It’s my 5th anniversary, to the day; such a strange feeling.
I’ve made incredible friends I hope to know the rest of my life, pushed myself to grow as a woman, mother, and artist, and been warmly accepted by an incredible community of other writers, advocates, and artists (see my blogroll on the sidebar).
This blog has changed my life. Thank you so much for coming along with me on this journey. You all mean so much to me, Internet Boyfriend!
This week I kept it simple with loose breasts under a tank top out at the dog park, just plain and real. I think it’s a fitting marker for 5 years. No fanfare necessary.
I want to take Boobday to the next level and am contemplating a name change. I worry that “Boobday” makes it sound less beautiful, less important, less impactful. But maybe that’s just me?
So, having said that, I need your help! If you have a second, please answer these questions (you can pick more than one answer for the second poll) and I’ll go from there. Hopefully more than one person shares their answers!
Keep in mind what my mission is for Boobday:
To provide a safe place where women can display their bodies to both feel empowered and to empower others, to embrace body love and positivity and eschew body shaming, and lastly to show that confidence, sexiness, and health come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and origins.
Ok, guys. Lets get to gettin’.
Here are our 2 regular lovely ladies for your viewing pleasure.
Sorry for the late posting! There was literally no way in hell I could have gotten it up unless I’d written it 2 weeks ago! This week has been balls to the wall; I’ve barely even slept!
Anyway, I hope all my fellow Americans had a lovely Thanksgiving Day and many thanks to everyone for being so wonderful to me throughout the last few months. I’m beginning to feel more like Hy and this blog is becoming more and more attractive to me.
Givers of sustenance to our children and pleasure to our lovers of all genders. They’re inextricably linked, yet distinct.
When my baby suckled it was a deep, rich pull from within. A surge through my nipple then a little release into obscurity. Looking down at that face I felt ancient and powerful, complete. This is what they were meant for first and foremost.
Or maybe that’s wrong.
Maybe they are there for pleasure, to lure in a man to create the life in the first place. A siren call to touch and suckle again and plant their seed deep in my body. A tidy circle.
The complexity between sex and nurturing confounds many, but they are a dual reality. I don’t understand why we fight against the truth: breasts are both sexual and non-sexual.
Want to know how to tell the difference?? Ask the woman.
A woman is sexualized throughout her lifetime for doing the most mundane of things. A woman who is breastfeeding does not intend to titillate, she’s feeding her child. Likewise, a woman who is wearing swimwear, a fitted shirt, a berka, a turtleneck, a plunging neckline all while having breasts is simply conforming to the costume of her culture. What’s the weather like? What’s her mood? What does her religion say? To assume she is attempting to excite is an easy excuse to react negatively towards her.
We’ve progressed to a complex system of arousal based on exposure that really does nothing to avert or slake a man’s lust. A woman’s body is not the tinder to a man’s spark. His imagination and power is. In this sense cleavage or a nipple is as tantalizing as an ankle or a lined eye; we can’t control it! A woman cannot ever in her lifetime avoid being the object of a man’s lust, nor is it her responsibility to do so; it is his job to manage it and behave humanely.
So here I am ranting on about breasts and why they are both sexual and non-sexual. Even without a babe to nurse I use my breasts in a non-sexual manner. I use them for warm, squishy hugs with children — I remember well the hugs from my mother with my face in her warm bosom. I walk proudly and with confidence so younger women may see that all shapes are beautiful. I discuss consent and victim shaming as they pertain to women’s bodies and bared breasts being an oft discussed topic.
In any case, this is by no means the end of this discussion, but just some things that have been on my mind. I will continue my little mission to defuse the negative aura surrounding breasts and bring a sense of autonomy to our bodies, but so long as people can’t find distinct places in which to categorize breasts and nipples they will always fall into the one — sex — and they (we) will forever be considered inappropriate.
No matter what we cover up we are sexualized and very often against our will. Hiding our bodies feels more like a capitulation than a solution. It’s why this meme means so much to me. Take it off, show it off, do your thing. Not only do you not have to look a certain way, but you’re also allowed to share whatever you please of yourself.
Perhaps it’s a sexual event for you or perhaps not. For me on these days there’s an allusion to sex — I’m often semi-nude, after all, and I hope to inspire — but it is not an invitation or even a proclamation. It is most simply a woman’s form, unadorned, and exposed. Both a sexual being and non-sexual. All woman. Interpretation is art, violence is choice.
Love you guys. Keep doing your thing. There is no shame in loving to show your body. Absolutely none. Nor is it a call to abuse you. It’s a beautiful place, this complex, tricky thing we call our body and the more we stand up for our rights to do with it as we please, the more it will feel normal to do so.
[Ed. Note: I changed a few words to better delineate my meaning. I know how confusing it is for some to see me expose myself and then seem to say “Don’t be aroused,” but that’s not what I meant and I hope my few word changes have cleared that up. To be clear: You may be aroused, but that arousal (of penis or ire) means nothing about me as a human being and is not an invitation to act upon whatever feelings you might have – be that violence or vitriol.)
Friday is here, y’all!! Thank you so much for sticking around as I reorganize my brain and my feelings. I started a real post earlier in the week, but then I got sick (bronchitis) and my headaches have been increasing (CT scan is all clear!). In any case, it’s been a long, rough week.
Faisal still hasn’t come home and this week has been a long string of crying jags, otherwise irritating life setbacks, and very little sleep. Hence the later-than-I-like post today. Anyway, sorry about that, guys.
I’m still here, still chillin’, still thinking. One thing I’ve determined is I can’t give up on this blog because I am Hy as much — if not more than — me. I’ve just got to figure out how it fits into my life and why. I’m working on it. Everyday.
Y’all may have noticed, but I’m informally chillin’ from the blog. I’m not quitting and I haven’t set any deadlines, I’m just waiting until I feel that bubble come to the surface that lures me to write. Currently, it feels somewhere deep down and no where near the top. I’m ok with that.
But Boobday isn’t about my writing, so here we are.
Our lovely participants this week have all accidentally given similar poses and even the one I chose (before I’d seen all of theirs) is close. Funny how that worked out!