Not An Object

I arch my back, looking coyly over my shoulder at my webcam as I tug at the sides of my black lace panty. On the other side of the screen, on the other side of the Atlantic, an unknown man seeking refuge in his workplace bathroom is paying 9$ a minute to watch me shimmy out of my bra and panties as I encourage him to swallow his own semen. As I watch the seconds tick by on the timer, I admire the smoothness of my body reflecting back at me on the screen. I contemplate what I’ll make for dinner after this show. In my best bedroom voice I murmur what a dirty, dirty boy he is, coaxing him to orgasm. My stomach growls. The words “thanks beautiful!” appear on the screen and I am notified that he has disconnected. He got what he wanted: sexual release; and I got what I wanted: money. Depending on whom you ask this either makes me an empowered bad-ass, or a sorry victim of the patriarchy. Or worse, I’m perpetuating a system that is harmful to women.

Female empowerment and so-called “self-objectification” are the topics du jour in the wake of Emily Ratajkowski’s recently published book of essays, My Body. The question she raised, which has proved divisive on social media: can the use of one’s sexuality and image for capital gain truly empower women? Many women, from the likes of 1960’s activist Martha P. Johnson to current day Kim Kardashian, have used the male gaze as a bargaining chip to secure financial or social power – or to simply survive. Still, others argue that selling nudes on OnlyFans or gyrating topless in a music video only perpetuates the objectification of women under a false-flag of empowerment. Our social climate is changing, however. Evolving conversations around sexuality and women’s rights expand beyond the Twittersphere, sparking tangible change. Even under the oppressive male gaze, an increasing number of women are bucking the antiquated Madonna-whore complex and demanding respect.

The term “self-objectification” is inherently flawed. A woman who consciously uses her own image and sexuality on her own terms is an active agent in her own destiny- a far cry from a helpless object. When I tell people how I moved from New York City to Paris, they usually assume I moved for school, a job, or a boyfriend. The answer is none of the above. Put simply, the freedom and flexibility of my job as a cam model made it possible. So I did it.  So-called “self-objectification” allows me to travel, finance my master’s degree program, and set my own work schedule and boundaries with clients. While I don’t claim that my experience is universal, it isn’t singular. Rapper and self-proclaimed feminist Cardi B, much like her predecessors Madonna and Lil Kim, is known for her unabashed sexual openness. She speaks candidly of her past gig as a stripper, which began as a desperate measure to escape poverty and domestic violence. And to anyone who tries to shame her for it, she proudly holds up her rhinestone-encrusted, acrylic-tipped middle finger. Cardi B’s refusal to renounce her sex worker past is shocking because it challenges the dichotomy between sexuality and respectability, a dichotomy that serves as a mechanism for the objectification and subsequent disenfranchisement of women. Her success is both an active agent in and evidence of changing attitudes.

Still, some are quick to mention that women are pressured from a young age to appeal to an omnipresent male gaze, while being consequently blamed for succumbing to it. The direct link between my privilege as a white woman who more or less fits the Western standards of beauty, and the number on my weekly paycheck isn’t lost on me, either. In her essay, Blurred Lines, Emily Ratajkowski notes that although prancing around topless for Robin Thicke’s music video in 2013 felt fun and empowering, she recognizes that it was the men in the room who ultimately called the shots. And the stark reality is that for many women, particularly those of marginalized communities, self-sexualization is a means of survival, not an empowered and informed choice. Cardi B’s rags-to-riches tale, and that of Kim Kardashian, who went from supposed reality-TV-bimbo with a sex tape to a billionaire who successfully lobbied the POTUS for prison-reform are far from ubiquitous. Not every woman can or wants to supplement her 9-5 job with OnlyFans, and for most women, a leaked sex-tape will likely harm rather than advance their career.

Is cashing in on the male gaze empowering? To borrow the words of Emily and Kim: “it’s complicated.” One thing is for sure: We are witnessing the slow degradation of the misogynistic moral standards that make it disempowering. The proliferation of sex-positive feminism is a direct backlash to society’s division of women into two categories: sexual objects or respectable human beings. For those who say rubbing coconut oil on my breasts for money on the internet as I undulate to Cocteau Twins isn’t empowerment — they’re only half wrong. For me, empowerment is living on my own terms; it’s refusing to bend to society’s idea of how a respectable woman ought to behave; it’s penning this essay under my real name for future employers to potentially find. By adding nuance to the conversation, we’re breaking down stigmas, paving the way for increased rights, autonomy, and ultimately — empowerment.