Comment on THE BRITISH COLONIZED OUR NIPPLES đŹđ§âď¸đ§
33550336@lemmy.world â¨2⊠â¨weeks⊠ago
Let me just express an opinion that corsets are fucking sexy
bro really said âcorsets are sexyâ in the nipple reclamation thread đ
respectfully, a corset is just victorian scaffolding designed to make breathing optional. meanwhile our grandmothers were out there in an unstitched sari, tiddies free, breeze accessible, no ribs crushed for the sake of fashion. thatâs sexy.
colonizers really said âbind your torso so we know youâre civilizedâ and yâall are out here calling it a vibe đ
reclaim the drape. let the lungs expand. thank u.
All right, I get your point. I meant modern corsets, which do not harm anyone. I see this is not the best place to express such an opinion.
I wholeheartedly agree that the comment youâre replying to was in poor taste (indeed, the reason why I left the comment I did was because I wanted to redirect the conversation to something more in-keeping with the spirit of the article (and because it personally irks me to see corsets reduced down to just being sexy, and the modern perception of corsets often ends up erasing or overwriting the historical richness of them)
However, I want to challenge your assertion that âa corset is just victorian scaffolding designed to make breathing optional.â. I have a few points of contention with this, and I hope that I donât come across like an asshole in picking at this statement â I am writing this comment because this thread has made it clear that we are kindred spirits in terms of our passion for learning about material culture and history.
The idea of historic corsets being super uncomfortable and restrictive is largely misinformation, driven by how corsets function in a modern context. Itâs not really a garment that works with fast fashion. For instance, here is a âŹ100 corset, which I would consider to be extremely cheap. This kind of thing is what Iâd reluctantly recommend if a friend wanted a corset that was a cheap as possible. This is quite shocking for many, because âŹ100 for one garment is still pretty damn expensive, especially if thatâs still what Iâd consider to be cheap. But itâs simply not possible to make a corset cheaply (not even when produced by exploited workers in countries where labour is cheaper). Hereâs an example of an actually decent corset from a corsetière and pattern maker respected by historical fashion enthusiasts. Itâs $350, and thatâs its heavily discounted clearance price (They donât have any full price examples atm)
But the problem goes deeper than that. Modern corsets are often made using drastically different methods that produce a garment that is inherently uncomfortable. This applies even to extremely high end, or bespoke brands. Most corsets youâll buy today are way heavier and more rigid than historic corsets, due to using more layers of fabric (fabric thatâs often synthetic, and thus less breathable), and lots of steel boning (as opposed to synthetic whalebone, cane, or cording, which would be more historical).
Abby Cox is a fashion historian who has a great video analysing why modern corsets are so uncomfortable . She compares a variety of modern corsets to authentic Victorian corsets. I think this is a great example because it is true that Victorian corsets were more structured than corsets from previous eras. It really highlights how our modern perception of corsets is based on things that are fundamentally ahistorical. I also like this video because Abby is viscerally offended by some of the modern corsets, which captures my own feelings on this.
Itâs also important to understand corsets in their historical context too, especially what function they provided. For example, bones corsets are super useful for helping distribute the load of many heavy skirts. Thatâs part of why I like to wear corsets â I have a belt thingy that I wear with an excessive number of pockets, pockets and tool loops on it, and thatâs so heavy that it can be uncomfortable to wear without a corset underneath. Itâs essential to understand that people wore corsets because they were comfortable. Iâve seen people complete obstacle courses while wearing corsets that appear super restrictive to the modern eye, but are actually well fitted, light and not restrictive of movement. The majority of people wearing corsets back then were people who needed to be able to do work (including manual labour) in them, and if corsets limited that, people wouldnât have worn them.
Now, that isnât to say that trends in fashion and patriarchal expectations of how a woman should dress isnât part of the picture here â it 100% is, and thatâs part of the historic context thatâs important to understand. In a patriarchal society, itâs impossible to fully understand womenâs fashion history without taking into account gendered expectations. However, even that is something that can be easily misunderstood from a modern eye in a manner that erases the agency of the historic women who wore these clothes.
Some of the silliest trends in womenâs fashion history were heavily driven by women. People see images like this and often go "ones that make people go âlook at how much more oppressive the patriarchal expectations on women were back thenâ, but thatâs missing so much context. My favourite example to drive home this point is the farthingale skirt, which is a wide framed structure that is worn beneath skirts to give a hoop shape near the hips â the image I shared is an example of one. I really love the example of absurdly large farthingale skirts because, far from being a silly trend pushed upon women by patriarchal expectations, this was actually a thing that pissed off a lot of men of the time. Men were like âboo, the skirts that women are wearing these days are bad, because itâs so much harder to get close to themâ. Women were like âoh, you donât say? <Makes skirt even wider>â. When this pissed the men off even more, they just made them wider still. Iâve read some interesting academic articles that examine how farthingales were a means for women in the Elizabethan era to take up more space â both literally and figuratively. In a sense, the farthingale skirt was a form of feminist resistance.
