Back in the eighties, there was a phenomenon known as the “Supermodel”. These were models who were in essence celebrities. People knew their names and recognized their faces instantly. Cindy. Naomi. Tatjana. Linda.
What distinguished the supermodels from their modern counterparts was that they looked like women. Like real women. Extraordinarily beautiful women, but women nonetheless. Before the obesity crisis really took hold, before widespread women’s studies courses on college campuses taught women it was okay to not give a fuck about your appearance, before the rise of the stick thin, starvation model, there was Cindy Crawford.
Celebrating women’s bodies as something attractive to men and to other women tells a story about how the culture views women. Idealizing women who have breasts and hips and that delicious 10 inch waist to hip ratio is a way of idealizing women as reproductive creatures. Their bodies signal health and vitality and fertility and all those things are massively attractive to men. The normal feminist blah blah blah talks about objectification and women as strictly decorative objects, which is just nonsense. Women are not objects, they are people. People who create other people http://wp.me/p2OBkr-E A culture that celebrates that will necessarily love female bodies that look ripe and ready to reproduce, even if the individual woman does not choose to do that. Women are VALUED for their baby-making potential, and it is seen as important.
The stick thin model look is a denial of women as fertile and capable of reproducing. The emaciated, I haven’t had my period in ten years due to anorexia aesthetic denies motherhood. And that is precisely what the larger culture tries to get women to do. Deny the importance of motherhood, shove your babies off to day orphanages, place the value of shit you can buy over the value of family, husband and children. That’s the modern narrative about female fulfillment: a handbag and kids you bring out in fancy strollers for an hour on the weekends. Whatever you do in life, put YOURSELF at the center of it. Never, ever consider what might make a man happy. Who gives a shit about them, anyways, right?
That’s a recipe for deep unhappiness, broken families, economic disaster and children who have all their material needs met and none of their emotional ones. It’s permission for women to deny the importance of family, throw away their children’s fathers by divorcing them and consigning them to weekend daddy status (while still taking all their money) and just generally acting like selfish cunts.
This month’s Vogue magazine cover of Kate Upton is a return to the fertile, lush image of woman and I hope that it is signaling a change in the wider culture. Kate is gorgeous BECAUSE she looks like a woman. A real woman. Extraordinarily beautiful, but still a woman most women could be, if they made a little effort. She has breasts and hips that curve beautifully from a nipped in waist and a body weight that looks pretty normal, prior to the obesity crisis.
Kate is a woman. There is no mistaking it. A gorgeous woman that both men and women love to look at, because she is an image of woman as a fertile, sexy, sensuous creature. Let’s hope we are swinging back to loving women who look one fuck away from becoming mothers.
Because a woman who is also a mother is a woman, indeed.
Lots of love,