The Profit Behind Body Insecurity

Capitalism and Patriarchy: Understanding that Body Insecurity Generates Profit

Every single woman I have ever met has been, at some point in their life, dissatisfied with how they look. It is the script women are given, the rhetoric we are sold, the world over. “I look so fat in this dress” is a mantra, no matter which language it is spoken in, that should be hung in every kitchen next to ‘Live Laugh Love’ as one of the most overused, and unappealing, phrases of all time. The sadness comes in the fact that pretty much every woman who has said it has looked fucking incredible in that dress, and would probably have said it whatever size or shape they were. And it is that exact feeling, of never being quite good enough, that has been capitalised on by multi-million-dollar businesses across the globe.

Being a woman comes with an intrinsic link between your identity and your body, arguably more so than for men. From the drops of blood in our underwear; to the contraception we take that alters out entire hormonal balance; to the life-altering risks of heterosexual sex; to the fact that when we’re around twelve years old two HUGE FAT BALLS start growing out our chest as we gain a whole new body part, our bodies demand quite a lot of attention.

We are forced to spend a lot of time making sure our body is not going to grow a baby; or trying to make sure our body does grow a baby; or wondering whether it’s okay to want/not want our body to grow a baby. It’s certainly a lot to think about, and comes with high levels of stress, and an ultra-awareness of our bodies that may contribute to a higher likelihood of body insecurity. But, actually, I think such a close link to our physical being has the potential to go both ways, and could, in an alternate reality, have resulted in a female sex with a much better relationship with their bodies. The capacity to create life is incredible, despite the risks that come with it, and even for women who don’t want children, the constant attention to your body could foster a relationship of appreciation and love. So why has the opposite happened? Instead of loving our bodies, why do we live in a world where 90% of British adults feel body image anxiety?[1]

The answer to this is obviously complex, but blame can be generated towards two key players: capitalism and patriarchy. These concepts are so inextricably linked, and reliant on each other, they’re like that inseparable couple who’ve been together so long you can’t imagine one existing without the other. And when they kiss in public it’s really gross. Because, when capitalism and patriarchy come together, it’s definitely not pretty.

Dissatisfaction lies at the root of capitalism. Consumerism thrives off the notion that none of us ever own enough, buy enough, are enough. There is much more profit to be made in millions of women feeling like they need to buy disposable pink razors each month to keep their legs hairless, than there is in them all saying “fuck it I love having cosy legs”’ and putting that money into a savings account to help them walk out on their shitty husbands later in life. Advertising within the industries of fashion and beauty that, let’s be honest, is largely targeted at women, encourages constant comparison, and constant dissatisfaction in yourself as a result. As we’ve gradually numbed to, and started to vocally critique, these problematic adverts, they have taken a more insidious form. Influencers in skin-tight Gym Shark leggings can promote a Puregym membership, the Chilly’s bottle they’re holding and their impossibly thin stomach in one well-filtered square. Placed strategically between motivational feminist quotes from Michelle Obama and aesthetically pleasing brunches, these kinds of adverts are much more effective.

Much like it did with feminism and veganism, capitalism has jumped onto the band-wagon of body insecurity. Most of us are aware, on some level, of the futility of our consumerist habits to try and make us feel happier in our skin. I know I’m guilty of looking at old pictures of myself and lusting after my marginally slimmer waist or thighs, knowing full well that at the time the picture was taken I felt every bit as rubbish and insecure about them as I do now. Even as an educated, self-aware woman versed in feminism, surrounded by supportive and beautiful friends of all different body types, with a boyfriend who showers me with compliments, I still hate my body. I understand that rom-com leads promote unrealistic body standards and that probably no-one but me cares if there’s some squishy fat above my jean line. But this does very little to stop me crying in Topshop changing rooms when size eight dresses don’t fit me and spending silly amounts of my student loan on beauty products that I hope will up my confidence.

Even though I know my friends like my body, my family likes my body, my boyfriend likes my body, none of this has incentivised me to like it myself. But one of the things that has really, truly made me want to reconsider my relationship with how I look is understanding how insidiously these feelings of insecurity have been capitalised upon. Businesses favour women who are insecure in their bodies because it helps keep them perpetually trapped in a place of economic insecurity. Bodily dissatisfaction increases women’s spending as consumers. We buy more clothes, make-up, hair products etc. than our male counterparts. This contributes to increased dependency on male partners within heterosexual relationships, which in turn increases the need for women to alter their body to satisfy the male gaze, as they become more reliant on men for economic security. This then leads to increased spending in these areas and hence perpetuates this toxic, patriarchal cycle. Businesses profit, patriarchy blossoms, and women are left feeling even more shit about the way they look.

