Tag: appearance

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Beauty and Body

by Charmaine Teh, Change Maker

rbk-empowering-illustrations-carol-rossetti-whitney-deWe live in a society where our appearances are constantly under close scrutiny. Due to rigid societal standards, picking on someone for their weight, whether they are plus size or skinny, is common. The media portrays the perfect female body as a skinny physique with killer abs or a flat tummy with the infamous thigh gap, and for the guys, a chiseled, muscular body. This sends the message that these features would automatically make you happier, more popular and more desirable.

Beauty is constantly being redefined. Currently, the media equates skinny to beautiful; and if you aren’t skinny, you can’t possibly comply with society’s standards of beauty. Anything other than that, you are not fitting in. It has become so ingrained in us that we may find ourselves alienating or disliking a person simply because he or she is fat. And if you are not skinny, you may be called names like ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’, which are meant as insults.

I used to be a victim of ridicule because I was chubby and stood out from my group of friends like a sore thumb. I had thighs that rubbed together when I walked and a tummy that bulged out when I sat down. Someone thought I was “ugly”, and saw fit to ridicule me. I was constantly humiliated for my size and it was a huge blow to my self-esteem. Even though I weighed 51kg standing at 1.57m, I started feeling ugly and believed that I was severely overweight. I turned to starvation by surviving on only one meal per day. On days when I felt ugly and fat, I would binge on food and then exercise excessively to account for the calories I had consumed. I became increasingly self-conscious about my body. I would never leave home in clothes that could not conceal the extra bulges I was trying to hide.

Although I was never medically diagnosed with any eating disorders, it did not mean that I was not harming my body. Within a month, I became obsessed with losing weight. I ate nothing but a plain toast for breakfast and drank water to stave off my hunger for the rest of the day. I felt weak all over but I saw it as something I had to overcome in order to lose weight. To make things worse, I was participating in intensive trainings for my extracurricular activity thrice a week. I was constantly hungry after training sessions but reminded myself that the only way to be skinny was to stick to my strict regime of excessive dieting and exercising.

body image2Why did I allow my beauty to be defined by anyone else but myself? I thought that by being skinnier, I would become a happier and more beautiful person but I only felt depressed and disgusted at myself all the time. I had forgotten that I am an unique individual who deserves to feel beautiful because I am born beautiful, regardless of how I look.

What I am trying to say is that no one should feel ashamed of their body simply because they are not as skinny or muscular. Everyone should be able to feel comfortable in their own skin even if they do not conform to societal standards of beauty.

Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes, not just the body type the media portrays. Therefore, my message to anyone out there who feels insecure about their body is that the next time you feel inferior because you do not have rock-solid muscles or a thigh gap, just remember that your body is unique and that you are beautiful. Don’t let the media or society tell you otherwise.

photo (2)About the Author: Charmaine is a final year student at Ngee Ann Polytechnic pursuing Psychology Studies. Her interest in gender equality first sparked when she mentioned that her ex-netball coach was a male and someone had exclaimed ‘Guys can play netball too?’ She holds strong to the belief that no matter how big or small a change is, it is still something significant and thus we should never stop trying to advocate change in the society.

 

 

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Disarm the Body Police

By Vincent Pak, Change Maker

Transitioning to a more relevant society today will, more often than not, be met with resistance, especially one with largely conservative Asian values such as Singapore. The dos and don’ts of how a woman should behave and carry herself is contested and policed everyday; they are incessantly subjected to the critique of the public. A woman’s right to her body is her own, but sexist societal standards still deem an open-backed dress as ‘slutty’, a short skirt as shameless.

Would we do the same to men? image

The week-old Takashimaya saga where a lady was shouted at by an older woman for dressing ‘inappropriately’ was the talk of the town. The older woman was angered by the lady’s open-backed top that revealed her bra, and warned her not to dress like that in public. A simple case of exacting personal moral judgement on the youths of Singapore.

The so-called appropriateness of a woman’s choice of clothes has been debated ad nauseam, but it is never acceptable to belittle her because of that. A browse through the comments on forums and Facebook will surface a common and disheartening sentiment amongst the peeved netizens: the lady should have covered up.image_4Imagine if it was a man wearing low cut jeans that revealed his briefs. I dare presume that the incident would never have happened. The double standards we enforce on girls and women harm them. We cite reasons like shame and modesty to police their bodies, and denigrate them when they fall out of our own standards. A woman who embraces her sexuality is frowned upon, while her male counterpart is cheered on for doing the same.

We place value on a woman’s body, and deduct it accordingly when she loses her virginity, or dresses revealingly. There is an inherent problem in the way we objectify and govern their bodies like it is our own. When will we realise that body-policing and body-shaming is simply another form of violence?

