I’m sad to say, that from Kim Kardashian’s baby bump fashion faux pas to Ex Australian PM Julia Gillard being berated for flashing too much cleavage, it seems pretty hard for a woman to get away from her body – or people’s opinions of her body. Living in such an image based world and being constantly subjected to messages from the mass media, I often used to find myself feeling that my body wasn’t really mine; like it was for other people, and other people’s enjoyment.
Then I got my first tattoo, and it all changed. I got inked for the first time on my 17th birthday, and was immediately hooked! Tattoos are the calling card of my generation with 1 in 3 people aged 16-25 sporting some art. And although they’re becoming more and more commonplace, there is still a fair amount of disapproval when it comes to heavily inked women – proven by the people who feel the need to come up to me and comment on mine. This tends to go one of two ways:
Person: "Wow, you have a lot of tattoos."
Me: "Yeah, I do. I think I have about nine now."
Person: "That’s so cool. I’ve always loved/wanted/admired/etc. tattoos."
Me: "Thanks!"
OR…
Person: "Wow, you have a lot of tattoos."
Me: "Yeah, I do. I think I have about nine now."
Person: "I really dislike tattoos, especially on women. I think they’re disgusting/unladylike/vulgar/etc."
Me: "…Thanks?"
I never really know how to react to the negative comments, and I have never understood why anyone feels the need to tell me what they think of my tattoos. In all honesty, I don’t really care what they think! And do you know why? Because my tattoos are for me and no one else! They make my body look how I want and how I like, regardless of what anyone else thinks of it. Every time I get a tattoo, it almost feels like reclaiming my body as my own.
Another aspect of my appearance that often gets interesting reactions is my hair. I have short hair. Very. Short. Hair. I have a traditional man’s haircut. What can I say? I’m a short-back-and-sides kind of a girl! I chopped my hair of at the beginning of 2013, and goodness me, I am NEVER going back to having long hair again! Funnily enough though, it does seem to confuse people slightly. Long, luscious, flowing locks are associated with sex appeal – so if I have short hair, I must not want to be sexy, right? Or it must mean I’m gay, (I was once asked by a comedy promoter if the reason I wear my hair short so that lesbians can identify me – true story) right? Or it must mean I’m actively avoiding male attention, right? No, no, and no (well, sometimes for the last one).
I cut my hair just before I started doing stand-up comedy, and this was no mistake. I felt that I wouldn’t be able to talk about what I wanted, the way I wanted and be taken seriously if I looked ‘girly’. And for me ‘girly’ meant long hair. Realistically, I don’t think it would make that much difference to an audience if my hair is shorn short or shoulder length, but for me, cutting my hair off was completely liberating. It was a big ‘f*** you, I don’t care what you think of me’ and that feeling of empowerment is what allowed me to get up on stage and do my first stand-up gig in the first place.
I do think, however, that appearance is important in stand-up (regardless of gender). What you look like effects how the audience perceives the material you perform. I am fully aware that I do not look like the ideal of feminine beauty. I do not look, or try to look like the lovely ladies on magazine covers. I do not look like the women that people are used to objectifying, and the thing that really seems to baffle people is that I don’t want to! It’s hard to judge who I am just by looking at me. To figure out who I am they need to listen to what I say, and by the time they’ve judged me I’ve (hopefully) managed to make them laugh.
Emily Snee (pictured) is a stand up comedian and writer. You can follow her on Twitter HERE and visit her website HERE.
