasingly “sophisticated” societies seem to birth increasingly sophisticated forms of misogyny. No longer are women’s bodies under the control of men. They are instead, informed by media systems that leave misogyny to women themselves. We’re made to hate what we see in the mirror, and made to believe that because of our autonomy, we can, and should, change what we see. We’re diagnosed with problems which aren’t problems,and made to believe we’re empowered by curing them – portruding stomach, blemished skin, wrinkles, the list is endless.

Meanwhile, the fashion and beauty industries get a large chunk of the money we earn from jobs we would have been denied two generations ago. Our foremothers basically fought for the right for us to subject ourselves to the tyranny of our own choices and spend our hard-earned dough on oppressing ourselves. It’s almost like bad joke.

Is there a way for women to take back the control we fought so hard for to begin with? I am starting to suspect that this is an ongoing struggle for each of us. Perhaps this is another key question we should be discussing during sessions like the one we had: What are some concrete actions we can take to re-empower ourselves into loving our bodies? Do these concrete actions even exist? If not, what then?

Again, being self-concious talking about my body was not something I expected. I shared with the facilitators post-discussion, that one thing I do for a living is pose for life drawing classes. This involves me going to schools and galleries, getting naked and playing statue for bunch of strangers. Because so many people tell me this is something they’d never be able to do, I’ve always viewed myself as someone who was comfortable in her own skin. So you can imagine how surprised I was to find myself feeling more naked than ever before, despite being fully-clothed.

I guess learning to love onself, is an ongoing process and not a final product. If there’s something I learned last night, it was that I should embrace the humanity that accompanies my insecurities with the same acceptance I embrace the strength that accompanies my ideologies… because you can’t change something you can’t even acknowledge.

That. And that I’m allowed to go jogging tomorrow. Because exercise releases happy chemicals that do not make me any less of a feminist, or anything like my mother. So there.

p.s.

To answer the other feedback queries, I have to say I can’t think of anything that would have made the session better except for maybe everyone arriving punctually. Because in truth, there were alot more areas that could have been discussed with more time at our disposal. Also, Robin’s idea about re-capping changed impressions is great — cos many of my initial impressions did change within the course of two hours.

Couldn’t have asked for better facilitators or fellow participants. And even though corporate buildings tend to freak me out a little, the good company made me forget where I was. Thanks muchly

Oh. And I’m curious. When bringing body image workshops to schools, what sort of visual media is going to be used?

The next step would be to figure out how to take this revelation and transform it into an authentic acceptance of self. There is certainly a lot of room to explore the topic further.

If you have any ideas on how we can develop the body image programme, feel free to brainstorm and share your ideas. For instance in retrospect, I thought it would have been interesting if we went around the room one last time and asked everyone what they now noticed about the women in the room that they didn’t at the beginning. How had their impression changed?

We also want to think about what other groups we should reach out to – in particular teenage girls as this seems to be the time when people are most affected and troubled by their body image. We have a presentation that was put together for this group but it is in need of a lot of work.