Alarmingly misinformed netizens went on to slut-shame the lady for inviting trouble with her revealing outfit.

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image_1image_2The freedom of opinion is a right, but we must be aware of the sexism that coats what we read, hear and watch. The lady’s outfit may have offended the older woman, but we should seek to understand that it is not in anyone’s jurisdiction to police someone else’s body. The incident reflects the prevailing sentiment that a woman must display decency and dignity, and that is a stereotype we have to unlearn.

The next time you label a woman solely based on how she dresses, remember it is her prerogative, not yours.

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About the author: Someone once told Vincent that liking pink as a favourite colour was perfectly fine. That was enough reason for him to subscribe to feminism, because it allowed him to drink strawberry milk with confidence. Still serving his National Service, Vincent enjoys the occasional fantasy that sexism is dead in the military, but stalwartly trusts that he won’t be in denial someday. He is passionate about naps, and prefers baby blue over pink now.

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Redefining Masculinity

A recount of the struggles of navigating and defining masculinity and what it means to be a “Real Man”
by Robert Bivouac

When I was 7, I had an operation done on my left ear. I couldn’t eat at all for 12 hours before that and I told myself I would never go hungry again. Back then I didn’t know what calories were and I got a dollar a day in allowance, just enough to buy a bowl of lor mai kai for recess. I knew it made me feel full, so I think I ate that at least twice a week, and on the other days I ate things like pork bao and those chicken-flavoured Petit Brunch crackers.

When I was 8 and our class was held back for recess I cried. I remember the teacher’s name. I think it was Mr Wong, or Mr Fong, or something. I don’t actually remember the teacher’s name but I remember what he did. He went over to my desk and looked me in the eye. He had this habit of puffing his cheeks up before he spoke. I don’t remember why I remember that but I remember what he told me. He told me that I was a boy, and boys don’t cry. I was a boy, and I was going to be a man in a few years, and men don’t cry either. I tried to stop crying and after I did, and he let us go for recess, some kid came up to me and told me I didn’t need to eat recess anyway. That was the first time I realised I was fat, and it was only the first time.

G44A0821In hindsight it was mostly the boys who bullied me, and in hindsight I should’ve known it was going to get worse in my all-boys secondary school. Literally the second week of class in Sec 1 someone had already broken my stuff. I think it was a pen, but eventually someone smashed my calculator. There was this thing going on where they’d take my stuff and run around with it because they knew I was fat and slow and I couldn’t catch up and when I couldn’t catch up they called me names. I remember being called a bunch of slurs strung together the way someone who doesn’t really know what they mean would use them. I remember my classmates pinning me down or slamming me into walls. I remember I was so physically weak that hitting back became an excuse for them to hit way harder. Someone threw a chair at me once and then someone threw me into a chair, and then into a table, and then into the lockers at the back of the class. I didn’t cry.

I didn’t cry, but I was short, I was soft and I was physically weak, and to top it off I was in choir. I spoke a lot in class, did better than every single person who came at me and went up every week to challenge the principal during assembly. I didn’t know my place, apparently. In a school full of boys I was not a man, and I didn’t know my place, so that was all the excuse they needed. When the school counsellor and house head were brought in to investigate they told me what they’d heard. My “friends” thought they were training me to be a real man, as if all the insults, stealing and hitting could “fix” me; as if I needed to be “fixed”.

10458342_775298422505091_3667291884959981461_nThe thing about being “fixed” is that if you need fixing, that means you’re broken, as if not being a “real man” means you’re broken. See, if you’re a man, but not a “real man”, it seems you’re doing something wrong and if you’re doing something wrong, you need to be taught a lesson. It’s not just kids who do this. Like, turn on the television some time and you’ll see a bunch of “real men”, doing really manly things. “Real men” are strong and violent. “Real men” work hard and protect their families (which, of course, they want). “Real men” are attractive, or else “real men” are heroic, and “real men” always get the woman (and it’s always a woman), even though sometimes they really shouldn’t. It’s not all the time, but the implication is this: this is what a “real man” looks like, this is what he does and this is how he does it.

Guys, we’ve been caught. We’re told by these so-called “real men” to “be a man” when we’re hurting, when we’re sick, when there’s nothing else you can do but they want us to do it anyway. We’re told that if we don’t look or act like “real men”, we don’t deserve to be men at all. We’re something less than men if we aren’t “real men”, something they have permission to dominate, to hurt and to exploit. Frankly, guys, I’m tired.

