A Heartfelt Cry Against Slut-Shaming
A good TikTok or Instagram scroll can prove soothing as a distraction from the nauseous snarl of reality: beautiful homes, refrigerator restocks, all the pep talks. But this pleasure comes mixed with anxiety about what we might encounter as we surrender to the algorithm. With so much fraught feeling around social media, it’s hard not to give in to shame, or by extension, shaming. But one feminist writer is asking us to put aside our preconceptions when it comes to the next generation’s use of “socials,” and she has marshalled compelling arguments in favor of swallowing our judgment.
In 1999, Leora Tanenbaum published Slut: Growing Up Female with a Bad Reputation. The phrase “slut-bashing,” which later became “slut-shaming,” was born within its pages, now considered a foundational feminist text. When the Internet with which young women inevitably had to reckon with, Tanenbaum responded with I Am Not A Slut: Slut- Shaming in the Age of the Internet, in 2015. Her latest, Sexy Selfie Nation: Standing Up for Yourself in Today’s Toxic, Sexist Culture (Rowman & Littlefield), arrives in bookstores in May. Its challenge to the reader is thus: try to understand the trap young women and non-binary folks find themselves in when it comes to interacting with the morass of social media, and stop judging the ways they might cope with being sexualized without their consent.
In other words: Clips, reels, and ‘grams that highlight bikini selfies, or flaunt a crop top worn on the first day of school, all contain more complicated gender politics than it may seem on the surface.
Tanenbaum writes that the concern she hears most from parents about how their children dress, is an old but consistent one: their childrens’ revealing clothing and provocative Instagram photos are “inviting” sexual harassment and assault. This fear exists in spite of the fact that we know that what someone is wearing actually has nothing to do with whether or not their consent might be violated: Tanenbaum cites a survey of married Orthodox Jewish women revealing that 26 of them percent reported sexual assault, in spite of adhereing to religious laws dictating the wearing of modest clothing. “What parents should be concerned about is making their daughters feel psychologically safe—yet they are doing the opposite when they aggressively regulate their daughters’ appearance,” she writes.
This regulation is also seen in school dress codes, which police (overwhelmingly Black) girls’ bodies. The codes lean heavily on the idea that bra straps and midriffs distract boys from paying attention in class, an accusation that proves false, according to the young men Tanenbaum interviewed. “Look, people notice if you show up dressed like a Hooters waitress,” Danny tells Tanenbaum. “But just because they notice doesn’t mean they will be distracted…if a guy thinks a girl is hot, he will look at her in the classroom no matter what she’s wearing.”
Parents, classmates, school administrators, strangers on the Internet—all these forces unify to create a universe in which women and girls are reduced to their physical bodies, regardless of their own intentions or agency. This is a phenomenon Tanenbaum calls “nonconsensual sexualization.” If it’s inescapable, say Tanenbaum’s young interviewees, “Why shouldn’t I reap some rewards in this messed-up system and look hot, if that’s my choice?”
Of course, the author writes, there are social penalties, and a larger social contest. Regardless of the purity of ones motivation, posting hot pictures online can and often does backfire, one example she cites being “context collapse,” or what happens when a post is targeted at a certain audience, but ends up in the hands of another audience, with negative results (a post for a friend or friend group being made public, for example). She also describes a pressure to appear that one doesn’t want attention from posts, to make sexiness look accidental and effortless. The decision to hit “post” on a photo is saturated with variables.
That doesn’t mean the “post” button should never be hit, argues Tanenbaum. Young women should be encouraged to make these decisions themselves, and to think them through, including potential consequences, in the name of growth. They should know that they are not at fault for the behavior of others, a fact that should be affirmed consistently by those around them.
Tanenbaum is a careful and thorough listener, committed to accurately rendering the voices of young women and non-binary folks when they talk to her about the intricacies of their lives, online and otherwise. It’s not always about wresting control, or getting and holding the attention of men. Sometimes sexy selfies are about finding community, affirming identity, restoring confidence, being proud of how you and your friends look and making sure everyone knows it.
Ultimately, says Tanenbaum, selfies are about the formation of identity: “The performance shapes the person and enables you to imagine yourself as someone who is fierce, feminist, and ready to face people the way you want to be seen.” The author has done us all a service, adding another must-read book for those who want to understand a new generation’s anxieties around appearance and self-image.
Chanel Dubofsky is a writer based in Brooklyn, NY.
