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Abayance
This column in the LA Times details some of the experiences one of their reporters had while covering stories in Saudi Arabia. I've read a couple of books by women with similar stories to tell, but this is a nicely written piece.
She writes:
To me, the abaya implied that a woman's body is a distraction and an interruption, a thing that must be hidden from view lest it haul the society into vice and disarray. The simple act of wearing the robe implanted that self-consciousness by osmosis.
I'm reminded of a dream that I once had. I rarely have naked-in-public anxiety dreams and the few I've had all have some kind of twist. In this one, I was visiting an ex, shortly after our breakup, to pick something up. His new girlfriend was hovering in the background as he searched for whatever-it was, and he was leering and making sly comments about my breasts. I realized at that point that I wasn't wearing a shirt. Rather than feeling embarrassed by my nudity, I felt outraged that I couldn't wear whatever I felt like wearing, or not, without him taking it as a sexual come-on. Trust me, I thought, if I were interested in sex, you'd know it.
In the US, I try to be tolerant of other women's choices. Now there's a way to be, my mother will say, when she sees someone dressed in a manner she finds outrageous. Walking through the Cambridgeside Galleria, I see women whose clothing ranges from shorts and tube tops to headscarves and robes. I value the cultural diversity on display and I respect their right to wear whatever they feel comfortable wearing.
But I do find it hard not to take the decision to cover women's bodies to a greater degree than men's bodies as an accusation. If covering your hair is a sign of modesty, then what does that say about my waist-length braid, brazenly displayed? At the same time, is tucking in my shirt a judgment of women with proudly exposed bellybuttons? And to what degree are any of us actually free in our choices?
She writes:
To me, the abaya implied that a woman's body is a distraction and an interruption, a thing that must be hidden from view lest it haul the society into vice and disarray. The simple act of wearing the robe implanted that self-consciousness by osmosis.
I'm reminded of a dream that I once had. I rarely have naked-in-public anxiety dreams and the few I've had all have some kind of twist. In this one, I was visiting an ex, shortly after our breakup, to pick something up. His new girlfriend was hovering in the background as he searched for whatever-it was, and he was leering and making sly comments about my breasts. I realized at that point that I wasn't wearing a shirt. Rather than feeling embarrassed by my nudity, I felt outraged that I couldn't wear whatever I felt like wearing, or not, without him taking it as a sexual come-on. Trust me, I thought, if I were interested in sex, you'd know it.
In the US, I try to be tolerant of other women's choices. Now there's a way to be, my mother will say, when she sees someone dressed in a manner she finds outrageous. Walking through the Cambridgeside Galleria, I see women whose clothing ranges from shorts and tube tops to headscarves and robes. I value the cultural diversity on display and I respect their right to wear whatever they feel comfortable wearing.
But I do find it hard not to take the decision to cover women's bodies to a greater degree than men's bodies as an accusation. If covering your hair is a sign of modesty, then what does that say about my waist-length braid, brazenly displayed? At the same time, is tucking in my shirt a judgment of women with proudly exposed bellybuttons? And to what degree are any of us actually free in our choices?
sorry, this stuff makes me ranty
Indeed. What makes me angry about this is that societies almost always punish women for being what (most) men find attractive, without really requiring men to bloody well control themselves like the adults they ought to be. Streets not safe for women? Put them under curfew and blame them for being in the wrong place and wearing the wrong attire; after all, it's not as if we can expect men who think they're so much better than women to actually exhibit self-control, right? No one ever turns around and makes any kind of serious proposal that since the men are causing these problems, they ought to be the ones under watch and curfew so that women can walk around in safety, whereas many societies around the world think it's perfectly fine to infantilize women and curtail their activities.
One of the reasons I'm not interested in being religious is the degree to which this attitude is embedded in nearly all religions that I know of. Women are so distracting, it seems, that men must keep us under wraps, make us wear long, baggy clothing, cover our hair, make sure we don't speak out of turn or sing where men can hear. My feeling is that men being distracted by my mere existence as a woman is Not My Fucking Problem, except inasmuch as they attempt to make it my problem by restricting me instead of growing the hell up and controlling themselves.
Re: sorry, this stuff makes me ranty
But the thing is, in our society, there is at least some level at which it is the women's choice, ostensibly. And that's where my position comes a-cropper.
Re: sorry, this stuff makes me ranty