I’m tired of this “real man” crap. All men are “real men”. We are men simply because we choose to identify as such, and nobody gets to decide otherwise. Not your parents, not your friends and certainly not anybody who thinks taking your stuff and hitting you is a good idea. We need an understanding of manhood that doesn’t exclude people who don’t fit the traditional idea of a man. We need to acknowledge that men who can’t or don’t want to find a partner, who aren’t straight, who were told they were something other than men at birth but consider themselves men, are real men. And yet, we also need to acknowledge that the men who do bad things? The men who hurt other people? The men who hurt me? Are real men too.

If we want a more inclusive understanding of manhood, we need to accept it’s for everyone, not just the good guys, and we need to do our part, as men, to fix it. Real men still do bad things, but good men stop them. and you, every single one of you boys and men in the crowd, can be a good man.

If you see a man who’s angry because he can’t get laid, tell him he’s got a problem. Tell him his problem is not that he can’t get laid, but that he believes he needs to get laid to be a real man. Tell him that he’s already a real man, and that no matter what he does, he will never deserve to get laid. Tell him that maybe he’ll find someone, or maybe he won’t, but either way it’ll be alright. He’ll still be a real man.

Youth at the event came up with different gender stereotypes they'd like to break. Warning: images in this mirror might be distorted by socially constructed notions of beauty.If you see a man going off about women, saying they’re the cause of all his problems, tell him he’s going in the wrong direction, and maybe ask him why he feels that way. Take his rage and point it at whoever told him women were to blame, because they’re lying. Tell him that’s who he needs to be mad at. He needs to be mad at everyone who told him being a man meant getting his way, meant automatically getting more respect than women, meant not being told he’s wrong. That’s who he needs to be mad at.

If you see a man harassing someone else by being sexist, homophobic or sexually aggressive, tell him to back off. Tell him he needs to back off, and that he doesn’t have the right to demand they shut up or do things just because he’s a man. Tell him being a man doesn’t make him more correct than anyone else, and that he really needs to stop. Say it firmly and with conviction and maybe the threat to report him to his teachers, or his superiors at work, or, if there really is no choice, the police.

Your voice is a vote, guys, and these are only some of the issues. All men can, and all men should, work together to make being a man something less aggressive, less exclusive, less sexist, and more proactive. We need to save our brothers from this myth that only some men are real, and other men are less real, and women are perhaps even less than that. We can play our part to help end violence by and against men, but only if we try. And we really have to try.

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Mass masculinity: Society, stereotypes and self-identity

by Lim Wei Klinsmann, Change Maker

Ask anyone what qualities are ideal in a man, and you’re likely to get the same answer repeatedly: confident, chivalrous, muscular, intelligent, rich. Every man – regardless of his personality, preferences or culture – is expected by mainstream society to meet this ideal of masculinity.

Those who do not are often deemed inferior for their inability or unwillingness to act out this very narrow set of personal characteristics.

I have always wondered if the people who mock those who do not conform to these expectations realise how oppressive their actions are.

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My personal guess is that a very small proportion of the men in society naturally fulfils society’s requirement for “a real man”. As for the rest, the gap between who they are and who society expects them to be results in, at best, internal conflict, and at worst, being ridiculed and outcast by others.

It is no doubt difficult to endure ridicule or be ostracised for not ‘fitting in’. However, it’s equally difficult to pretend to be who we are not, everyday. Everyone makes different decisions when struggling with this dilemma, and experiences different consequences.

Personally, for me, there was a lot of controversy that I had to put up with when coming to terms this ‘masculine ideal’.

When I entered secondary school, I was a skinny, soft-spoken and shy boy who found it extremely difficult to befriend anyone. This made me a target for physical and psychological bullying. People would point out how I wasn’t as well-built as other guys, how I was not supposed to be flamboyant, and I was mocked for not “being a man”.

This constant barrage of reminders that I was not good enough made me question my own identity and left me at a loss. I felt helpless and worthless because I was only accepted by a handful of people, and ostracised by the majority.

Despite this, throughout my 4 years in secondary school, I never regretted being the way I was. While the bullying I faced in school was painful, the idea of being false to myself just so I could be like everyone else felt even worse. When I saw my other friends acting in stereotypically macho ways, it seemed clear to me that the behaviour was fake.

Even today, I still get the occasional comment about how I dress and carry myself. But I have come to embrace the fact that I am different. Yes, it would have been a lot easier to just give in and be like everyone else – I could have conformed to keeping up a stereotypical appearance of being ‘a real man’. But that would not have been me.

My hope is that people will eventually realise that there is no one ideal for what one half of the world’s population should be like, and always challenge this idea. It is to our collective benefit to work towards destroying the stereotypes that society holds over everyone’s heads, and instead, celebrate the unique, infinitely interesting things that make each individual special.