And this kind of thing happens across eras â much of the modern misunderstandings about how restrictive Victorian corsets were is based on male-centred scaremongering that was like âlook at those silly women with their tight corsets. Theyâre causing serious damage to their ability to be baby makersâ (though often these claims of harm had no evidence to support them, but were propagated because loud and powerful men have a disproportionately large impact). Fashion history as an academic discourse is relatively new, in large part because it is only relatively recently that it was able to gain enough respect to be understood as a valid field of academic inquiry. Even now though, it still occupies a marginalised position in the discourse (much like the women who made and wore these clothes, and the many women within this field of study).
If youâve read this far, then I earnestly thank you for your willingness to hear me out. Despite all Iâve written, I still feel like Iâm only scratching the surface. To bring it back to your statement that âa corset is just victorian scaffolding designed to make breathing optionalâ, my TL;DR response is that this is a factually incorrect statement that I am challenging you on because this is the kind of misinformation that harms our modern understanding of the reality of historical corsets.
I apologise if thatâs a bit blunt. I certainly donât blame you for holding this incorrect belief â like I said, these kinds of myths are so prevalent that they affect even high end modern corsetry. I wrote all of this because I felt it to be a part of my ethical duty to correct you, but also, I wanted to do it in a manner that would be conducive to learning. Weâre both coming into this conversation with different lived experiences and cultural contexts, so itâs inevitable that there are going to be blind spots where we either hold inaccurate beliefs, or lack knowledge about cultures that we arenât already rooted in. For instance, I never knew about Jnanadanandini Devi before reading the linked post, and Iâm grateful to you for giving me the opportunity to learn something thatâs far beyond the small facet of fashion history Iâve had a chance to study.
I have more to say, but today I learned that Lemmy comments have a character limit. I will continue below.
Which leads me onto my final, and largest issue I had with your statement. Even ignoring its inaccuracy, Iâm not keen on how youâre using corsets to contrast with how saris were worn historically â it reads as âcorsets are bad, and saris, which are the polar opposite of corsets, are goodâ. Itâs not actually the âcorsets badâ part of that that I have beef with (the rest of my comment already thoroughly addresses that point), but rather the juxtaposition of corsets and saris. Rhetorically, it feels like the bit about the freedom of unstitched saris is implicitly reliant on the notion that corsets are restrictive and bad. This means that, if you were to read my thoughts on corsets and say âokay, I see now that I unintentionally misrepresented corsets as being more restrictive than they areâ, that would implicitly diminish the weight of your point about unstitched saris.
Which is to say that unstitched saris and the recent nipple reclamation movement is a beautiful piece of history and culture that does not need to compare itself to European culture in order to be valuable. Defining oneself in opposition to an oppressive force is just another way of being subordinate to that force and is an obstacle to genuine liberation (this thought brought to you by someone who had a ânot like other girlsâ phase as a teenager, where I looked down on all things feminine as a reaction to my growing understanding of patriarchal bullshit).
Corsets, are, of course, relevant to the discussion, in that theyâre a part of the British culture that was forced on so many people across the world. However, I think itâs important to avoid putting too much emphasis on directly comparing the features and benefits of historical sari wearing to British fashion. The beauty in material history, for me, is in understanding how things like clothing developed over time as a result of a particular cultural context. I have no doubt that if I could delve into the history of saris, I would find a history just as rich and nuanced as I have found for corsetry. Iâd see how things changed as a result of new technologies, silly fashion trends, economic circumstances, cultural exchange with neighbouring countries and religions and more. Or to put it a different way, the beauty is in how a piece of clothing can be an anchor for a particular situated perspective.
One of the many tragedies of colonialism is that it acts outside the natural and beautiful mechanisms of cultural development, and tries to overpower the existing culture and history of a place with its oppressive stench. Writing this comment had got me grieving for an alternate timeline in which the British had come to India and, although initially shocked by clothing they considered to be indecent, came to understand this was just because their sensibilities and preferences had been calibrated in a completely different cultural context. Then that mightâve been the foundation for realising that India having such a drastically different culture and history to Britain was precisely why there was so much that we could have learned from India, if we had been open to engaging in genuine cultural exchange, as equals. Maybe in that world, weâd see fashion trends in Britain be influenced by how unstitched saris were worn (as opposed to appropriating materials and methods divorced from their contexts). Maybe that would lead to a world where British ideas of decency developed to the extent that we might be seeing fashion become more open to the idea of bare breasts. Maybe in India, we could be seeing Indian fashion designers borrowing Inspirations from the more structured British fashion, incorporating them into the rich history of saris and other traditional clothing. You know, the kind of genuine cultural exchange that we can see happening if we study the developmental history of British fashion alongside French fashion. But alas, that kind of dialogue is only possible between equals, and the British came to colonise, not to have conversations.
