Behind the Veil: Our obsession with sexy

It all started when I went dress shopping. It was almost Mid-May, the days were getting hotter and I wanted some nice Summer dresses to wear to keep cool during the next couple of months. I headed to the mall to check out the usual women’s retail stores. I stepped into Forever 21 after seeing their bright colorful display and sign advertising summer attire.

Wearing a hijab sometimes makes it difficult to find clothing tailored to suit my needs. However I usually have no problem layering outfits to customize them to my taste.

After walking around the entire store for half an hour to no avail, I finally approached a sales rep for assistance, “Excuse me, can you help me find some longer dresses?” My inquiry was met with a chirpy, “Sure!” and she led me around the store, color coordinated section by color coordinated section searching for dresses.

Each time we came across a dress, she would pull it off the rack, hold it up to herself and ask for my approval. About 97% of the dresses we found barely covered mid-thigh. After 36 dresses—yes, I was counting—we found one that was knee-length, but still, not long enough for me. The sales clerk began to look a little exasperated. Finally, we located a small rack at the back end of the store that had four maxi-style dresses that were full length. The fact that they were in garish, gaudy colors and prints is besides the point. The more important issue is what the sales girl said to me while I was examining the horrid prints, “You could try this one” She said, while holding up a cheetah print mini, “it would go great with any type of accessories.”

“I’m sorry” I replied, “I don’t wear anything that isn’t full length.”

“But it’s so sexy!” She said with a smile, “It would look great on you!”

“But I don’t want to be sexy,” I responded without even thinking.

“Why..” She began, but then stopped mid-sentence. She shook her head as if she couldn’t grasp what was wrong with me.

There was an awkward pause between us, then she hung the dresses back on the rack, smiled at me, and left.

I stood there for a long while thinking about what had just happened.

I left the store without purchasing anything and thought about what I said to the sales rep on my drive back home. It was true, I did not want to be sexy, at least not for everyone else to see. I resented that I was made to feel weird for not wanting to be a sexual object, and what is our obsession with oozing sex appeal 24/7 anyway? Why must I look sexy for everyone? And why must one look sexy all the time? What is so wrong with looking modest, or decent, or presentable without the sex factor?

A few days later, I was waiting to pick up my brother in my car in front of his school. A parade of middle school children walked past my car to their rides. I had my windows rolled down and I was overhearing tons of conversation. One particular conversation caught my attention, four young girls were speaking animatedly describing outfits they had bought on their shopping trips over the weekend. One girl was gesturing while describing her purchases, “It’s a strapless and it’s cute and short, and I got a blue headband to match it,” she described, illustrating the dress with her hands for her friend. Her friends were all entranced with her description, “That sounds so sexy!” her friend chimed in.

I wondered for a moment, why her friend hadn’t chosen the world “pretty”, or “beautiful” to describe her friend’s dress. Since when did these words get replaced with a variation of the word sex? And of even greater concern, these girls were only in 6th or 7th grade, why were they concerned with sex appeal at age 11?

The girl smiled at her friends compliment, “Yeah, I know!” she said excitedly, and began describing the other things she had bought.

I thought about the dress she had described and it reminded me of my own shopping trip this past weekend. Her description matched all the dresses I had seen, and I understood why her friend chose to compliment with the word “sexy,” it’s because it matched the outfits perfectly. Those outfits were not designed to make a woman look beautiful, or pretty, or lovely, they were designed to make you exude sex appeal and leave little to the imagination.

The conversation taking place between the middle school girls was simply a reflection of our society. A mirror showing us what values we are teaching our future generations. We are teaching our daughters and younger sisters that it is important to be sexual at all times with everything they do, the way they act, the way the dress, and what they say. And it’s no surprise that they are picking up these ideals. Just take a look at the type of women we glorify in our society, Kim Kardashian, for example, whose only claim to fame was the release of her sex tape with an ex-boyfriend, or Paris Hilton, who surprisingly also had a sex tape with an ex-boyfriend. We plaster images of these women in magazines, or on Yahoo’s front page, forcing people to see what they are doing, and what they are wearing at all times. We give these women the limelight, it’s no wonder that the next generation of females is following in their footsteps.

Change comes one person at a time, and I am determined to break this “sexy” cycle by complimenting more women by telling them that they are “beautiful” or “pretty” instead of “hot” or “sexy.” I am starting a beautiful revolution. Justin Timberlake might have brought sexy back, but I’m bringing beautiful back.

The changing face of the news media

The morning of September 11, 2001 I was in my Brooklyn apartment getting ready to go to class and then it happened. The need to be informed as events unfolded that day could not be greater. People turned to any and all available news media to get that information and journalists, reporters, and anchormen valiantly fulfilled their roles as informers.

It was a rare moment of an ideal news mediasphere realized. Sure, there were moments of blatant sentimental storytelling and sensationalism in the media at the time, but we can all recall the solemn, stoic voice of those personalities whom we chose to listen to narrating our collective thoughts and emotions as fellow eyewitnesses to a national tragedy.

