what will be...

I'm currently working on a book proposal having to do with the tight lacing movement in corsetry during the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. In sum, this is a form of body modification primarily practiced by women whereby a corset is cinched tighter and tighter over time to reduce the waist size dramatically, the goal usually being somewhere between 16 and 18 inches (from a normal 20-plus size circumference). The reason I'm so fascinated by this process is the psychology attached. The fact that tight lacing was at its peak in practice during the Victorian era when women had very little control over their lives (even less than in previous centuries when at least piano legs weren't covered for fear that they suggested lascivious curves). In all honesty, men didn't have a helluva lot of freedom either, yet, being (usually white) guys, they still had mostly the upper hand.

So what really moves me is how these women found a way to control their body in such a way that it was within respectable bounds—corsets being an expected article of clothing for all women—while still giving a healthy fuck-U to those who would have them conform. Of course the other side of this story is the extremes women would go to in order to stand out in the crowd and be noticed by men—since marriage was still the ultimate expectation of the time. Where i'm going with this is how women lose themselves while still fighting, sometimes to the detriment of their health, for a way to be found on their own terms. As I do the research, i'm reminded of how lucky I am to live in this day and age given my freedom of movement and literal ability to breathe (given that I'm not forcibly laced into a contraption that stops me from taking air fully into my lungs), yet i'm still enraged over and over again when I listen to the debate in Congress about rescinding government funding for Planned Parenthood. Again, ownership? I can't believe this argument is still going on with no signs of it diminishing in ferocity. One of the more telling moments i've come across in my reading is the fact that before the early-twentieth century, doctors paid very little attention to health concerns specific to women. So, for instance, a woman's pregnancy did not begin until she decided that it did, usually when she first felt the baby move. Oftentimes when a woman didn't want to be pregnant and knew that she was because she hadn't gotten her period, it was referred to as a blockage and a tightly laced corset was employed to remove it. (Great information about this in a book called Bound to Please by Leigh Summers.)

Now, this is an awfully brutal way to take control of one's body, and in a time when health care was even less reliable (for different reasons) than it is today, I'm not suggesting this was a positive way to live, but it does speak to the way in which women used what was at hand to control what they could. Pregnancy was not a celebration, but a duty, and sometimes a curse as well, one that often kept them bedridden for months. The thought of a woman experiencing passion of any sort was completely negated with the Victorian view being that a normal female would never get turned on. A classic story of the time: A young English girl asks her mom how she should behave on her wedding night, and is told, "Lie still and think of the empire." Sex as duty. No fun.

Again, I'm reminded of how lucky I am to be here now, when I can spend time not only expressing but celebrating my physicality and sexuality. But I'm also reminded of what a challenge it can still be to own the depths and heights of it. It's an individual journey, not dictated by a man, yet letting myself take that trip can be hard. A seemingly simple assignment in class to bring in song and movement that encompasses love kind of tripped me up this week. I realized how hard it was for me to let go in the emotion, even when invited to do so. A little I felt exposed in front of others (even though they are beyond supportive), mostly I was afraid of how dissolving in the complete luckiness of my situation, moving how I wanted to sounds that reminded me of my love(r) and my own desire were mine to have how I wanted, and it stopped me in my tracks. In a way, emotionally I laced myself up rather tightly, yet still I could feel the cords dangling for me to undo. I know all the knots i've made, it's just a matter of loosening them. The more stories I hear, read and write about women, life, humans and circumstances, the more I see that we are responsible to find our freedom and it can sometimes be more challenging to push against ourselves than against blowhards in congress or strictures in society.

These fine characters (from left: Polaire, Willy, Collette) make an appearance in my book. Notice the tiny, tiny waist on Polaire, who trained her waist down to silly proportions and ostensibly admitted to being the "ugliest" actress in the world, yet who knew her power to manipulate an audience with her fierce personality and performance. she was a bit of a punk rocker in her time, not afraid to show anger, emotion, passion...at least onstage. Though Willy, Collette's husband at the time, thought he had the upper hand in starting her career onstage, she went on to leave him in the dust. And Collette did pretty well without him, too. Breathe.....