I have gotten a little off track there with that wistful tangent, but itâs because Iâm having difficulty articulating the point that compelled me to write these comments â I wouldnât have written nearly this much if not for this larger point that Iâm struggling with.
I think that Iâm trying to say that in British history, corsets were not a garment of oppression. In my hypothetical, alternate timeline, corsets would not have been a garment of oppression in India either, and could have coexisted with bare-breasted, unstitched saris in continual conversation with each other; in that world, directly contrasting the features of corsets and saris would have made more sense. However, due to colonialism, they very much are a garment of oppression for India and many many other countries. That sucks, and I wish it werenât the case, but it is. And at that point, it often becomes necessary to throw away the artifacts of oppression in their entirety, in order to reclaim the history and culture that colonialism attempted to erase.
I guess the TL;DR of this is that the value of this history exists independently of British historical, and need not justify itself in opposition to such
Iâm not sure I managed to capture what I wanted to say very well, but I hope Iâm close enough that you get my gist. Please do let me know if thereâs anything you would add or amend about my points, because my goal here isnât to lecture at you, but to engage in a conversation (which is possible even if you donât find yourself inclined to reply). If you feel I have been an asshole at any point in these comments, I am open to being called out on that. After all, the last thing I want to do is to be yet another British asshole attempting to speak over and override people. I canât go back in time and prevent colonialism, but I can attempt to recognise the impact of historic (and ongoing) oppression, and aim to subvert that by engaging in conversations between equals. I learned a lot from this post, and my hope for my first comment was that I could reciprocate by telling you about something relevant that I know a heckton about. I wrote this second comment because the rhetorical shape of how you used corsets as a contrast reminds me of something I have slipped into quite a few times in the context of some of the axes on which I am marginalised. I tended not to notice it until allies and friends pointed it out to me, and that changed now I framed things. I was hoping that I might be able to do something similar for you, because Iâve found that the shape of oppression looks uncannily consistent, no matter what axis it occurs on. Iâm unsure of whether I have been coherent enough to actually achieve this, mind. In hindsight, I should have probably gone to bed at least an hour ago, and not attempted to say something so complex when Iâm this tired, but oh well ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ
AnarchistArtificer@slrpnk.net â¨2⊠â¨weeks⊠ago
One of the things that I love about corsets is that they have a long history, where the shape and style of them changed over time. A corset in the Tudor style is going to look different to a Victorian corset, and I find them beautiful in their own ways (and yes, often sexy too).
Having learned of this history makes me appreciate the tragedy of how Indian cultural norms and traditions were smothered by the oppressive rule of the British. Itâs a slightly silly hypothetical, but imagine if the dynamic were reversed, and garments like corsets were suppressed due to how structured they are compared to flowing garments like saris. That would suck, because that would mean weâd lose access to an aspect of our cultural heritage. Even for people who know naff all about Western fashion history, if you think that corsets are sexy, then you are partly responding to that history â because everything that came before us becomes embedded in our current cultural understanding.
I know a ton about corsetry, and itâs an incredibly dense and rich topic to learn about. It makes me feel incredibly small to realise that every culture across the world has their own traditions of material culture that are just as rich â but itâs a good kind of feeling small, where I am filled with a sense of awe. Iâm glad to hear about women making an effort to reclaim parts of their cultural heritage that have been masked by colonialist oppression.
PeshawarToToronto@lemmy.world â¨2⊠â¨weeks⊠ago
finally someone who gets the depth of textile history without using it to deflect đ
and since youâre into corsets â let me introduce you to the ultimate power move: Jnanadanandini Devi.
yes, that Jnanadanandini. sister-in-law to Rabindranath Tagore (Asiaâs first Nobel laureate, no big deal). in the essay thereâs an illustration of her in a traditional bare-breasted drape. buxom. unapologetic. regal.
so what did the British do when they saw her like that? banned her from their fancy club. because her tiddies were too powerful for their establishment đ
imagine being told âcover up, we have rulesâ while theyâre out here lacing themselves into rib-crushers just to achieve the illusion of a wasp waist.
and then? she folded. started wearing a blouse. and then â this is the knife twist â she went and popularized the stitched blouse for Bengali women. became the vector. the patient zero of Victorian chest modesty.
so the woman who couldâve been our nipple warrior ended up being the one who strapped us all into the very garment of colonial shame đ
the brits didnât just ban her. they converted her. and she converted us.
thatâs the real tragedy. not just that they colonized the nipple â but that one of our own handed them the needle and thread â¨
now every blouse you wear is a tiny monument to that club in Bombay that said âyour breasts are too muchâ and she said âokay fineâ and weâve been saying âokay fineâ ever since.