The “essence” of the female body: Part 1

In the next couple of posts, I want to explore what the “true” essence of a female body is, and analyze the argument underpinnings of such ideas.

In many ways, it appears that society wants women to look a certain way, and most often, thin.  If a woman is not thin, then she doesn’t quite measure up.  Societal norms tell us that we should diet if we’re overweight. 

When flipping through the channels recently, I came across a new reality show Thintervention with Jackie Warner.  The individuals on the show, mostly female, but a few males, want to lose anywhere from 30-60 pounds.  It seems that the presumption is that any “excess” weight should be eliminated, and that people should diet and exercise to achieve that. 

I’m not against exercise or eating healthy (I do both of those myself).  However, my concern is when the need to diet and exercise becomes compulsory, that individuals feel that they have to diet in order to achieve a specific body ideal.  Where does this body ideal come from?  Is the ideal female body really a skinny model?  Most women do not fit into a size 0 or 2, but why do we feel such pressures to conform to the ideal?  I think that in large part it centers on the presumption that the ideal essence of woman is to be skinny/slim, even when this flies in the face of the reality of the situation.  Thus, reality (the average woman being a size 14) is turned upside down and apparent reality (being size 0 or 2) becomes the norm. 

Thus, shows like Thintervention, which imply that there is a weight crisis which needs professional intervention (a theme to be explored later), utilize the apparent reality and the “true” essence of the female body in order to market themselves to individuals outside the norm. 

My next post will focus on the essence of a specific body, that of a Hooters waitress, and I will introduce an ongoing court case that I will be analyzing more in depth in the weeks to come.

The body bubble: When boundaries burst

No, this post isn’t about bubble people.  Rather, it’s about the lines or boundaries between where one person’s body begins and ends in relationship to society.   Questions I’ve been thinking about this week include: When is it appropriate to comment on someone’s body (or, it ever appropriate)? How do we use images of bodies in order to justify specific actions?  Where does my individual, private body begin/end in relationship to my social, public body?

For example, take pregnant women.  I’ve seen (and heard of) situations where strangers feel it’s acceptable to touch a woman’s belly and/or provide her with free advice on mothering/parenting.  What is it about the pregnant body that somehow disrupts, or pops, the social bubble?  Imagine if that same thing happened to a non-pregnant woman:  a stranger randomly touching her belly, or offering her advice on how to live her life.  In that situation, it definitely goes beyond socially acceptable norms concerning body-space (a.k.a. one’s personal bubble) as well as stranger interaction.  Why, then, is the pregnant body different?  Do women have an invisible sign on their belly that says: “This space rented to the public; please visit any time you like”?  Or, do they have an invisible sign above their head that reads, “Suggestion box: please comment on my parenting style”?  Although these invisible signs questions are meant to be over-the-top and ridiculous, it points to a larger question:  When does one’s body cease to be a personal space but a public one? 

I’ve tried to think of a parallel situation for men, where strangers may touch male bodies.  I think a possible situation involves a muscular man, where people touch his large biceps or flat abs.  However, I don’t think it’s quite the same as with pregnant women.  With muscular men, it’s conceivable that strangers will ask for permission before touching his muscles (and the muscled men may be flattered).  With pregnant women, some strangers may ask for permission to touch her belly, but it seems that more often than not, strangers feel it’s simply ok to do it without asking (as if they already had an unwritten permission from a higher authority, back to the invisible sign theory).

I recognize that body/space issues exist within cultural contexts; however, I’m troubled by the fact it seems women’s bodies can move from private to public without their permission.  If women's bodies cease to be personal/private, but exist as social/public, then what happens with individual agency, authority, and a sense of an embodied self?  These questions will serve as a good jumping off point for the weeks to come.  I will continue to think about just why some boundaries can be crossed whereas others cannot. 

Can Bodies Argue?

I have been thinking for a long time about two elements of the body: both the physical, material body and discourse about bodies.  This line of thinking brings me to the following questions: What do bodies tell us about ourselves, others, and policy issues?  Do bodies themselves have something to say, or make an argument about particular issues?  When we talk about bodies, how does that influence particular policies?

On both levels, material bodies and discourse about bodies, these bodies do make an impact.  When people talk about bodies, what they say can make or support an argument.  Also, physical/material bodies are powerful arguments, just as silence makes a statement as well (even though nothing is said, what is not said matters).

For example, in discourse about bodies, how people talk about other’s bodies supports and/or justifies a claim.  In the case of rape trials, sometimes people attempt to make a defense that the woman was asking for it based on her clothing/appearance [usually in these situations it involves women, but can also be extended to men].  Although this line of reasoning has multiple problems, certainly the most being its unethical position, they are saying that the body itself made a particular argument or claim.  

Another example involves George W. Bush’s discussions of Iraqi women and children’s bodies as a justification for war.  Some of his graphic descriptions include examples of instances of “electric shock, burning with hot irons, dripping acid on the skin, mutilation with electric drills, cutting out tongues, and rape” as occurring to Iraqi people, and their bodies.”  Such descriptions of Iraqi bodies made the argument that the United States should go to war to prevent these occurrences. 

Thus, when we talk about bodies, those descriptions make an argument that we should do, or not do, something; they justify a particular course of action.

The material/physical body also can justify a particular course of action.  Julia Butterfly Hill lived in a 1,000 year old redwood tree to prevent it from being cut down to make lumber.  Her physical body served as a form of social protest, to demonstrate the connectedness between humans and our environment and, of course, to argue for saving the tree by putting herself in harm’s way.

Ultimately, bodies matter.  How we talk about bodies and the physical body itself both exist as important fields of study, and I look forward to continuing to reflect on these issues.