334 Marbles
If an Arab in the desert were suddenly to discover a spring in his tent, and so would always be able to have water in abundance, how fortunate he would consider himself; so too, when a man who ... is always turned toward the outside, thinking that his happiness lies outside him, finally turns inward and discovers that the source is within him.
Søren Kierkegaard
My eldest son surprised me yesterday by referring to a girl from school as a slut after her behavior at a school dance. I was curious about the label because I know what it meant thirty years ago, but I don’t know what it means now. He told me that now, there was such a thing as a male slut, and I noted a marginal improvement from when I was growing up when such a term was nonexistent. We had a discussion about labels and sexuality that reminded me of an experience I had after “church” one day…
A dozen years ago, I went with a friend to her pseudo-church on the scenic Granville Island. After the service we went to the farmer’s market for a coffee. As we were seated, several people joined us at our table, and finally a young, hot couple sat down. The girl had just gotten a belly-button-piercing and was commenting on how much it hurt. The men at the table all showed interest and wanted to see her new piercing. She rolled up her shirt and lowered her pants to reveal her new piercing. She was lovely. There where "Oohs" and "Aahs," statements of approval, and general gawking from the men at the table.
A short time later, her boyfriend said that he recently got a tattoo on is upper arm. My friend blurted, “Let’s see.” The atmosphere at the table shifted: the girlfriend got silently indignant as her boyfriend rolled up his shirt to expose his inked pipes. He was lovely. The discomfort at the table was palpable. We left shortly after.
As we walked away, I asked my friend, “Did you have to do that?” “Do what?” she asked. “The thing with the tattoo.” “Why was that any different than those lascivious boys with the belly button?” I knew it was different, but I didn’t have an answer for her.
I have an answer now – the male gaze. The male gaze is the accepted way of viewing the world through the lens of hetero male desire. It’s what makes females objects of fantasy, movie making, and advertising. Even our mytholog justifies this view by relating how at the beginning of time, the first woman, Eve, made her own decision based on her own desire and that led to nothing but trouble (except for the subsequent fashion industry, of course).
So what is the female gaze? Some argue that it doesn’t exist. I tend to think that it’s an internal value for the self and the body that isn’t related to external factors. It’s what happens when the moon starts shining from the inside and doesn’t just reflect the light from the sun. I believe it is our journey as women because, inevitably, our "looks" fade and we better have something of substance to replace that particular currency.
Our job, post breakup, is to draw back our light so, when the time is right, we will shine forth with luminosity. The trick is, as Kierkegaard's quote suggests, be the well. (Yep, I know I'm mixing metaphors here. It's a habit of mine.)
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