BREAST STORIES

Does Hiding My Breasts Make Me Powerless?

Toplessness censorship starts early

Covering our breasts is one way our power is kept from us. It is an accepted censorship that reminds us we are not in charge. Once I stopped blaming my family and society for all my problems, my therapist once asked me, “What were you like when you were little? Before the world knocked you down?”

I promise. This piece is about breasts. Girls have had to censor our bodies all our lives. Our breasts have been redacted from the narrative. Only our edited ones are allowed entry.

Do you ever find yourself angry at someone but you can’t put your finger on why? The why is usually because you have encountered someone who is keeping you from your best self. Someone who wants to edit who you truly are to make them more comfortable.

What does this have to do with breasts? You ask.

Trauma is not the only event that makes us small and causes us to hide in the shadows. Censorship also minimizes our chances of growing into the mountain we are meant to become.

In my pretend world, where I am the therapist, my question to you is, “When were you first censored? When did you have to hide some part of yourself to make others comfortable?”

This morning I walked downstairs in my cute silk pjs mom gave me for my birthday. My son was laying on the couch in his shorts and no shirt, playing with the dog — totally unselfconscious. Why would he be? Middle school boys don’t need shirts.

He’s at the age when girls’ bodies are all over the place. They’re developing early, not developing, developing in a way that looks weird to them, too much nipple, lopsided breasts, stretchmarks, too much breasts, and the list is endless.

Girls at his age are worried about which bra to buy, if they should buy a bra even if they don’t need one so they don’t feel left out, whether to buy a bra in a store or order one online because they are too embarrassed to buy one in person. Maybe their boobs showed up overnight. Maybe they didn't arrive at all.

Some girls are lucky. Their mom brings them to a bra store, and supports them when they’re getting fitted by a kind older woman. Some girls are being secretive because how could they be anything but ashamed by their developing bodies or not developing bodies?

Some girls are frightened from all the new male attention from all aged men. Some girls feel instantly invisible as other girls appear to become women while they are trapped in the body of a child.

Don’t even get me started on how girls’ wardrobes now need to change once their boobs come in. What about the locker room? More places to feel shame? And swimming? God. I don’t know what’s worse. Showing up at the beach with boobs or without them.

Even at home, girls start to cover up, which is what I was thinking when my son was splayed out on the couch in shorts. No shirt. Freedom.

I made myself a cup of coffee. I realized I was too warm. If I were a man, I’d probably rip off my shirt and keep making my breakfast, but I’m a woman. I self-censor.

I needed to go change into something appropriate. I looked at my son lying there and thought, shit man, I can’t remember the last time I was laying on the couch in my underwear — even when I was alone at home. Maybe up in my bedroom, but in the living room?

Ever since I was a little girl, I‘ve covered up. It was understood after a certain age, I kept my shirt on in public, which included home.

I sometimes see little girls at the beach with their shirts off. 90% of the time I hear them speak and they are of European descent. No surprise there. I look around the beach to see if any men are ogling them. I am a self-declared guard. I feel protective. I feel afraid for them. I scan for phones being held up as cameras.

Right now, one of our city's alderman is trying to make our beaches topless. He’s not a stand-up guy and I don’t trust him. In theory, I love the idea. In practice, I don’t know if we’re there yet. We’re not used to nudity. Could we get used to nudity? I can’t say. Maybe. Hopefully.

I know I have lost something by being censored and by censoring myself, but I cannot say what. Is it the boldness that men possess? Is it the confidence that, if I were a man, I could take off my clothing whenever I wanted and the world would seamlessly continue without incident?

What am I losing by self-censorship? Is it the feeling of freedom? It is the feeling of ownership over my own life?

What if I could be topless in the park, playing catch, swimming, riding a bike, jogging, or laying on the couch? Would the world feel more like mine? Would I feel less like someone living on someone else’s couch, not even renting, but borrowing?

Does censorship stop me from feeling like a lawmaker, a leader, or a boss? Am I always an underling because I am forced to hold part of my body back?

I don’t know what the answer is. Is it flash mob nudity until people are sick of the flash mob? Is it unilaterally make all beaches nude, all over the world? You tell me. I’m censoring and that keeps me very far from knowledge and wisdom.

Want to read more about breasts or be a breast writer? Follow Breast Stories and Amy Sea to read. Leave me a note in the margin to be a writer.