With that, I pose one final question to you:

“Who are you going to be?”

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The Boys’ Club

by Visakan Veerasamy

I had a few buddies in NS whom I used to smoke with. They were decent, likeable guys, a mix of people from all over the place brought together by compulsory conscription. As our time in the army drew to a close, some of the guys decided we all ought to go clubbing together to celebrate. I’d always preferred kopitiams to clubs, but I decided to give it a shot anyway.

“Eh, make sure you bring girls ah!”

“Yeah, sure thing man!”

I said I would, but I didn’t. Why? At the time, I explained it away by telling myself that bringing friends along would “complicate” things unnecessarily.

Now that I think about it, it’s obvious that I didn’t want to introduce any of my female friends to my army buddies – at a subconscious level, I didn’t feel like I could trust the boys to treat my friends with respect. I instinctively knew that these two different worlds I inhabited couldn’t be allowed to collide. It could get ugly if they did.

When I met up with my friends on the evening of our clubbing plans, everyone was already drunk; they weren’t even in the club yet! They’d bought cheap drinks from elsewhere and had commenced getting plastered while playing drinking games on public benches. There were playing cards everywhere, soaked in beer and liquor.

My friends were with other people I didn’t recognise, who all looked really, really young. I received lots of hugs from drunken strangers who could barely stand straight. The girls – I later learned they were still in Junior College – wore heavy make-up to pass the bouncers’ scrutiny, and looked visibly uncomfortable in their heels, tugging awkwardly at their mini dresses. They coughed as they smoked.

And then something happened that I will remember forever. One of my buddies gave me a sleazy smile and wink, a gesture that told me he thought of these girls as prey – and that he expected me to participate in this ploy too. “Eh, look what I just snagged,” he seemed to be saying. “Not bad, ah?” He kept pushing drinks into the girls’ hands, with insistent encouragement for them to keep drinking, cheering and laughing.

One of them said she had a boyfriend. My buddy put his arm was around her waist. Was she uncomfortable? Probably, but I couldn’t be sure. In the haze of alcohol, smoke and peer pressure, nobody really knew what was going on.

I didn’t know how to deal with the uncomfortable situation back then – what were the rules of engagement for when your friends were plying girls who were too young to drink with alcohol, and it was clear they did not have good intentions? The girls were complaining about how Project Work was silly and pointless. I joked about how it was just preparing them for the working world, which was going to be more of the same. My buddy’s solution to their complaints? “Drink more!”

So I did. I joined in. If I drank my share, I reasoned to myself, everybody would get that much less drunk. Truthfully, though, I really just didn’t want to be sober in a difficult situation that was making me so uncomfortable.

I wish this story had a clear black-and-white ending, but it doesn’t. I got increasingly uncomfortable and ended up breaking away from the group to find myself a spot on the dance floor, where I tried to let the music drown out my thoughts. This was supposed to be a happy, fun experience. It wasn’t for me. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t for the girls I had just met. I think everybody went home separately that night, some of them crying and vomiting, all of them broke, but, thankfully, otherwise unharmed.

I’m glad for my story’s anticlimactic ending. The same scenario could have had so many alternative endings, which occur every day. Painting my friend as a single-minded lecherous rapist-in-waiting would be a gross misrepresentation. It was not, and rarely is, that clear-cut. I didn’t intervene that day because it didn’t seem like things were that bad. If the girls were truly upset or uncomfortable, surely they’d have said something, right? Just because my friend winked at me and put his arm around a girls’ waist didn’t mean anything, did it?

I know better now. Those young girls wouldn’t have said anything. And even if they had, they probably would’ve been mocked or ridiculed, told that they were being “sensitive” or “spoilsports”. If the guys had tried to take advantage of them, I can’t help but feel that things would have gone badly if nobody else said anything. If I didn’t say anything. All it takes for evil to triumph is for good to do nothing.

If I ever find myself in a situation like this again, I will do exactly what I should have done that day: taken them aside and asked them directly if they were okay. Or taken my friend aside and told him that what he was doing was not cool. I could have even found an alternate activity to disrupt the uncomfortable situation.

All of this was years ago. Since then, I’ve learnt that so much of sexual assault happens in the grey areas between yes and no, between fear and uncertainty, when no one – especially people who are indirectly implicated – really knows what to do or what’s going on.

