This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.
You can find the current article at its original source at http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2013/jun/21/cleavages-feminism-sexism
The article has changed 4 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.
| Version 1 | Version 2 |
|---|---|
| A 'convoy of cleavages' is not feminist activism | A 'convoy of cleavages' is not feminist activism |
| (35 minutes later) | |
| It must have been 1997 when the tit I like to call “leftie” was shown to a small audience. Dressed in the ironic stripper look so popular at the time, we found our way to a bathroom cubicle in a Brisbane alt-rock venue wherein a young man who had been congratulating upon our likeness to Courtney Love joined us to have forgettable sex. | It must have been 1997 when the tit I like to call “leftie” was shown to a small audience. Dressed in the ironic stripper look so popular at the time, we found our way to a bathroom cubicle in a Brisbane alt-rock venue wherein a young man who had been congratulating upon our likeness to Courtney Love joined us to have forgettable sex. |
| I'm not sure what happened to my bra, but I can be certain that I fell out of that cubicle half undressed. “Cover yourself up, you tart,” said my friend Eleanor. "Also, you smell of toilet cakes." Eleanor’s advice was welcome and wise; I thanked her and then the heavens for counsel that kept me properly attired. Drunk – as I was for much of the 1990s – or sober, I have always needed help with my clothes. | |
| Now, it is certainly true that wardrobe requirements for my gender tend to a little more detail than those of my brothers. However, as the moderately good novelist Virginia Woolf noted, “It is clothes that wear us and not we them.” By which, of course, she meant cover yourself up, you tart. | |
| For reasons understood only by search engines, remarks about dress by a commentator of whom I have never heard before made Australian headlines this week. Speaking on Radio National alongside two of my favourite compatriots, Bernard Keane and Eva Cox, the largely un-Googleable Grace Collier criticised Julia Gillard’s sartorial choices. “In every Australian workplace, we have certain standards of presentation and conduct,” she said, going on to suggest that it was inappropriate for the prime minister to show her cleavage. | |
| Of course, Keane and Cox went to town as they are wont to expertly do. And really, that should have been the end of it. But in an outrage economy, many leisure-feminists paused as they were buying new French cookware to get up in arms. The thing that lately passes for “feminism” in Australia prefers easy and already-defeated targets. The great folly of Destroy the Joint, for example, is that it spends much of its time critiquing media in their death throes. We all agree that talk radio hosts are a dying breed beloved only by a moribund demographic. However, Destroy the Joint’s social media administrators continue to kick a corpse. | Of course, Keane and Cox went to town as they are wont to expertly do. And really, that should have been the end of it. But in an outrage economy, many leisure-feminists paused as they were buying new French cookware to get up in arms. The thing that lately passes for “feminism” in Australia prefers easy and already-defeated targets. The great folly of Destroy the Joint, for example, is that it spends much of its time critiquing media in their death throes. We all agree that talk radio hosts are a dying breed beloved only by a moribund demographic. However, Destroy the Joint’s social media administrators continue to kick a corpse. |
| The same thing happened earlier this month, when some barely-heard sock called Howard Sattler, whose radio program rated somewhere just north of the community netball broadcast, stupidly asked Gillard about her partner’s sexuality. That the man was possibly affected by a serious neurological condition, and that he was subsequently sacked for his question, did not assuage the rage of the Thermomix-owning ladies. “This is another example of misogyny!!!” they cried as they celebrated the accelerated demise of an unwell, unprofessional man. | |
| Those events became the newest “feminist” focus of online activists. On both Twitter and Facebook, women bared their cleavage to demonstrate that prudishness was not to be tolerated, and that showing some flesh was appropriate. Bloated by boom and de-sexed by affluence, wannabe-strippers disrobed across the nation and demanded to be seen. | Those events became the newest “feminist” focus of online activists. On both Twitter and Facebook, women bared their cleavage to demonstrate that prudishness was not to be tolerated, and that showing some flesh was appropriate. Bloated by boom and de-sexed by affluence, wannabe-strippers disrobed across the nation and demanded to be seen. |
| Now, I can’t think of a time where cleavage is actually inappropriate on social media. I am an ardent user of several platforms, and I can tell you that pictures of breasts are almost as common as pictures of cats. What is less common, however, is the troubling conceit that showing your breasts has any value extrinsic to vanity. I don’t have any particular problem with bourgeois liberal women drinking one soave too many and showing some cleavage. After all, I have done it myself. But I do have an problem with narcissism masquerading as activism. | Now, I can’t think of a time where cleavage is actually inappropriate on social media. I am an ardent user of several platforms, and I can tell you that pictures of breasts are almost as common as pictures of cats. What is less common, however, is the troubling conceit that showing your breasts has any value extrinsic to vanity. I don’t have any particular problem with bourgeois liberal women drinking one soave too many and showing some cleavage. After all, I have done it myself. But I do have an problem with narcissism masquerading as activism. |
| Look, if you want to get the girls out and find a theoretical rationale for it, there are many genuinely awful burlesque companies who will be glad to have you and your parts. If, however, you genuinely wish to advance meaningful debate in the months leading toward an election that will determine the fate of many women who cannot afford fancy kitchen appliances, let alone child care, then maybe you should remain silent unless you’re going to talk about something sensible. | Look, if you want to get the girls out and find a theoretical rationale for it, there are many genuinely awful burlesque companies who will be glad to have you and your parts. If, however, you genuinely wish to advance meaningful debate in the months leading toward an election that will determine the fate of many women who cannot afford fancy kitchen appliances, let alone child care, then maybe you should remain silent unless you’re going to talk about something sensible. |
| I have written broadly about our nation’s fixation on gesture and its growing unconcern for reality – our fascination with the purely symbolic comes at the expense of any interest in material facts. This armada of tits is the latest in a series of clumsy, embarrassing gags that diminish real discussion. And no, I am not being a party-pooper, you insufferable mid-life strippers. I am merely reminding you that Joe Hockey will be your next treasurer. | |
| So button yourselves up. You do not have the luxury of baring your breasts in this historical moment. All our energy, and all of our attention, must be headed toward 14 September. |