My Breasts Hurt

Actually they don't (today), but that's another story.

Yesterday, the New York Times ran a story about bras for small-breasted women and the ladies who wear them. It was fluff, in the same way that a restaurant review is fluff; not dealing with the most pressing issues of the day, not interesting to everybody, but most definitely the sort of thing that some readers might enjoy and find useful.

Certainly, the article had flaws. For one, it suggested that taking pride in one's small breasts is a symptom of fat people and OMFG ARE PEOPLE FAT. :sigh: Still, the article made some good, if fluffy points. But, because this was a story on women's bodies (and :gasp: one of the supposedly womanlier parts of many women's bodies) there was an immediate backlash.

To hell with that.

The Times article alluded to the marginalization of small-breasted women's bodies. Permit me to verify that this exists.

You know how in puberty pretty much all girls suffer teasing about their breasts? (You should have seen mine back in high school. Ugh.) That's pretty much how the grown-up world works. It's really the same world, if you think about it.

Flat-chested women supposedly aren't quite grown up. We're not that sexy, or certainly not as sexy as we'd be if we had bigger breasts. (Breasts that we could buy, btw, provided we were willing to put up with the blowback that plastic surgery gets you in some circles.)

Of course, we could get padded bras. Which, incidentally, are everywhere. And always improved. Revolutionary, even. Sometimes shit explodes. Breasts that appear to be of a culturally accepted size and shape are a big deal.

The Times piece actually mentions that some of us don't necessarily want padded bras. Or don't want to wear training bras designed for teens. It doesn't mention this, but those of us who are tall can't usually wear bras designed on the assumption that we're comparably short teens whose 36A breasts are growing to be of an appropriate size. The article mentions the rise of boutiques where one can get grown-up bras that fit. I noted the information on the chance that someday I have money to invest in nice bras.

Small-breasted women are real people with real experiences. I, for one, noticed that many people didn't really take my womanhood seriously until I was a full A-cup. That was kinda a big deal, because the alternative was pretty shitty. Did I mention this was a real experience in the real world?

But our experiences aren't enough to mollify folks who want to tell us what our lives, bodies, and experiences should be.

Like, I understand that bras are the devil and it can be hell on your back to have large breasts and I'm so lucky and why the hell would I ever wear a bra whatthehelliswrongwithme, but, uh.... Sometimes I don't like to show off my nipples at work. It can still be uncomfortable walking around with unsupported breasts, even smaller ones. Also, who the fuck is anyone to judge my choice in clothing, and why the fuck do they think I have to give an explanation of my attire?

I also understand that there are women with other body issues, you know, because I have empathy. Like, I know that fat hatred exists. I've been to the doctor with my partner. And the grocery store. And the sidewalk. Oh, and also we've shopped for bras together. Trying ain't the half of it. Oh! Have any of you seen the selection of sports bras for larger-breasted women? Telling of society, no?

Speaking of body issues and marginalization, do you want to talk about my penis? Me neither.

And why yes, at some point I would like to talk about other issues... about the economy, about health insurance, about public education, about crime. These are incredibly important issues that affect my household more than my breasts do. However, for these ten minutes we're talking about my breasts, m'kay? I promise the Arbitrators of Very Important Things that we can spend the next fifteen minutes discussing what's for lunch before y'all move on to puzzling out the one and only one true important issue in society.

Nobody who's oppressed can truly win the Oppression Olympics, because, well, it's oppressive. Not listening to the voices of small-breasted women and generally dismissing our experiences of marginalization is oppression. It's like we get a higher (or lower) score simply by virtue of participation in that cruel pseudo-sport with Calvinballesque rules and a constantly moving target.

Besides, I own my body. And frankly, I don't think that goes far enough. Mind-body dichotomy be damned, I am my body. My body is how I experience this world. So it's not really appropriate that my body, or anyone's body be treated as communal property to be judged against contrived standards. Yet this is precisely what society does to many bodies (women's bodies being one of many overlapping examples) all the time. Nuts to that.