Instagram Banned My Side Boob

Exploring the sexist censorship of the female form

I’ve been writing about body hair a lot. I can’t seem to help myself. I didn’t realize how much anger was inside me after all the years of having partners who made me feel ashamed of this function of my body.

I decided to do something outside my comfort zone — post a photo of my goddamn adorable stubbly armpits on Instagram.

In the photo, I’m topless, facing away from the camera, my arm on my hip so you can see my fuzz. Sure, there’s some side boob, but I cropped out enough so there’s no nipple showing (god forbid).

The photo was immediately removed by Instagram. I was annoyed so I responded with a completely logical action: I posted it again, expecting a different result.

Immediately, I received another warning about nudity and sexual content, saying that if I posted it again, my account would be deleted.

I was incensed.

This picture is not depicting sexual activity. And what’s an arm and a little side boob? Is that nudity? Is that obscene? I’m 43 years old, for god’s sake. If someone finds my middle aged boobs to be arousing, that’s wonderful, but they’re still just boobs — not sexual objects, not pornographic material, and not, by a long shot, indecent and corrupting.

I admit, this came on the heels of another upsetting social media issue. My sister, who just stopped breastfeeding her sixth baby and wanted to sell her breast pump on Facebook Marketplace had to rewrite the listing multiple times before it was approved. Why? Because apparently, you are not allowed to use the word “breast” in Marketplace listings.

She had to call the listing “Pump.” Maybe it’s for your spa. Maybe it’s for your breast. Curious shopper, it’s up to you to find out. But when you do, keep it on the DL. We don’t want to corrupt anyone with these lumps of flesh on our chest whose name we daren’t utter.

Yes, it’s true that breasts are beautiful creations and they can be incredibly sexy. If I didn’t really, really crave a nice penis in the bedroom, I’d have happily shared intimacy with another woman by now, just because I think breasts are so incredibly beautiful.

But I also insist that breasts are just another body part and shouldn’t be considered any more sexual than a man’s chest. We are all mammals. We all have nipples and breast tissue. Only a chromosome and surge of hormones differentiates the ways our chests look and function.

Do you think I don’t get lady wood from seeing Hugh Jackman shirtless? That hairy chest sends me into all kinds of sexual paroxysms. But is his shirtless form considered sexual or indecent? No. Is it banned from social media or other public sites? No. (Thank god.)

So why is my side boob banned? Why can’t I flash a nipple if I want to?

When #FreeTheNipple first started trending, I was thrilled. Even back then, I was sick of the double standard.

I excitedly told my partner at the time about the women who were posting topless photos of themselves in an effort to fight back against this needless and sexist censorship of the female form.

He was horrified. “Breasts are indecent,” he said. “They are for sex, and anyone who shows them in public should be treated as harshly as a guy who flashes his dick to strangers on the subway.”

I was dumbfounded by his response. Indecent? For sex? Had he forgotten that the actual function of the breast is to produce milk for offspring?

But of course he would feel this way. So many people do, thanks to the way our culture has hyper-sexualized the breasts. His response was just a reinforcement to me of something I already knew: that women’s bodies were still too often seen through the lens of how they served and pleased a man.

I was so angry after Instagram threatened to close my account that I dug through my closet and pulled out a shirt I almost never wear — a white, slightly baggy blouse. I love that shirt, but I don’t often wear it because the fabric is so thin, it’s almost see-through. That’s not generally a problem — if people see my nude-colored cotton bra, so what?

The problem is, my internal temperature tends to run cold, and as such, my nipples are almost always hard enough to cut glass. In that shirt, even when securely tucked into a bra, they make quite a statement.

Nevertheless, I put on the shirt and went to the grocery store, where the air conditioning was churning away. I was shivering, totally aware that my nipples were almost sticking out beyond my toes, but dammit, I held my shoulders back and let them lead the way.

I’m so tired of having my body policed. I’m so tired of people telling me I’m sexual and obscene over here but not sexual or obscene enough over there.

And I’m really, really tired of people making such a damn big deal about breasts. They’re literally flesh socks filled with pockets of fat. Yes, let’s have fun sexualizing them in the bedroom, but they don’t need to be sexualized anywhere else.

Can we stop with the criticisms of women who breastfeed in public? Can we let go of this double standard around the female nipple?

And can I please flash some side boob on social media, for god’s sake?

Here’s a news flash: My breasts are not sexual objects or props. They’re not porn. They’re not indecent or obscene.

They are simply part of my body.

Sometimes, they are a part of my sexual perception and experience. Sometimes, they are a place of comfort and refuge for a loved one’s weary head. Sometimes, they are a bouncy expression of joy when I dance around the room. And if I had had a successful pregnancy, they would have been the source of food for my child.

Is this objectionable, Instagram?

I don’t know what to do from here. My inner rebel is planning to take some wet t-shirt selfies. I suspect those would be considered overtly sexual in comparison to the tame nude photograph I tried to post, but hey, the girls will be all covered, just like Instagram demands.

And then I’m going to take a picture of my nipples every time I get the chance and grow a collection of images featuring my little headlights until I can figure out how to use them to stir up some trouble.

Until then, I’ll keep proudly wearing my see-through white shirt and maybe one day, I’ll even forgo the bra…

© Yael Wolfe 2019