Fairly Philosophical Friday: Why the word "Sexy" is offensive to some women.

So. I haven't posted anything on this blog for quite some time. You probably haven't even noticed. It's not like I have a huge following or anything. Usually, I don't notice either. But occasionally, I think to myself, "I really should write something on my blog, if for no other reason but to feel important somehow. Sure, I know the chances of me becoming famous for writing a blog is quite slim; most likely I will occupy a tiny corner in the vast net that is the interwebs. But at least I should pretend I'm important. So what am I gonna do about it? I'm going to start an essay series. Wait, are you supposed to use the word "essay" anymore? Okay, it's a "blog" series. It's going to post 10:30 Mountain U.S. time every Friday morning, and I'm going to call it "Fairly Philosophical Friday." I thought about having all the words start with "Ph" or "F," but I thought that might be perceived as uncreative and pompous. And rightly so. And now, without further ado, I present the first installment of "Fairly Philosophical Friday."

A few days ago one of my friends shared a link to a blog post by Kearstin Nicholson titled "Why is the word 'Sexy' offensive to women?" She sounds legitimately perplexed as to why a woman would find "sexy" offensive. Here is my attempt at answering that question, from a thirtysomething white male perspective.

To begin, I don't know Kearstin Nicholson and she doesn't know me (at least I don't think so!). From her blog post and a quick Internet search, I found that she is a cosplayer and model, sometimes of the tasteful nude kind.

On the face of it, I agree 100% with Kearstin. If a woman puts time and effort into making herself look sexually appealing, and that someone tells her how sexually appealing she is, she should very well take that as a compliment, as Kearstin points out. However, the word "sexy" and anything sexual are very loaded with baggage in our culture. Let me explain.

From birth, we are bombarded on a daily basis with sexually charged images and concepts. At some point, probably around puberty, our minds and bodies process those sexually charged ideas as such. But there is a mutually exclusive dichotomy when ever sex is involved.

On the one hand, we are told that sex is fun and cool; that skinny, busty women are hot and muscled, fatless man are handsome. And we do ourselves up in accordance to such cultural brainwashing, especially women. Now, I know those standards of beauty are impossible for most people, but that is the subject of another blog post. For my purpose here, I'm just showing how our culture values sex. I will say that those impossible standards are changing somewhat. Kearstin, for example, models as a geek for a geek audience.

Now back to the topic at hand: On the other hand, we acknowledge this "sexiness" only to a point, and on an arbitrary basis. If a woman's skimpy bikini can't even cover her areolae, or her outer labia is poking through her thong — and showing any part of a man's genitalia is completely out of the question — then it becomes a crisis of gigantic proportions. Seriously. Remember Janet Jackson and her so-called wardrobe malfunction? The cottage industry of punditry had a field day. At some point sex becomes a deeply private and even shameful endeavor which cannot be discussed in polite society lest it corrupt people's minds. Or something.

So we walk around the world with those two mutually opposed ideas: "sexy" is hot; "sexy" is shameful. George Orwell had a word for that: doublethink. When someone dresses, especially a woman, she can pretend that low cut blouse and push-up bra and miniskirt are neutral fashion statements, because we live in an enlightened society after all, where only Neanderthals would be sexually attracted to that. But then she remembers that cute guy she flirted with the last time she wore this outfit. When someone compliments her on how sexy her outfit is, which choice in the doublethink conundrum is she to use? As Kearstin points out, her reaction to "sexy" is often dictated by how she views the person giving the compliment. But the problem isn't really with the person giving the compliment or the person receiving it. The problem lies in the doublethink itself.

What are we to do? To correct the problem, we need to choose one or the other, choose between "sexy is cool" or "sexy is shameful." I personally would rather choose the former. But that would require a radical rethinking for many people. It would require network TV to show tits and pussies and — gasp! — penises and be able to say "fuck" as freely as any other word. It would require nudity to be no big deal and clothing only necessary for warmth, comfort, or practicality. And sex, of course, would be no more offensive than eating. But that, alas, is a pipe dream.

So, Ms. Kearstin Nicholson, you probably would be comfortable with all that in the above paragraph, but many are not. And as long as they continue to use doublethink to navigate which version of "sexy" they desire, they will continue to be offended by the word.