to exist as a woman is to be an object.
an object,
created for use by non-objects, created for consumption. an object, desired only by your hands when you need me, when i can be of service to you. an object to play with. an object for your entertainment. an object, who’s parts are for you to control.
an object—
i should always be available to you. i should only blink with submission. i should only show subtle signs of life, careful not to remind you that i’m not an object, at all.
what does it mean to be an object? and, when did i become one—an object?
the theory of objectification was established in 1997, and has been thoroughly expanded upon since—especially in the age of social media. according to this theory, women are often treated as objects, valued primarily for their physical appearance and sexual attractiveness rather than for their abilities, character, or accomplishments.
as an object, i can tell you, it’s less than that. to be a woman is to be seen as a sexual object, and within objectness is the idea that a woman is always available for use.
“objectification entails several characteristics, arguably the most crucial one being instrumentality, where people are reduced to things serving others’ ends…sexual functions are separated from their person for use and consumption.”1
when did i become an object?
was it when my breasts became tender and began to grow, loosely held in a training bra? at what age did you stop seeing me as a human and begin seeing me as an object? was i ever a human, a non-object, or was i just an object too small to be used?
when did i become an object? was it when i was alone, unsupervised, with no one to watch over me—with no one to protect me? from you, from becoming an object.
when did i become an object? was it when there was no ring on my finger, no claim of ownership by another man? a man, the only non-objects in your world.
when did i become an object? when did the blood drain from my body? when did my nerves shrivel and die? when did i stop being someone and become something?
recently, i made a mistake. a mistake that all women make—a man became aware of my existence. i posted a picture of myself on my secondary instagram account—an account where i follow friends from high school and college to congratulate them on their career accomplishments and comment “how cute!” on pictures of their children. an account i didn’t feel the need to make private prior to this encounter—i have no posts and if you don’t know who i am, it has no appeal. an account where i felt safe.
but, to exist as a woman is to never be safe. to exist as a woman is to be in danger in the minds of others—to be helpless behind smiling eyes. to exist as a woman is to, often, wish we did not exist, at all—to pray that my footsteps on the pavement go unheard, that the sun swirling in my brown eyes goes unseen. to exist as a woman is to pray that my existence goes unnoticed entirely, for my safety, for my peace.
and, recently, i made the mistake of posting myself on my instagram story, wearing my new black lululemon tennis skirt and, in that moment, a man i do not know became aware of my existence, and within the eyes of a man i do not know, i became an object.
i read these messages initially, in confusion, then, in anger. i re-read his question and my response, i was trying to find where in our brief conversation i gave any indication that this was a wanted and appropriate interaction. but, i knew i wouldn’t find it.
“women are reduced to their bodies and sexual body parts for the use of others. in line with this reasoning, men have shown approach tendencies when they dehumanize sexually objectified women [26]…[objectification] is associated with the desire to approach the objectified target because of their instrumentality.”2
when men view women as sexual objects—as mere tools of ejaculation—they approach women, dick first. this has become such a frequent occurrence, that many women, rightfully, have begun to decline engaging with any man they do not know.
“why don’t women smile at men anymore? why can’t men approach women anymore? why don’t women seem open to casual conversation with men anymore?”
because nobody wants to see your dick.
because nobody wants to be unsuspectingly lured into a seemingly innocent conversation with a man, all the while the question, the comment, the small talk is just a worm on a hook, as that man is hoping to reel us in, use us, consume us, and throw away our bones.
because we’re protecting ourselves, and you hate when women protect themselves, because objects don’t do that.
to exist as a woman is to be made an object, and to be made an object is an ever-present violence—a violence of refusal to recognize humanness. a violence of objectness, in which women are in constant danger of losing their autonomy.
“young women reported to undergo an objectifying event (e.g., unwanted body gaze, catcalling, sexual remarks, groping, and sexual gestures) every other day and witness the sexual objectification of others, both through the media and in interpersonal interactions, approximately more than once on a daily basis. such direct and indirect objectifying experiences have consequences that negatively impact women’s self-views4,7,8 and in the long run potentially jeopardize their well-being9,10,11,12.”3
when i read those messages, when an unknown man approached me, dick first, my initial response was to question myself. in my humanness, i asked what was it about me that attracted this encounter. but, no matter what you’re wearing or what you’re doing—if a man views women as objects, as instruments of sexual gratification, he will approach you as if you are available for use. it’s not just an unsolicited dick pic, it’s a sharp, venomous indication that women are not safe around men. because if in their mind i’m an object, the only thing they’re concerned with is how and when to use me.
to exist as a woman is to experience and witness the violence of objectification, daily. to exist as a woman is to be treated as if you are made of plastic, rather than flesh and bone. to exist as a woman is to wonder if you’ll ever be able to exist as a woman.
Pecini, C., Guizzo, F., Bonache, H., Borges-Castells, N., Morera, M. D., & Vaes, J. (2023). Sexual objectification: Advancements and avenues for future research. *Current Opinion in Behavioral Sciences*, *50*, 101261. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cobeha.2023.101261
Pecini, C., Guizzo, F., Bonache, H., Borges-Castells, N., Morera, M. D., & Vaes, J. (2023). Sexual objectification: Advancements and avenues for future research. *Current Opinion in Behavioral Sciences*, *50*, 101261. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cobeha.2023.101261
Vaes, J., Cristoforetti, G., Ruzzante, D. et al. Assessing neural responses towards objectified human targets and objects to identify processes of sexual objectification that go beyond the metaphor. Sci Rep 9, 6699 (2019). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-019-42928-x
This piece has spoken volumes to me as I got back in touch with someone from my past only to be sexualised yet again :’) we can never win, can we? I hate being seen as just a pretty face and body sometimes bc I’m so much more than that. I’m my weird, little self with my crazy, beautiful brain and that’s my true power.
This is such a powerful post. While avoiding the generalization of all men behaving this way, it still proves over and over again that women cannot be safe in the presence of any man so long as men such as this one continues to exist. The amount of times I have been "dressed appropriately" or have been aggressively the opposite in dressing to the "male gaze" I have still gotten 'body looks' and comments made. Despite how we look - the encouraging "leave something to the imagination" has deeply pervaded much of the male population for objectifying to continue regardless of how we look . I have never and will never care for the validation and compliments coming from men, for the exact reason that my mind is far more stunning than any way my body or outfit may look.