Am I a Bad Feminist if I Don’t Want to #FreeTheNipple?

Go ahead and free those golden orbs, ladies. But please don’t call it feminism.

When I was in my early 20s, I spent a few months in Australia, mostly on beaches, where I was often topless.

I was young. My hair was bleached blonde by the Australian sun, and my skin was toasted golden. My body reflected my intense regime of rigorous exercise and a Spartan diet.

I looked good, and I knew it.

And you can bet I wanted everyone else to know it too.

Florence Pugh, the 26-year-old star of films such as Little Women and Midsommar, also looked good when she recently wore a hot pink, sheer-bodiced Valentino gown to a fashion show… with no bra.

When she, the dress, and her nipples made headlines and inspired much Internet buzz (as she admittedly knew they would), she clapped back with a statement about misogyny, body shaming, and abuse towards women, and asked the world, “Why are you so scared of breasts?”

For the record, I’m not scared of breasts — not Florence Pugh’s breasts or anyone else’s. On the contrary, I think breasts are lovely, and that their biological function of feeding babies is downright miraculous.

Breasts are great. I’m all for them. I just don’t understand what baring them in public has to do with feminism.

(And also for the record, I’m in full support of breastfeeding in public, which is an entirely separate issue. And I like what Alyssa Milano has to say about its distinction from #FreeTheNipple here.)

The #FreeTheNipple movement was spearheaded by film director Lina Esco in 2012, and has been rearing its head in the culture at regular intervals ever since.

Notable examples include Miley Cyrus’ topless selfie being removed from Instagram, and Scout Willis posting photos of herself shopping — topless — on the streets of New York City.

In a short op-ed for Time in September of 2015, Ensco says that she began the movement to normalize the nipple and to give women “choice.”

To which I say, “Hmm.”

Don’t get me wrong. I am all for choice for women. Reproductive choice (ahem), the choice to stay at home to raise children or to work, the choice to take your partner’s name in marriage or not (I didn’t!), the choice to wear pants or a skirt, just to name a few.

But the choice to not wear clothes in public? To desexualize the female breast and make it mundane? To devalue this special, beautiful, spectacularly functional part of the female body?

This is what we’re fighting for?

Listen, I’d like to wear my pajamas to the grocery store and vet clinic when I pick my kids up from school every day. My pajamas are super cute. I want the world to see them, and as far as I know, I have every legal right and the choice to wear them wherever I want.

It doesn’t mean I should. Or that I’m helping the world in any way by insisting on and exercising my right to do so.

After wearing the revealing Valentino, Pugh, unfortunately, became the target of vulgar comments on the Internet, mostly from men, about her body. This isn’t okay, although sadly, I think it was inevitable.

Do I want to see a world where people don’t feel free to make unkind, rude, and abusive comments about women’s bodies? You bet I do.

But is the #FreeTheNipple movement really the way to make that happen?

I mean, is there a way to make that happen? I don’t know. But if there is, I wonder if it might not start with channeling our feminist energies towards women’s issues of much graver concern.

What about those reproductive rights (double ahem)?

What about gender violence? Equal pay for equal work?

What about the health and education of girls and women in developing or war-torn countries? According to UNICEF, since the Taliban recaptured Afghanistan in August of 2021, 4.2 million children are out of school and 60% of those children are girls.

These issues, of course, are just the tip of a very deep iceberg. And I believe that they are best addressed with our shirts on.

But, gosh, popping off my bikini top on those beautiful Australian beaches sure was fun. It was liberating and just a little naughty. That new sensation of sun and salt water on all that bare skin? What a sensual delight.

I also think that Florence Pugh’s dress was fun and a sensual delight. I’m guessing she felt a little naughty wearing it. I’m never displeased to see a young woman with courage, body confidence, and a rebellious streak.

I’m also never really displeased or offended, or these days even shocked, to see bare breasts in public. I just don’t think it has a single thing to do with feminism.

Honestly, I’m not sure if Florence Pugh does either.

“We all knew what we were doing,” she says of her choice to wear the revealing gown.

By “we,” does she means herself and…her breasts? I’m not quite clear on that.

But I think I’m clear on why she wore that dress.

You see, it wasn’t all that long ago that I was a pert and a nymphic 20-something cavorting on those topless beaches.

Did I know what I was doing? You bet I did. And it sure wasn’t a forward movement for feminism.

Nope, not even a little bit.