With the recent passing of Walter Cronkite, “the most trusted man in America,” a legend from the golden era of news media has passed. News anchors and journalists like Cronkite were synonymous with trust. It was a time when they stuck to the truth, asked the hard questions, and had no qualms with introducing their opinion when it mattered. Some would argue they were often more knowledgeable than even our own politicians in office. Newsmen like Cronkite weren’t interested in policy-making, however. They were more interested presenting accurate and balanced information on the big issues affecting the country.

Compared to the run-up to the Iraq War, the news media often acted more like a PR mouthpiece for the Bush administration than reporting accurate and balanced information. Of all the personalities in contemporary news media, only a small minority were actually questioning the rationale, morality, or legality of preemptive war. Most outlets were relying on polls that showed popular support for the war in 2003 in making a conscious decision to feed and feed upon popular opinion rather than to examine objectively what our leaders were getting us into and on what justifiable evidence.

In 2003, Cronkite, speaking at Drew University and guided by expert knowledge of the political atmosphere surrounding the Vietnam War, openly dissented against popular support for the Iraq War, against overconfident army generals, and an arrogant president. He was one of the few journalists who knew exactly how a government uses deception and manipulation to trump up support for war. The news media is no less a victim than the individual, however unlike the individual the news media has the ability to shift popular opinion and put pressure on our elected leaders to do what is right. In this respect, they failed.

Much of the country, including the news media, could only speak in the past tense when we finally said, “Wait a minute, what exactly did our leaders get us into? Why didn’t we listen to voices of reason?” By then it was too late. We were waist deep.

After all I’ve seen, heard, and read in the news media since 2001, I’ve become a more conscious and selective news consumer. I’ve realized a few things: One, there are no wrong or bad stories in the media as long as it appeals to someone’s intellect and moral or political values; two, most news is biased reflecting on news consumers’ own biases.

There are fundamental divisions in our country and the lines run deeper than ever before. The philosophy of accuracy, balance, and unbiased news was lost to the ideologues on both sides some time ago. The people have taken their sides and their rallying points are who they turn to for their own version of the truth.

Examining racial divides created and made worse by man

Race is a funny word. Man-made, just like everything else we’ve created using our own languages. I believe it is an attempt, at best, to distinguish ourselves from a common genome.

When I was very young, a race was something I saw horses or greyhounds compete in. I grew up in the suburbs of Colorado - hardly a prime suitor for diversity in the 1980s. But, nevertheless, I hardly ever felt like the ugly duckling because of the amount of melanin in my skin or the child that everyone looked at funny because I didn’t physically fit in. Looking back, I’m sure plenty of factors played into this relatively comfortable childhood, particularly the idea that I came from an Asian background. Asians have a very different sort of stereotype associated with them, especially those of the Indian subcontinent.

In my teens, people didn’t look at me and think, “She’ll never make it through middle school” or “I wonder if her parents are crack cocaine addicts”. People looked at me and wondered which Ivy League I’d be attending and how many hours a night I spent studying. And in a funny little way, I began to disapprove. Mostly because I was put on a pedestal I wanted neither to justify nor own. And when I didn’t make Ivy League for college (mostly because I didn’t apply to begin with), people wondered if I was the “special” case among Asian Americans.

It was in freshman year of college that the entire schism between racial groups became very apparent to me.  Prior to this, I didn’t know what “racism”, “white supremacy” or “affirmative action” really were. Of course, I’d studied the Civil Rights movement and gave my allegiances to honorable figures like Martin Luther King, Jr., but they didn’t apply to me. I was neither black nor Hispanic. I came from an immigrant family that specialized in skilled labor and whose parents were sworn in as American citizens when I was in the second grade. Parents who had their Masters degrees from American institutions and who lived a relatively comfortable life.

I may have not personally experienced racism growing up, but that isn’t to say I wasn’t exposed to it. Americans are not the only ones with a long history of racism. It’s a global phenomenon. Many Pakistani Muslims, for example, find Indian Hindus to be inferior, “dirty” and “backwards”. “Monkey worshiping filth”, as one particular individual in my family used to put it. Why this hate? Hinduism and Islam clash historically, politically and religiously. Their followers must, as result, categorize themselves as superior to the other faith in order to justify their own beliefs. This is not to say peaceful coexistence does not exist. But there are a fair share of extremists and racists riddled in the both populaces, some of whom also happen to make-up my family.

This sort of racism also isn’t something to discuss with others. It’s a dinner table conversation, behind closed doors. It is understood, but never publicly acknowledged. Growing up, I found it to be a fascinating paradox that I vicariously lived, through my own parents. They’d smile, make small talk with Hindus and non-Muslims – and then behind closed doors, the hate would fill every corner of every room in the house. At the time, I was too young to realize that what they were engaging in was racism. Thankfully, their words weren’t too impressionable, either.

