By Grace Eberts, EIC
Artwork by Frederic Forest https://fredericforest.com/originals/woman-sitting-etude-586/
There is nothing I love more than fall fashion. Pulling out my sweaters and boots means wearing some of my favorite outfits. I always look forward to putting on a cozy sweater in the morning instead of a tank top. I feel more comfortable, less self-conscious, and I never have to worry about a sweater fitting me.
I grew up as a ballet dancer, so I had a negative body image imprinted onto me by my teachers and role models at a young age. When I was seven, I remember asking my ballet teacher if I could wear a t-shirt over my leotard and she told me that she needed to be able to see “if my stomach was poking out.” Plus, she added, it was summertime and the air was thick and humid, so a t-shirt would probably stick tightly to me anyway. But I also remember that I didn’t care–even a tight t-shirt brought me some sense of coverage. I couldn’t get away with wearing t-shirts in the summer, but I always looked forward to the winter because, as uncomfortable as dancing in a cold studio was, it usually warranted a few pieces of warm-up clothing. I always felt more confident when I could wear a big t-shirt and sweatpants over my ballet uniform.
Given my dance training, I was usually excited when it came time to prepare for our mandatory chorus performances in middle school. When we rehearsed for our concerts, we wore our gym uniforms so we didn’t have to dance in our school clothes. Everyone was swimming in the “one size fits all,” school-branded, navy-blue basketball shorts and gray t-shirts. One day, I was dancing in front of a friend when I heard her laughing. When I asked what the joke was, she told me that she was just laughing at my “jiggly” thighs. After that, I didn’t enjoy our dance rehearsals again until the winter time. When it began to get cold, my school allowed us to wear leggings under our gym uniforms. I only felt comfortable wearing my gym uniform if I could also wear leggings to contain my “jiggles.”
Each new year brings new dynamics with my body, though I am feeling the same sense of anticipation as fall and winter are approaching this year. As a young adult, the judgments of my peers feel less daunting now. It is nice to know that the person one mat over in my yoga class probably won’t say anything about my thighs and that my philosophy professor certainly has nothing to say about my stomach poking out. Time has allowed me to reflect on these experiences; I often think about the first time that someone else talked about my body in a way I didn’t understand (e.g. my jiggly thighs or pouchy stomach).
Now, I realize that all of these interactions I had growing up were just the stepping stones to dealing with the same challenges I face as an adult. As the leaves are turning this year, I am reminded that the challenge is not to separate my body image from these instantaneous judgments and moments of gossip, but is instead an ever-present, nonconsensual experience of being judged. In the past year, the men who have touched themselves sexually next to me on the street, chased me into convenience stores, and called me an “ugly bitch” have been unfortunate reminders of this reality. When the weather changes, and my wardrobe shifts, I start to feel safer walking home at night. The comfort of my loose winter clothes feels even stronger than it did when I was younger. They still bring me a sense of safety, but now they also protect me from fears that extend beyond the dance studio or the music classroom.
The hatred I felt for my body as a child was crushing, but I long for the times when that hatred was contained within the walls of my dance studio or my music classroom. I am not sure when this transition happened, but these comments and reactions to my body have suddenly become the norm on every morning walk, late night run, and metro ride that I take around D.C. My fall clothes mean something more to me now. They are not just my comfort when I feel down, they are literally my protection from the world. Like many of my peers, I have spent over 20 years trying to figure out what was wrong with me and my body, but it has taken me all this time to realize that I have never been worthy of the judgments that others imposed on me.
I have, however, been far too accepting and inviting of them, and that is why I have to rely on my comfort clothes. I wish that, when I was seven, someone had told me that this was the experience of being a woman–but no one ever did. Instead, as we tend to let women do, I scrambled to prove them wrong by wearing my loose clothes, having coffee and granola bar breakfasts, and maintaining a “totally normal” obsession with my step count.
I am far too cynical to suggest that we simply uproot ourselves and radically re-imagine our bodies without these past experiences. I don’t believe in that. However, I do believe that my reflection of these experiences is part of the recognition that I (and we) have been training for a long time. The arrival of fall doesn’t mean I need to feel ashamed of bringing out my safety clothing. Rather, it can be a celebration of the fact that I get to feel safe. My leggings will always remind me of my gym shorts, but thank god I didn’t have to keep wearing those gym shorts. Finding solace in the chaos of having a female body is a beautiful thing. It doesn’t mean that you are giving into the patriarchy by choosing to protect yourself. As much as you have the right to wear what you want without feeling unsafe, you also have the right to accept the reality of living in a city and in the world. As women, we have to take steps to protect ourselves from harm, but also to protect ourselves from absorbing and internalizing those fears. When I see people catcall or harass other students, I wish they knew how scary it feels, but also how detrimental it is to the development of our confidence and our body image.
Like I said, it’s a new year with new dynamics. I am disappointed to say that, over my four years at GW, I have slowly felt less and less comfortable being a woman in the city. I feel helpless against the way that strangers treat me on the sidewalk and I feel helpless trying to protect my friends from these same experiences. However, I look forward to my fall clothing more than ever.
I hope that all my readers can recognize that their body is enough and they deserve to enjoy a little peace and respect this winter. I encourage you to indulge in the power that your wardrobe can bring you and I will try to do the same.
