Politics Of Cleavage: A Feminist Reading Of The Urban-Rural Divide

When Simone De Beauvoir said, “One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman” and Susan Brodo said, “Our culture both fetishizes and demonizes women's breasts”, they were simply echoing the voice of every woman on this planet. Before we can see our bodies with our naked eyes, the social norms already define their existence. In this case, I am sorry Sartre, but the essence preceded existence. Our bodies endure violation in the name of conformity, from imposed standards of appearance to dictates of acceptability. The rampant sexualisation of breasts dictates our definitions of comfort. It doesn’t wait for me to explore my comfort and my style, it imposes. 

Please, Eyes Up Here!!

For most of us, we aren’t asking for it. We aren’t enjoying your attention. My boobs are rather feeling strangled by those laced hooks. It's annoying and frustrating. So, please ‘eyes up here’!

Society though thrives off the politics of cleavage because it’s obsessed with creating lines of partition among individuals, in particular, and community, in general. But, I am particularly obsessed with society’s obsession with what lies between my boobs. 

What is it about boobs that’s so ticklish to you? Why are you still obsessed with my cleavage? And here I was thinking that we might be beyond gawking at a woman’s cleavage. But, during my sister’s wedding festivities, people were looking for something around my boobs. 

The world hasn’t yet found the treasure that’s buried in my cleavage. 

The Urban-Rural Cleavage

What is interesting, however, is how the urban-rural cleavage dictates my relationship with my cleavage. In Delhi or Bangalore, I have worn my sarees on my black push-up bra, casually walking in the metro station. I have not ever adjusted my strap or anything. People gawk yes, but my ability to ignore them is commendable. They don’t bother me. 

But, when will those eyes stop making me feel conscious? I am a hyper-independent and loud feminist woman who doesn't shy away from breaking patriarchal barriers. Yet, I tried to adjust my Haldi outfit because of those eyes that were watching. When will my body stop being surveilled?

Is it the anonymity of the urban areas that lets ignorance topple societal dictates? People still gawk as if I am holding a gun there. In metros, I can feel the eyes on me so it’s not the case of acceptance where people are okay with free women, who are enjoying themselves without the patriarchal wrinkles. No, our bodies still are the battleground for people to wage war against. 

So, what is it that I adjust my strap in my hometown as compared to my callousness in the city? Are we still a captive of the social norms, that still dictate the societal fabric and structures? It’s true that all forms of social -isms are more pronounced in their manifestation in a small town. It's the traditional urban-rural divide argument. 

Is it just that or there is more? One of the reasons is the stigmatisation and slut-shaming that a woman experiences if her cleavage is showing. “She is asking for it. Sheher ki ladki. Modern ho gayi hai”, are just some of the few things you hear. Probably I adjusted my strap because somewhere deep down my conduct defines my family’s honour and respect. Somewhere deep down, I still have to outgrow the patriarchal lines on my forehead. I still have to unlearn the internalisation, the conditioning. 

To all the women out there who have adjusted their bra straps, and live a dual life where in one world they are free while remaining imprisoned in the other, I see you. I hear you. You aren’t any less of a feminist. You are bold. 

The politics surrounding women's bodies have been at the heart of radical feminists who have chanted for freeing women from the captivity of body fascism. From Kate Millet in Sexual Politics to Simone De Beauvoir, you will find their words echoing the problematic sexualization of women's bodies and society’s obsession with dictating terms on how we need to feel about our bodies. They want their women to flaunt it. 

Eyes are the subtle manipulative tool used by the patriarchy to co-opt you into their value systems. It's an aggressive ideological hegemony that will ensure your cooperation without resistance. It knows the art of making you believe that it's what you want. 

When I adjusted the strap of my blouse, I said, “I am tired, I will choose my battles, and this isn’t the one worth fighting for.” How many times have you told this to yourself over the small, subtle ways of patriarchy that play with your exhaustion to buy your acceptance? What battle are we waiting for? What war needs to be waged to dismantle and uproot the patriarchy? When do women need to adjust their bra straps? 

I say, there is never a right moment. There is never ‘the battle’ or ‘the fight’, but the fight in front of you. I could say a million things but you aren’t in my TED talk and I hardly am a motivational person. I have succumbed to the patriarchy, very much like you but sisterhoods for just that, right? To give a hand, and rise in unison. 

Tweaking what Marx said, “Women of the world unite, you have nothing to lose but your bras.” 

Flaunt it. Free it. F*ck it.

Views expressed by the author are their own