As I’m growing up and thinking more carefully about where I spend my money, I’ve found myself trapped very definitely in this cycle. I notice spending habits that seem impossibly hard to break, despite how much I really, really want to. My relationship with the fashion industry is amongst the most toxic and damaging I’ve ever had. Years of cheesy movies with ‘shopaholic’ protagonists, flicking through my mum’s discarded fashion magazines and watching Asos hauls on YouTube has given me a lust for fast fashion that’s very difficult to kill.

The fashion industry has been in the firing line for perpetuating unrealistic body types for years. Mainstream shops are filled with mannequins with tiny waists and perky boobs in real life, and models lacking sorely in realistic bodies online. But even more problematic is the entire concept of seasonal fashion. Constantly changing trends mean that the few styles of clothing that fit your unique body type, and make you feel confident, are much less likely to be ‘in fashion’. I’ve found myself abandoning the high waisted jeans that safely tuck away my tummy for flares that make me increasingly self-conscious of my legs. I’ve squeezed into unflattering dresses that I’ve had to spend an entire party re-adjusting, when I could have been dancing with my friends, in the name of ‘fitting in’. Not to mention the huge ethical problems within the industry, abusing and underpaying a sweat-shop workforce and raising emissions through vast over-consumerism. Luckily for us, women are also disproportionately affected by the climate emergency[2] and much more likely to be the ones working in that sweatshops that make these garments[3]. The fashion industry is killing the planet and body confidence in one fell swoop. And my money is directly contributing to this.

Similar criticism can be directed towards the beauty industry. The entire conception of make-up as almost exclusively for females is fucked up in itself. Pressure to hide blemishes under foundation, and to highlight sexual body parts like our lips, obviously breeds insecurity, and the notion of looking good for others (specifically for the men that can provide us with the economic security we need when we’ve spent all our money on lipstick). The epitome of this comes from the entire notion of ‘anti-ageing’ products for females alone. The fear of bodily age is amplified in women, whose bodies lose social value after reproductive age, when they can no longer be sexualised. Whilst men age into silver foxes, sugar daddies and bachelors, women become hags, witches and spinsters. Products that promise to smooth away wrinkles and remove stretch marks perpetuate ideas that the female body loses beauty with age rather than gains it. Obviously, this industry is also under huge criticism for its cruel treatment of animals and extortionate use of plastic and harmful chemicals. Maybe mother nature is metaphorically female because she’s so badly damaged by the same industries hurting us real, human women today.

Profit is even generated by female body insecurity in less blatantly gender-dominated areas of shopping. Even in bath and shower supermarket aisles, rows of expensive pink razors encourage women to shave every inch of hair off their body, to match with pornified ideas of beauty. Products promising to remove vaginal odour, and give you a rose scented-pussy, sit tauntingly on shelves that make you wonder “is it meant to smell like that?!”, and stop you enjoying the glorious feeling of being licked out without feeling like you have to spend even more money first. Narratives of female sexual pleasure are virtually non-existent. Every sex-scene in a film shows a woman orgasming from penetrative sex, when only a fifth of us actually can[4], porn is predominantly created for heterosexual male viewers and even high-school sex-ed often only ever discusses the male orgasm. These attitudes raise women lacking sexual empowerment, more likely to think that sex is something they have to give to men, rather than a mutually pleasurable experience to share with whoever the fuck they want. This leads to a higher likelihood of us feeling the need to buy miniscule lace thongs and pay to have every hair on our vulva removed, just to feel comfortable during sex.

The antithesis to these toxic consumerist mantras is feminism. Recent waves of intersectional and sex-positive feminists have started to embrace different body types, skin tones and sexualities amongst women. And it’s beautiful. However, even these empowering messages about body positivity are not immune from the clutches of capitalism.

We are living in an age of superficial ‘self-care’, a term shrouded in economic falsity and pressure. ‘LOVE YOURSELF’ is aggressively plastered onto Topshop t-shirts in sizes so small you can do anything but. Clothing companies have jumped onto the ‘one-size-fits-all’ bandwagon, where one size fits no-one and everyone feels insecure. From the photoshopped stretch marks on size six models to the stacks of self-help books in Urban Outfitters, loving your body is no longer a radical, feminist act but a demand from the big businesses who perpetuate the body insecurity in the first place. Without promoting radical conspiracies, surely products aiming to improve your ‘self-love’ rely on a lack of it to profit. There is a business incentive for such companies to generate body insecurity, and then offer motivational slogan tees and glowy face masks as the remedy.