I’ve learnt that it’s not something that happens to strangers. Some people really close to me have been raped or sexually harassed. And more importantly, I’ve since reached a painful realisation: I am a part of this problem. Because those who are raped are not strangers to me, but neither are those who rape. The rapists and sexual abusers aren’t monsters who emerge from the sewers, pathologically afflicted and lacking a conscience. They’re ordinary folk who live among us. We serve NS alongside them. We smoke cigarettes with them. And when we laugh at lines such as “kill the man, rape my girlfriend,” we make them feel more comfortable about treating others with disrespect.

So, no. It’s not cool, it’s not funny, and it’s definitely not okay.

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How Our Classrooms are Damaging the Female Body Image

by Choo Kai Lin, Change Maker

 “Math class is tough,” said Barbie. Those were the first words this iconic blonde symbol of the femininity declared back in 1992 in a segment titled Barbie Teen Talk. Clearly, gender stereotypes are not a new concept. Obviously, the world’s most famous doll agrees with the age-old cliché of females being intellectually inferior to their male counterparts. How often do we overlook the potential damage these stereotypes do, especially in an educational setting?

 In today’s society, gender bias influences each and every individual. As members of this gendered society, we recognize and accept characteristics of femininity and masculinity, moulding our bodies and altering our body images accordingly to fit social expectations.

 These gendered attitudes are emphasized in our system of schooling, creating and maintaining gender inequalities, part of which includes society greatly emphasising and controlling the female body. Young girls in Singapore today are at an increasing risk of negative body images and low self- esteem, which may be due to social stereotyping and cultural notions of female bodies that are reinforced within their schools.

 Stereotyping girls as intellectually-inferior to their male counterparts damages their notions of self-worth, and instead overemphasizes the importance of female physical attractiveness, instead of personal traits.  Hailing from a single-sex secondary school, my schoolmates and I were commonly described as “bimbos” and “girly” by others. The identity of an entire school community was reduced to simplistic, and not-so-flattering, stereotypes of femininity, often despite its evident merit in both academics and sports. In fact, it is common practice in popular culture for schools to be ranked based on the perceived physical attractiveness of their female students. This attitude assumes a woman’s natural state as an object valued for aesthetic appeal. Her potential as a person is undermined by sending the message that women are more valued for their appearance than for their talents.  What effects will the subtle, yet large-scale, objectification of female students in schools have on their perception of themselves?

 Perhaps what is even more distressing is the school administration’s growing role in imposing unrealistic ideals of the female body. At a recent family gathering, I found out that my seven-year-old cousin has been deemed overweight and forced to join a “Health Club” at school. Apparently, in many primary schools all over the country, it is becoming increasingly common for “overweight” children to be forced to join health clubs, skipping recess and partaking in physical activity as part of an initiative to combat childhood obesity. Essentially, “Health Club”, or more commonly, TAF (Trim and Fit) clubs, are premises to enforce rigid notions of ideal body types, and, perhaps even more dangerously, equate being thin with being ‘healthy’. As a result, adolescents are body-shamed into believing that being “skinny” is the ideal body shape.

In an interview with NBC News, a primary school girl expressed that she felt “sad…to look at people [because they were] so skinny and could wear so many clothes”. At just ten years old, this little girl has already developed a distorted body image and an inferiority complex. Demanding that she forgo food during recess in favour of dribbling a basketball, as in many such clubs in the name of ‘health’, will only worsen the problem. One could argue that these school policies, designed originally with good intentions, are now creating body image problems for future generations. By policing their bodies from a young age, these girls are taught that they must live up to society’s expectations of how they should look and dress. Damagingly, this then results in females themselves learning to measure their value by their appearance.

However, gender stereotypes are harmful to all, even male students. With emphasis on masculinity in the media, more boys are under pressure to live up to society’s notions of what a “real man” is. In a study conducted on participants who had undergone penile enlargement surgery, a majority of the participants had expressed previous reservations about going into shared school showers and engaging in physical activities in school–showing once again that the negative effects of gender expectations start from early on, most often at some point in school. Many participants cited anxiety about their peers’ perception of how ‘macho’, or masculine, they were as a prime reason for undergoing such an intensive surgical procedure. More and more young boys feel increasing pressure to have an idealised male body as popularised in the media, and uphold traditionally ‘masculine’ traits like strength. These attitudes are not helped by others in their peer group reinforcing and perpetuating these pressures on the individual. Gender stereotypes and expectations, if accepted as a normal, run-of-the-mill part of our society, may predict insecurities for the male population as well.

Obviously, society’s strict adherence to gender stereotypes and body ideals can be injurious to both females, as well as males. When education systems emphasize these suffocating constraints of gender inequality, there are potentially dangerous implications for one’s perception of self. Moreover, considering the power school wields over our youth, we, as a community, have to take steps to increase awareness of the harmful gender stereotypes we see in our classrooms, and everywhere else.