To Whom Do We Owe Our Bodies?
Sometimes I wish that I were just a body, grounded in the present, unbeholden to anything, floating in a state of bliss. I wish my choices didn’t represent layers of meaning.
The other week I was wasting my time reading the snarky comments under an article about a female porn star who slept with 1,057 men in 12 hours. With her recent feat, OnlyFans content creator Bonnie Blue has broken the record of 919 men, achieved by Lisa Sparxxx in 2004.
I caught myself spiraling through various permutations of “OMG, arrest her now”, “Her father must be proud”, and “Beef curtains hanging by the wind.” To say that people were triggered about it would be an understatement. It roused something deep within people, like a leviathan surfacing from aqua incognita. And it wasn’t just men. Some women savagely joined the conversation, jeering and mocking the porn star and lamenting the loss of morality and traditional values.
The individual body has been a political warzone throughout human history, with religions and states exercising control over how we eat, sleep, and desire. As a gay man, my sexual orientation (or specifically, the overt practice of it) remains criminal in 64 countries. Feminism may have won a lot of liberties for women, but we’re now realizing how fragile those victories are, as countries push back on women’s rights, restricting their legal access to abortion and in extreme cases, forbidding them to speak in public.
I’m not here to debate whether the body is political. I know our individual decisions influence political discourse. Beauty culture commentator Jessica DeFino, in her criticism of beauty culture, pointed how divesting from it individually could stop its perpetuation:
“It may be helpful to think of beauty culture like an MLM (Multi-Level Marketing company): Beauty standards (the product) are produced by the powers that be: patriarchy, white supremacy, capitalism, colonialism. They’re then distributed by high-level executives: Corporations, brands, editors, influencers, dermatologists, aestheticians, reporters, celebrities. Individuals buy into these beauty standards and, in turn, ‘sell’ those standards to their communities, creating a ‘downline.’ The standards are now everywhere, as ubiquitous as a pair of LuLaRoe leggings.
In other words, society/culture conditions us into conforming to beauty standards. When we conform, we become the conditioners, compounding the conditioning for those within our personal spheres of influence. That conditioning radiates outward from us as individuals, through our private and personal networks, and into social networks, organizations, the general public, and finally, the culture. It comes full circle.”
While I agree with the point she’s making, I admittedly still find it hard to fully swear off my skincare products. The men’s skincare industry is growing, and there’s reason for that: while the pressure on women is greater, men – even cisgender heterosexual men – are no longer immune from the demands that beauty culture imposes. There are material advantages that come with complicity, especially for people like me (not from the Global North, immigrant, gay, not from the ruling elite in my country.)
I know it’s a delusion to think that my individual actions do not have social repercussions, as much as it is to claim that society does not influence how I act within the system. But I can’t help but think, can I even fully claim ownership of my body if I am at the mercy of greater forces beyond my control? Just thinking about the idea that every decision is a vote for how a society must be shaped already exhausts me. I don’t imagine myself as some kind of savior who will overhaul the entire system. But at the same time, I struggle with being complicit in systems that harm other people (and also fellow sentient beings, which is the reason I’m vegan.)
It’s the same trouble that gnaws at me when I think about how capitalism enabled the rise of queer identities, and yet we see how the very same system that allowed us to flourish is now harming people and the planet at an escalating pace. Does my individual happiness justify the harm it has caused? We can imagine socialism to be an alternative system to replace it, but how do we put guardrails so it doesn’t eventually slip into the obliteration of minorities like me?
Sometimes I wish that I were just a body, grounded in the present, unbeholden to anything, floating in a state of bliss. I wish my choices didn’t represent layers of meaning. But I know that’s impossible. It’s a bitter pill lodged in my throat, refusing to be digested.