{"id":6474,"date":"2011-07-14T09:00:13","date_gmt":"2011-07-14T08:00:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.badreputation.org.uk\/?p=6474"},"modified":"2011-07-14T09:00:13","modified_gmt":"2011-07-14T08:00:13","slug":"on-getting-hurt-and-being-pretty","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/badreputation.org.uk\/2011\/07\/14\/on-getting-hurt-and-being-pretty\/","title":{"rendered":"On Getting Hurt and Being ‘Pretty’"},"content":{"rendered":"
I have an ambition – I want to join the London Rollergirls<\/a>. I’ve got my skates, I’ve got my tiny shorts and my fishnet tights, but some of the safety gear did give me pause for thought. Kneepads, elbow pads, wristguards, a boil ‘n’ bite mouthguard, and my old purple cycling helmet wasn’t allowed: no, I needed a heavy-duty ‘skating helmet’.<\/p>\n
<\/a>When you’re biting down on a piece of hot plastic you boiled in
a saucepan, making sure to follow the instructions to the letter, carefully
pressing the chewy, artificial tasting stuff around each of your teeth in
turn, it’s hard not to wonder,
what if I get hurt?<\/em><\/p>\n
What if you get hurt?<\/em> asked my mother, when I told her. My mother
and I have an arrangement. She’s had both hips replaced; I’m
allowed to tell her to
slow down <\/em>and
be careful<\/em>, and
don’t start climbing up ladders and repainting your
bathroom when you’re supposed to be recovering from major
surgery<\/em>. In return she’s the only person in the world
allowed to tell me not to walk down dark big city streets alone at
night, without getting a lecture on third wave feminism. We live
in different cities. We worry about each other. I find myself
filled with filial guilt that starting roller derby will worry my
mother.<\/p>\n
My dad was a boxer, as was his dad, and his dad before him. My
great granddad was, apparently, a boxer who boxed illegally on
the streets of Liverpool. Made a good living from it, I hear. My
granddad\u2019s house was full of my dad’s boxing
trophies, and my dad would point at professional boxers on our
TV and claim to have fought them in his youth. I have no doubt
that, were I a boy, I would have been encouraged to be a boxer
too.<\/p>\n
<\/a>I also have no doubt that,
because I was a girl, I wasn’t. My suspicions are
corroborated by the appeals to my vanity which came from both
parents when I suggested the possibility. “But
you’re so pretty,” they said. “Don’t you
want to look pretty?” I did want to look pretty, I agreed.
Even my heroes Jean Grey and Catwoman looked pretty when they
were kicking ass; I didn’t want to lose that.1<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n
When, as a child, my nose was broken in a non-boxing related
incident, I was as terrified as my parents that I would have
a ‘boxer’s nose’. It’s still a bit
weird-looking, to be honest.<\/p>\n
I cracked a tooth last year. In a restaurant. At a business
meeting. I played it cool, got drunk, laughed about it (even
when one of the authors I was with tweeted about it), then
got home, saw the big black gap where my front tooth should
have been in the mirror and cried and cried! Could barely
smile at my own boyfriend for the two weeks it took to get a
false tooth put in.2<\/a><\/sup> I cannot begin to imagine what
a blow to your self-esteem real, serious external injuries
can be. Burns, scars, facial disfigurement. Charities such
as Changing
Faces<\/a> are doing a lot to combat this stigma, but as a
society we’re not there yet.<\/p>\n
There is nothing wrong with wanting your child to be
pretty \u2013 \u2018pretty\u2019 or at least
\u2018conventional-looking\u2019 people have an easier
life, in lots of respects. There is nothing wrong with
wanting, yourself, to be \u2018pretty\u2019. (Common
misconception about feminists, that.)<\/p>\n
Technically, my false tooth was cosmetic surgery. Not
life-threatening, not a source of pain when the old
tooth is gone completely, not a medical condition. But I
damn well wanted that cosmetic surgery. And there was
small difference between me having that done, and an
older woman replacing what she’s lost by having
botox on her forehead. I don’t think I’d
ever have botox, but I’m not going to condemn
anyone for wanting it. How could I, as some magazines
do, laugh at the \u2018false\u2019 breasts of an actress
when part of me, when a part of my appeal (my smile) is
false?<\/p>\n
However, none of this changes the fact that society
still finds it much easier to deal with men getting hurt
than with women getting hurt.<\/p>\n
I once had a conversation with a very sincere
ex-co-worker about how when they’re talking about
British soldiers on the news, if a woman soldier has
died or been injured, it makes him furious. Angry that
girls are allowed to go to war, angry that her family
let her, angry that she wanted to go. He doesn\u2019t
have the same reaction to male soldiers. Historically
and even now, the reaction of men to the death and
injury of female soldiers is used
as a reason why women shouldn’t go to war.<\/a>
(Which seems like such utterly backwards logic to me. If
the men can’t deal with it, aren’t they the
problem?) In the UK, among many other things
they\u2019re not allowed to do in the military, women
still can’t fight on the front line.<\/a> So much
for equality in the workplace, I guess.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s understandable, if you look at the messages
we\u2019re fed every day. Don\u2019t hit girls, save
girls from danger – that\u2019s the message pop
culture gives us. So what does the hero do, if the
girl\u2019s willingly putting herself in danger? Get
angry, as above, or try to persuade her
otherwise?<\/p>\n
If you\u2019re a woman and you want to do something
dangerous, you will meet with resistance to the idea.
This resistance might come from a well-meaning place,
from those who love you, it may even come from inside
you. It’s okay to listen, but it can be useful to
interrogate how your gender plays a role in the
dialogue.<\/p>\n