I'm not sure if the topic of pregnancy and subsequent changes in the body are at the forefront of my mind right now because my partner and I are making baby plans, or because I'm at the age where my friends are having babies, or because the topic of post-pregnancy bodies is often on my social media feeds. Because of the 24-hour social media cycle, sometimes it’s hard for me to ascertain if a movement or attitude is actually happening RIGHT NOW in this moment in time, or if it’s just history repeating itself. I didn't really give a lot of thought to how pregnancy changes a woman's body in high school. Were women talking about it then in such a transparent manner? Were books being authored on the topic?
It wasn't until I read the chapter on how pregnancy changes a woman's body in Simone de Beauvoir's seminal text
The Second Sex that I even gave a thought to not only the societal and political nuances that keep women from reaching equality, but also the biological ones. Women can create. Women can produce. I'm not going to use this space to iterate the historical debates on this topic; for me, at it's core it comes down to this: instead of child bearing holding a positive, empowering status in modern society, it has become the very thing that makes women vulnerable. Because we can create life, our bodies and our virginity is something to "protect". Our reproduction ability is exploited for power.
Rape as a weapon of war is a perfect example. Honor killings are another. Instead of reverence there is violence.
Two main things have been coming up for me in recent weeks in regard to this general topic: 1) the release of Beyoncé’s new album and with it the
onslaught of feminist conversation and 2) the online efforts to celebrate and have a truthful, positive dialogue about post-baby bodies.
I'm a huge Beyoncé fan. I think she makes amazing music and she inspires me to be f i e r c e. I like having a woman of color I can love (don't worry Britney, you still my boo, as evidenced by this blog title) and she just seems so damn
fun. So when her new album dropped unexpectedly and
the frenzied debate about her lyrics began, I was very conscience of my measured feminist response. Here's the thing. I'm a smart, critically thinking feminist. I can argue both points of the argument. What do I feel in my gut? I don't think Beyoncé’s going to single handedly change the status of women in the world, let alone the U.S., let alone her hometown of Houston. I don't think her album is a godsend for women of color. It has, however, created a dialogue that will hopefully elevate the F word to a new place in conversation for her younger* listeners.
Concurrent with the Beyoncé debate, I've been seeing more discussion about post-baby bodies. The
4th Trimester Project popped up on my Facebook feed recently, as did this article about a woman responding to people telling her that having a baby would
ruin her body. So, as a feminist and also as someone who has had body image issues her whole life, I am happy that there is a sentiment of empowerment brewing among child bearers. On the other hand, I feel really boxed in to one category: mother. As I stated before, I think the very ability to have children is what is so exploited by others who deny equality to our sex. I also fear being categorized as one thing, ever, whether that's a woman of color, a feminist, or a mother. I'm not saying that being a mother is not something that should be celebrated and something to be incredibly proud of. I just don't know if we're going to create a dynamic movement by continuing to dig our heels in the stereotypical, undervalued job of motherhood. The we seek joy blog, for example, is full of reference to the fact that because she is a mother, she is validated: "My body is only a vessel for my spirit. An incredible vessel. It is strong, well, abled, and undefeated. My body is full of life. My body is powerful. My body made me a mother. If anything, I was ruined by the world before I knew her, and she made me whole again." Honestly, this sounds so familiar to a man validating your existence, to marriage making you whole. I'm conflicted because while I too want to participate in this amazing human achievement, I feel the way we're discussing its "empowering" qualities is actually not revolutionary at all. The rhetoric is all too familiar to me. I don't want my whole existence to be validated by one person, whether that's a man or my child.
Later in the week, I came across Beyoncé’s
behind the scenes video in which she discusses the overt sexualization of her body in her visual album. She states, "I was very aware of the fact that I was showing my body... I worked crazily to get my body back. I wanted to show my body. I wanted to show that you can have a child, and you can work hard, and you can get your body back." For me, the statements she makes in this video perfectly straddle the line between the empowered feminist and the stereotypical sexualized performer. I'm inspired by her message that "you can have your child and you can still have fun and still be sexy and still have dreams and still live for yourself." On the other hand, Beyoncé is clearly preforming for the male gaze, as she readily admits in this video.
Though being a feminist can be often overwhelming, it's worth it. I'm happy to think through these questions, to ask women around me about their experience, to discuss my thoughts with my partner. I mean, isn't this just like anything in life? There are no easy answers. I remember approaching my thesis supervisor in grad school and telling her how crazy I was feeling. Digesting heaps feminist theory was making me question everything I watched, read, and saw. I half-jokingly complained, "I'll never be able to look at my world the old way again." She replied without missing a beat, "Yes, but why would you want to?"
*I cross out 'younger' here because women my age and older often say they are not a feminist. This makes me more sad than angry.
