The other day, while lurking on Instagram, I happened upon a series of stories where women shared why they avoided the gym.
There were so many versions of the same experiences. There were women who felt uncomfortable being watched by or compared to men while they worked out, discomfort with unasked for coaching from men (thank god it’s not just me), and self-consciousness about how their bodies look in workout clothes or while doing various movements.
It was a conversation that I crave more of. As a female person who has FEELINGS about gym culture and is committed to overcoming fatphobia and internalized misogyny (Health at Every Size and The Body is Not an Apology are essential readings) while making photos of people in fitness-oriented spaces as one facet of my work, this feels like an essential conversation. There is clearly still more work to do to make spaces where women can move freely and unburdened by the male gaze.
Less than a day later, I found myself listening to a totally separate conversation with another photographer. She said something about how the camera represents the male gaze. As in, when being photographed, there can be discomfort in the experience for women because we are used to and expect the camera to show us something that is admired by or created for the pleasure of men. Culturally and historically, camera work, in both motion and stills, has been done by men so the standards were also mostly created by men. And if you don’t fit that mold of desirability, of course you feel like the experience highlights the ways that you’re all wrong. This caught my attention because it felt true, but I’d never thought of it that way before. (A google search tells me this is a theory that was published in the 1970s by feminist film theorist Linda Mulvey.)
Something in this conversation moves me. I feel invisible companionship with the women who share their stories of participating in spaces that are ignorant of the effects of the male gaze. Their stories validate some of my own experiences. And in some of those situations, I assumed I was the problem, which made it really uncomfortable to speak up, especially to the men in charge. Or the realization that maybe my uncertainty around making what I want to make is connected to how difficult it is to get away from objectifying bodies, including my own. The objectification of my body started around the time I was five or six, and I’m still learning how deep it runs. I wonder if I’ve ever actually known what I want or if much of it is based on a standard of beauty that was never mine to begin with. My eyes feel opened the idea that there’s something else available to guide the photos I make that isn’t a male standard of desire or pleasure or objectification. Energy and emotion and connection feel like good places to start.
The work that I feel most excited about creating is that which allows women to see something they love in themselves. Whether that looks like something you’ve created that you feel proud of, or looking at yourself and seeing a person you care deeply for, what matters most is that you see something YOU like. That it empowers you to believe that the way you show up in the world is valuable and worthy and deserving. It shows you owning your power and embracing your freedom and unapologetically taking up all of the space you want to in the wide, wild world.