Broken Corset

Just imagine, it’s been one of THOSE mornings…  you know, the kind we’ve all had where one of your children spilled the milk all over the breakfast table, and the next one added the cereal to the floor.  The blouse you were going to wear for work didn’t get ironed, and the skirt has a stain on it.  Somehow, miraculously, you’ve managed to get everyone into the car with a few minutes to spare- and though you’re afraid that you may have left the curling iron on, at this point, you’re thinking, “I guess that’s what insurance is for.”  Then you see it…  the coffee stand up ahead – the little jolt of caffeine that will help you restart your day, and put your next foot forward – happier.  “Espresso Gone Wild” the sign says, and as you pull the car full of kids into the line, you think… “Exactly what I need, a seriously wild shot of espresso.” 

Unfortunately, as you pull up to the window (remember, WITH your children) you realize that there is also a view of some amazing pasties. No, not the pastry that could so well accompany your coffee, but pasties…  you know about these I’m sure, because in your busy life you have time and energy for fun sexual experimentation at home -  they are the cute little stickers that cover up the areola and nipple – and these particular ones are on a very robust bust.  As your mouth falls open, you hear a voice from the back of your car which belongs to your youngest, who is asking, “Mommy, why aren’t these people wearing any clothes?”

Welcome to Belfair, Washington, a small, unincorporated community whose population is estimated around 700.  Belfair has one main street through the commercial area of town, with few stoplights and more than their share of coffee stands.  Espresso Gone Wild opened in view of the main thoroughfare, and partially due to the effort of concerned citizens, has been forced to exchange the baristas’ pasties for the skimpiest of bathing suits.  But Espresso Gone Wild, Belfair is not the only coffee establishment bursting onto this bare new world, apparently many other chains will have baristas braving wintery weather in their birthday “attire.”

As my Belfair resident relative related the story of Espresso Gone Wild, I realized that there is a connection to something going on in my own life.  My husband is preparing to depart for the last bachelor party he will ever attend (yes, by the word “last” it is fair of you to intuit that it has been quite a negotiation).   Though I agreed to his attendance at this event, despite the fact that it’s out of the country, on my birthday, and a cultural practice l abhor –  (Yes, that is how important this particular bachelor’s long term friendship is to both of us), I remain quite disturbed by the entire engagement.  As I berate myself for even agreeing in the first place, I have to think, these two things are related.

See – I am one hundred percent behind the First Amendment, behind freedom of speech, your right to say what you wish, believe what you will, practice the religion of your choice and spend your money how you choose.  In fact, I would probably lean toward legalizing prostitution, drugs, and maybe even polygamy.  As long as Espresso Gone Wild is complying with the local codes, I believe they have as much right to do business in Belfair as the local citizens have to organize and oppose it.  And yet, I think we’re missing something in society, and while it surrounds us on a daily basis in many different forms, it is perhaps best exemplified by the cultural practice of the bachelor party.

The bachelor party.  Traditionally, the night before a couple joins their lives together, pledging to love, honor, and respect one another “until death do us part,” it is common practice to go out and do the exact opposite.  Rather than honor the woman with whom the groom will share the alter, he traditionally goes out with his buddies and participates in an evening that contributes to the objectification and devaluing of women.  Despite the generally held belief that the groom has been a faithful partner in the relationship leading up to this one night, for this night, there is a complete suspension of morality — and viewing, touching and treating women as simple sex objects is not only expected, but celebrated.  Most women accept this as tradition, and some even take part in a similarly styled evening themselves. 

Whenever I bring up my objection to the paradox of the two events and the inconsistent messages they together convey about the fledgling new marriage, I am widely regarded with rolling eyes.  “But it’s really just a chance for a guy to be with his buddies,” or  “There is just a basic biological difference in the sexuality of men,” or “You’re really making so much out of nothing,” or “It’s not about respect, it’s about fun.”

No, I’m sorry.  It’s not just a chance for men to hang out.  If it was just that, there’d be no need to include the strip joint.  There may be a basic difference in the way men and women view sex/physical attraction, but even if so, that doesn’t give men the right to objectify women… and what are men anyway?  Pure animal, no mind control at all – not even for their most beloved???  And you know what, I think there is something to be made out of all of this, and it is about respect.

Rooted in our society is some idea that it is okay to objectify women.  It is okay to participate in the bachelor party because there is really no harm done and it’s all in the name of fun.  But it’s not.  The women on stage in the strip club are our sisters, daughters, and mothers.  They all have a value beyond that of their physical appearance.  And the woman standing up at the alter, the day after the bachelor party has value too.  She is worthy of the respect of a man who will not objectify her, her mother, her sister, or her daughter.  In fact, one day, it may be his daughter up there at the alter.  Then how will it feel to picture the man she is pledging to partner her life with as having been out the night before, bare breasts hanging in his face and a g-string grinding in his lap?

And so we come to Espresso Gone Wild.  A legitimate business model, with apparently enough of a customer base to make it successful.  Legally, I’m on their side.  They have a right to do business and the women working there have a right to wear what they choose (within established law of course).  But I’ve got to tell you… I’m really rooting for the citizens who oppose them.  Not because it shouldn’t be legal… but because I hope they can convince enough people about the harm done to women through this sort of establishment that they make it commercially unviable.  Not in my town, not in view of my daughter, not at my wedding.  Let’s start calling it what it is, and demanding a little more respect.