Bra Wars

Introduction

She should hide her breasts.

Why is she trying so hard to attract men?

Her nipples are showing; that’s so indecent.

She’s such a prick-tease. She’s begging to be raped.

Upsetting, isn’t it? Hearing these comments is as disturbing as reading in the news that 20% of French people still believe that visible nipples could justify men assaulting women.¹ Bras have always been a subject of debate, used to entice, support, eroticise, or only worn for comfort. Still, women’s breasts have rarely been free from the constraint of having to be moulded or padded. For decades, they have been considered sexual in Western countries and are now highly regulated body parts.² In this book, a central concept explored is ‘decency,’ which is frequently linked to femininity and nudity.³ It is a term often used in hushed tones when people observe a woman revealing too much skin. ‘Decency’ serves as the foundation for defining which parts of women’s bodies are deemed acceptable to expose.

While dress codes apply to all genders, there have been, historically, many more concerns and control over female clothing choices.⁴ In other words, ‘decency’ regulates women to ensure they display their bodies without causing scandal.⁵ You have undoubtedly heard it at least once: ‘What will people think if she wears that? That she doesn’t respect herself.’ You might even have said it yourself or looked at your reflection in the mirror and thought, ‘I should get changed; people will think I am a slut.’ Yet, what you did not know that day is here; these thoughts were the product of decency norms. They are repeated so often in women’s environments that they infiltrate how we think, perceive, act, and judge.

Researchers have worked on how breasts or lingerie became sexual, but none truly worked on the relationship between the two. Therefore, my research aims to enlarge the scope of knowledge in gender studies on this matter. Moreover, my research is based in France, which is a country where gender studies are not entirely accepted yet.⁶ France is often described as a country with a liberal attitude towards sexuality and nudity, sometimes perceived as an ‘erotic’ nation.⁷ This led me to delve into the question of whether its reputation as a ‘sexually liberated’ country truly embodies absolute freedom or if it is merely a façade concealing the continued oppression and objectification of women. This research also aims to raise awareness of women’s oppression through underwear. My work might help people be more aware of their own internalised decency – see below – and, therefore, allow women’s bodies to be less regulated. Although I focus on French women, the scope of this book goes beyond France. As you read through these pages, you may recognise some of the experiences I describe and think, ‘Yes, I’ve felt that too.’ Sadly, the truth is that most women in Western countries, and many more across the world, have encountered the decency norms that I address in this book – albeit with some variations. This global issue affects patriarchal societies everywhere, so even if you are not French or particularly interested in French culture, I believe you will find this book relevant and relatable.