Finally broke down and began the search for a new wetsuit last week. I didn’t want to spend my hard-earned dollars on the Usual Suspects (Rip, O’, Quik or Bill) so I dug a bit deeper. My list was short given that I didn’t want a suit made in China and I wanted to support a company whose business policies and practices I aligned with.
I ended up at Patagonia in Cardiff and tried on a women’s long-sleeved spring suit. It was comfy and snug, as a new wetsuit ought to be, though a bit short in the legs. I thought maybe this had more to do with my being accustomed to wearing men’s suits. Women’s suits made by the Usual Suspects tend not to fit my surfer’s shoulders and there is very little I despise more than not being able to move my arms when paddling. Men’s XS suits tend to fit better than a larger women’s suit, which leave me having to choose between swimming in the legs or suffocating at the throat. I decided to give the suit a try…
My first session with the suit was comical. It seems that with the movement of paddling, straddling the board, spinning around to catch a wave… any movement at all, really, the material of the suit shifted higher. The legs were not long enough to catch on my legs, as they would if they were even an inch and a half longer. Maria and my good friend Jamie were laughing as I struggled to pull the hiked up suit from my crotch. Both had eyeballed the suit as I changed into it, wondering what I was doing in such a short-legged suit. My mom, Jeannette Prince, was also surfing that day and told me that she had this problem with the same suit but that I would “get used to it.”
Over the course of the next few days, I surfed in the suit consistently. The suit stretched a bit and I found that if I knee paddled, the crotch-effect was less severe. After an especially long session, I was able to see just how short the suit was. I was applying Aloe to a pink lemonade-shade of sunburn when I turned my backside to the mirror to make sure I was covering the topmost portions of the sunburn. As I twisted my neck to glance over my shoulder, I saw that the line of the burn indicated that this was the shortest, non-bathing suit, non-undergarment item I have ever owned or worn surfing. I whistled… this was going to be a harsh couple of days as the burn faded to tan.
Earlier that day, I had seen Chris Grant of JettyGirl.com out in the water and the suit became the butt of a good-natured joke that ultimately lead to a conversation that Maria further elaborated today. Namely, how does someone who cares about the minimalization and sexual objectification of women by Big Surfing end up in a suit this short? And this, more than the uncomfortable design flaw Patagonia needs to address (separate letter; different audience), is the issue that begs further explanation.
How can you tell the difference between an empowered woman who is comfortable with her body, her sexuality, who chooses to wear a bikini and a woman who wears a bikini to further her career, social standing, or gain favors by showing skin? The answer? You can’t, until you get to know the individual.
In the early years of the second-wave of feminism, when women began working on creating a place for themselves in society and social institutions, equal to men in pay, position and responsibilities, there was some emphasis on down-playing the sexuality and sensuality of women. Gloria Steinem, who was dubbed by one Washington Post columnist as “The miniskirted pinup girl of the intelligentsia,” was sometimes dismissed by the more radical faction of the women’s liberation movement who felt that any “feminine” appearance was detrimental to the movement.
“Some women’s groups tried to call a halt to unfair, superficial standards by rejecting the entire tool kit of the beauty industry. They banished makeup, wore formless clothes such as overalls and men’s shirts. They not only tossed out their uncomfortable high heels but rejected feminine footwear altogether, showing up for interviews in work boots. …avoiding any [hair]style that required an effort beyond washing and combing.”
(When Everything Changed, Gail Collins p. 202)
This image of feminists as unkempt, asexual, dude-haters persists still, though it is fading. One of my best friends, a spry, curly haired young lady who loves her Coach purses and MAC beauty supplies, works as a teacher and is married to a top-level Major in the Marines, is one of the most ardent and intelligent feminists I know. A favorite shirt she loves to wear broadcasts the message that indeed, “This is what a feminist looks like.” I’ve even met men who are feminists.
This is a new era, a new wave of feminism, wherein women embrace and define their own femininity, sensuality and sexuality rather than denying or hiding these aspects or allowing another to exert control. By doing so, we acknowledge that we can be both sexy and smart, influential and enticing and that being an empowered woman need not come packaged any one way.
The key point here is the distinction between self-expression and objectification. There is a distinction between a woman’s choice of self-expression and some brand/photographer/magazine/organization/etc. explicitly or implicitly demanding sexuality/skin to sell goods/lifestyles. This woman is an object, like a mannequin, dressed to present what is being sold… whether that is the manufactured façade of a sport, a sweater or a surfboard (I am personally most disturbed at how often a woman is beheaded in advertisements… all of her most important faculties removed… brain, eyes, ears and mouth). The hinge here is that objectification silences one’s personal voice. If the objectified/minimalized model/ambassador/etc. does “speak,” she broadcasts a childlike fun/innocence, a “come hither” ambience, or some other superficial air of no consequence.
Focusing on what a woman does or does not wear, how much or how little she invests in her appearance, etc. misses the point. What is much needed is not a change of wardrobe but strong faculties of communication, self-knowledge and self-efficacy… for women to know and express their likes and dislikes, know and express their needs and desires and to participate in the transformation of the world around them… to influence, to speak and to be heard. Stephanie Gilmore picked up on this as quoted in the recent issue of Surfer Magazine:
“I always think that these marketing guys at these big surf brands know what they’re doing, but maybe they don’t. Maybe that’s why women’s surfing hasn’t taken off really, because guys don’t know what young girls want.”
I am going to keep wearing my suit. I’ll provide feedback to Patagonia, which I hope will help with future designs, and I’ll have this discussion with everyone who has some sort of strong reaction to me wearing a suit that exposes a lot of leg and a little bit o’ booty. For me, this is an act of embracing my own femininity out in the water, as a surfer. It’s a small rebellion of my very own, against all those things in me that never wanted to “surf like a girl,” and who struggled to prove myself in a man’s world by competing for waves and respect with guys in the line-up.
"long sleeve daisy dukes" by Cori Schumacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at corischumacher.com.
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