“Until I became human, nobody ever told me there was something wrong with my body.”

-Christina Henry, The Mermaid

When did you first notice your boobs? Were they too big? Or not big enough? Uncomfortable, Enticing? And when did they become private? When did bath time and summer sprinklers in the front yard become something you had to do differently than your brother or the neighbor boys? 

The truth is, I couldn’t tell you when I began to think of my breasts as anything different than an extra piece of me. Maybe it was in 5th grade when Alexis’s got so big and everyone said she stuffed them with socks. Or when Breanna started kissing Shane behind the relo in 6th grade and all the boys were jealous because she had the “nicest rack.”  When did our breasts become our value, the reason for our beauty, and worth? 

Where does the female modesty of exposing our breasts come from and, with it, the shame?

According to gotopless.org (trust me, it’s legit) there are three states in which showing the female breast in public is 100%, completely illegal by state law. These states are Indiana, Tennessee, and Utah. Funny enough, Utah simultaneously has the most children per family unit, according to Insider.com. One wonders where all those children are getting breast fed? (Most likely behind Zion curtains). 

If you’re good at math, which admittedly I am not, that leaves the majority of the United States unaccounted for as far as topless laws. Surprisingly 32 states in the US have top freedom, which is the cultural and social movement of women baring their nipples of all shapes and sizes in the public domain, legally. This surprised me. I had no idea that so many states celebrate body freedom. However, this begs the question, is it a move for equality or just sexualization? Will women’s chests ever truly be considered synonymous with their arms or their feet? And if not ( because let’s be real) why not? 

Summer of 2013, I had just graduated from college and with my new found scholarly brain, I decided the next step to adulthood was using my whopping life savings of $5,000 to take a hiatus to Europe with my bestie. We planned everything out, pinching pennies by couch surfing. Which was a trendy way of marketing to poor, young travelers a “safe way” of staying with strange, but wonderful men on their couches or in their homes for free. Can you imagine doing that today? 

One of the places we ended up was a beach in Nice, France. The aqua blue waters of the Mediterranean, rocky beaches, and cheap beer called to us and so, we went. One of the things I was most excited for was being topless, in public! I marveled at the leathery skinned french woman, smoking Gauloises and pointing her uncovered nipples straight to the sun. The mother, yelling at her children to not go too far. Her breasts out, one pointing east and the other west. What a place. 

I quickly, but coolly, removed my Target, sale rack, salmon pink swim top and stretched out on the bouldered beach. After several minutes passed I inadvertently began to notice men, all ages walking by, dicks smashed into banana hammocks, staring. AT ME. I thought, “oh god, is this not ok for tourists? Is this NOT a topless beach!” 

I suddenly became self conscious in my decision, my body, and my freedom. If this was normal, for women to be topless on a French beach on the goddamn Med, why were all these horny grandpas staring? And as quickly as my swimsuit strings had sprung off my naive 23 year old body, I realized. It doesn’t matter where you are, what you are doing, or even if it is the norm. To most of the world, women’s bodies, equal objects. More specifically, our bodies have been culturally curated, over thousands of years to entice the male gaze and our breasts, small, flat, lopsided, melon shaped, or full of saline, are for them.

I do not think our goal should be to walk into the city pool one sweltering summer day in the near future, and see bare chests all over the place. I believe the time has long passed for the notion that all bodies are equal, can be equal, or should be seen as equivalent to one another. The human form has too much history, too much expectation, and too much damage. Bodies are more than carriers of bones and guts. They have been and are still viewed as political instruments and property. 

Would everyone be happier if all bodies had been treated the same from day one? As vessels to support us in the grueling battles of life. If this were the case, I have no doubt humanity would be a better place. Young people may not stand in front of the mirror and hate everything they see. Women may not be overwhelmingly targeted, assaulted, and raped. Trans youth could be exactly who they want to be and a white, bigoted male governor wouldn’t have a say in their medical care, for their survival. But in the end, we are just animals who cover our breasts to appease everyone around us. In spite of this, I believe this can be where our power lies. Women, shape shifters that we are, have strategically adapted to re-learn our bodies and take ownership of them. To honor our bodies, on our conditions. For some it may be showing their breasts, unapologetically at a protest, pride parade, or at a beach. For others, protecting it, covering what is sacred. Throughout this exploration, I have come away with one golden nugget. There’s no right or wrong way to celebrate your body, your femininity, and your breasts. As long as you do it on your terms. Just know you may see me at a party with my titties out, cuz fuck the patriarchy.