I did have a personal face-off with racism in the latter years of high school. It stemmed from the ignorant and widespread racism following the 9/11 attacks in 2001. These days, it doesn’t matter if you’re Pakistani, Bengali, Indian or even Sri Lankan – to the ignorant racists in this country, you’re a “terrorist”. In 2002, I was stopped at Bush Intercontinental Airport and subjected to SWAT team interrogations, for absolutely no reason except that my name was Maha. A white Delta employee at check-in was kind enough to report me (for national security’s sake, of course). It’s a very belittling and awful feeling, to be subjected to racism. Suddenly, your personality and your achievements are trashed for your name and what your skin color is. And often times, there isn’t a single thing you can do about it.

But I’ve learned, through attaining my own independence from unfortunate aspects of my bicultural identity, that racism is very much psycho-social. Individuals with racist tendencies have failed, for the most part, to establish their own personal identities. It is easier to elevate one’s ethnic, religious or national background to a higher level over another than to endure deep introspection geared towards understanding and strengthening insecurities surrounding personal identity. At the microcosmic level, this could be controlled. If an individual exhibits racist behavior, he or she can be consequently restrained.

At the macrocosmic, state-level, however, it becomes a rather nasty problem.

Afghanistan’s new “rape” law hinders future growth

Afghanistan is no longer ruled by the Taliban. But a new law that is gaining international criticism aims to carry out the very goals of the country’s stringent past: oppress Afghani women.

Dozens of Shiite Muslim women held demonstrations in Kabul Wednesday protesting this law that allows husbands, among other things, the right to demand sex from their wives.

The law only applies to Afghanistan’s Shiite minority. They represent a mere 20 percent of the country’s 30 million population and not all women, regardless of creed, oppose the law.

The NY Times reported that many believe President Hamid Karzai – who relies on Western support to stay in power – signed the bill into law to gain the conservative support of Shiite clergymen. Karzai is also up for re-election later this year.

Dubbed the “rape law,” the NY Times states:

One provision makes it illegal for a woman to resist her husband’s sexual advances. A second provision requires a husband’s permission for a woman to work outside the home or go to school. And a third makes it illegal for a woman to refuse to “make herself up” or “dress up” if that is what her husband wants.

Also, unless a woman is ill, her husband is specifically allowed to demand sex every four days, according to the Associated Press.

President Barack Obama has called the law “abhorrent” while Britain’s Prime Minister Gordon Brown has refused to provide soldiers to a country that oppresses its women.

Karzai has given in to pressure from the West and promised to send the law to his Ministry of Justice for review.

This law is not about religion anymore. It’s a society’s wrongful approach to women’s rights. It’s about a woman’s right to flourish and give back to her society.

Even if a man didn’t abuse such powers, what would happen if a women refused him?

While women hold positions of power in parliament, this law will only hinder any positive growth Afghanistan faces in the future. If this nation does not allow a crucial part of its society to advance, political maneuvering will once again give way for backward steps of the past.

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Credit: Urmi Rahman, a freelance journalist residing in California. She received her B.A. in political science with minors in English and journalism from Cal State Fullerton. Urmi, 25, is also the editor and co-founder of Minority Dreams Magazine.

National Cleavage Day?

I was going through the pages of Alternet when I came across an article on something I’d never come across before: National Cleavage Day.

The blogger who was writing about this was furious. National Cleavage Day (which took place on April 3rd) was a “holiday” being promoted by Wonderbra as a form of female empowerment.

The Wonderbra website explained the campaign with the following:

WONDERBRA has won a firm victory for social upliftment. Their NCD [National Cleavage Day] Party, whose constant, non-discriminatory support policies assure that both the left and the right remain empowered and uplifted, will now be in effect immediately.It was only through this extensive campaigning for a woman´s right to be wonderful, that NATIONAL CLEAVAGE DAY, on Friday 3rd April 2009, has now been declared a PUBLIC HOLIDAY.

Now, I won’t deny that Wonderbra’s public relations and advertising teams are good with words. That’s not my issue here. They’re paid to make anything sound good.

What I don’t like about this whole campaign is how it attempts to cover up purely commercial interests with flimsy claims of female empowerment. I’m all for a woman’s right to choose what to wear (or not to wear), but the way Wonderbra is using women’s bodies to sell their products completely contradicts what their National Cleavage Day is all about. Women’s movements have long been trying to desexualize the female body in public, and all National Cleavage Day does is promote highly sexualized images of women in the public sphere.

I thought the way the author of the Alternet post presented the issue was rather telling.

I shit you not.

A quote from the sponsor’s spokesperson (Wonderbra’s Samantha Peterson): “It gives women a chance to be beautiful and glow in the furtive, yet appreciative, glances their cleavage evokes from men,” she said.

Male gaze ruled crucial! Film at eleven!

Sigh.

At its core, National Cleavage Day isn’t about female empowerment. It’s just another campaign following the not-so-ancient adage, “sex sells.”

(This article originally appeared at Crisscrossing Borders)

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Credit: Nour Merza, a 21-year-old freelance writer whose family’s globe-trotting tendencies have allowed her writing to be influenced by places as varied as Saudi Arabia, Chicago, Los Angeles and the United Arab Emirates. She also enjoys singing and improving her Arabic. Currently, she’s studying International Relations at the American University of Sharjah.