Suddenly, women have found themselves not just hating their bodies, but hating themselves for hating it. Years of being trapped in a cacophony of body hating language - from friends, strangers, movies- cannot be erased overnight. Where there was once a sad, solidarity in saying “I look so fat in this dress”, now even this is met with a sense of guilt and shame. “But you’re so thin!”, “If you hate your body how am I supposed to feel?!”, “Just love yourself, all bodies are beautiful”, “That’s not feminist!”. These are all reactions elicited from expressing feelings of body insecurity. Whilst the sentiments are honourable, this change in attitude has come about far too fast. We cannot expect women to hate their bodies one minute and love them the next, especially when social attitudes have not caught up with this burgeoning rhetoric.

We still live in a culture that is extremely fatphobic (see the recent celebrations of Adele’s weight loss[5]), has extremely non-diverse representation of body types and that functions under a patriarchy that objectifies and sexualises women, keeping them in a place of economic insecurity. The pressure to love your body is no better than the pressure to be thin. It results in stockpiling bath bombs and self-help books and feeling guilty that you still have panic attacks over the stretch marks you’re suddenly expected to think are beautiful. It creates a guilt around wanting to lose weight, around exercising and most importantly around talking to friends and family about feelings of body insecurity.

I have found social-isolation due to Covid-19 has exacerbated and highlighted these issues for me. I am, like so many others, exercising less than before, feeling more anxious, and eating more food. I have, inevitably, gained some weight. However, I have also been seeing less people, shopping much less and never having to squeeze into mini-skirts and go clubbing. This has given me time to sit with my body and think. To write this article and delve into just how problematic our social conversations are around women’s bodies. Realising how body insecurity is blatantly capitalised on has been the biggest incentive for me to re-evaluate my relationship with my body and re-build it on my own terms. It has also given me some relief from the increasing guilt I feel around NOT loving my body. I’ve realised that it’s okay to think you look fucking sexy and it’s also okay to hate the rolls of fat on your stomach- and in fact you can often do both simultaneously (us women and our magical multi-tasking!).

I’ve realised that I love shaving my vulva and hate shaving my legs. I love having shiny, pink eyelids but don’t care what shoes I wear. I feel sexy in lacey underwear but couldn’t give a shit about plucking my eyebrows. And yes, some of the things that make me feel good might stem from problematic patriarchal expectations. I’m aware that I wouldn’t feel empowered by a hairless pussy if I hadn’t grown up in the age of internet porn. But it’s too much pressure to expect women to be able to completely escape from the messages we’ve been inundated with our whole lives. Take time to think about what makes you feel good, and what doesn’t, regardless of how feminist those decisions feel. Because making those choices are bold, feminist moves in themselves.

Proper self-care does not come in face masks, motivational Urban Outfitters bath matts or Chilly’s bottles full of smoothies. It comes from doing the things that make you feel at peace with yourself and your body, and most of the time these don’t cost much money. I’ve discovered that, for me, self-care is about long walks, good sleeps, not feeling guilty about eating food, having a cry about my body, masturbation, drinking water and talking to other women about what I’m feeling (including my very cool therapist!). Your list will look different, but it’s not something you can buy, it’s something you can choose.

It’s been so interesting to realise that the pressures to look and feel certain ways almost always come from people with economic incentives, and that you can’t fully separate yourself from those systems. As you reconsider problematic relationships with fashion, consumerism and body image, try not to internalise too much guilt. These systems have been cleverly designed to make you feel shit!

Fill your Instagram feed with diverse bodies, talk to people who won’t tear you down, sleep with people you know would embrace your pubes and fat rolls (even if you choose not to have them at the moment.). Know deep down that your body is beautiful, but that it’s okay not to feel like it is, and that doesn’t make you any less of a feminist. And when things are really bad, try to remember how amazing the female body is. We have been gifted with the only organ wholly designed for pleasure (clitoris appreciation![6]), the ability to LITERALLY GROW A HUMAN INSIDE OF IT, and two huge balls of fat to squish as some built in stress-balls during these crazy, isolated times.

[1] https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2012/jun/10/body-image-anxiety-eva-wiseman [2] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-43294221 [3] https://waronwant.org/sweatshops-bangladesh [4] How to Have Feminist Sex- Flo Perry [5] https://www.mirror.co.uk/3am/celebrity-news/adeles-weight-loss-transformation-leaves-21992899 [6] https://health.howstuffworks.com/sexual-health/female-reproductive-system/clitoris-dictionary1.htm