It’s getting ‘cold’ here in Barcelona, and it’s been a few weeks since I have seen breasts that were not my own. I specifically remember the last time because I was shivering in my sweater, jean jacket, and suede boots as I attempted to enjoy the ‘sea breeze’. My scarf was hanging onto my neck for dear life. But, here was this woman, wearing nothing but a bikini bottom and delightfully running into the sea. Clearly she was Nordic, and so were her breasts. She looked out of place on the seashore in early November, not because she was topless but because to locals it is now Winter, and Winter requires that we wear clothes. Lots of them.
I’ve thought a lot about breasts since moving to Barcelona. And since I live 7 minutes away from the (mostly gay and nude) beach, I found myself thinking about breasts on a daily basis. As anyone who has lived in North America knows, seeing breasts in public space takes some getting used to. It was illegal for women to go topless in Toronto until a few years ago. Given this fact, it is normal to see young North American men freaking the hell out when they get to the beaches of Europe (identifying features: they are the ones wearing bathing trunks down past their knees, standing in a circle, with their heads flailing about unable to focus on a given point). The young women of North America also freak out, because they can finally get an even tan (identifying feature: they are the ones with brown skin, white breasts and an uncertain smile on their lips).
The thing that is the most interesting to me about all of this is not the breasts themselves, but how groups of local friends and family (men, women, and children) can all hang out on the beach together and not have a heart attack because they are in the presence of the naked breasts of their mother, sister, friend, or girlfriend. Can we de-sexualize breasts to this extent!? Can we actually make them not matter?
This summer I noticed a change in my own perception of breasts. I had become so used to seeing them that the presence of covered ones actually made me see them as sexual objects. But that is the case with all things forbidden and out of sight: they become desirable and fetishized. A naked body is simply a body; no part of the body gains importance over another. However, a selectively covered body gives importance to the parts that it is selectively covering. Those parts gain a particular meaning. By covering the breasts on the beach so as not to draw attention and supposedly arouse sexual desire, we are actually sexualizing a public space that does not need to be sexualized.
Your last paragraph is so true. I remember going to the South of France in the summer for the first time, strolling along the Promenade des Anglais in Nice and looking at all the naked breasts. To my surprise, I wasn’t sexually aroused at seeing all these breasts, in oh such wonderful abundance. I started to think there was something wrong with me! My eyes fell upon these very beautiful young girls in their early 20′s, playing volleyball with their very well developed breasts bouncing with each attempt at hitting the ball, unrestrained by a bikini top or anything else. While the sight itself was simply beautiful, there was no arousal! My concern was now getting quite serious at my lack of arousal. I was about 28 at the time and had not had any problems in the past
. As I was observing these beauties, they finished playing and put on a mere piece of string around their breasts, just enough to cover the nipples, to come away from the beach to the Promenade. And, as they did this, bang, I was very aroused!!! So, the question that begs to be asked is “do I get aroused when I see a woman in a Niqab”? The answer is, yes, sometimes. But, there has to be a visible, “promise”, of what is held in the cover of cloth. I suppose that is why I like lingerie on women, but, that’s just me!!
yes, i agree. we (north americans) can sexualize just about anything, especially innocent breasts, especially on young women. what i find interesting is the first time we, women, see the breasts of our friends. i’ve seen yours.. you’ve seen mine (right?). for me, there is always a moment of pause before i relinquish my bra or top in front of a girlfriend. and then, when the clothes come off and my guard comes down, i’ll think to myself, “hm, she has nice boobs”, the way i’d think “hm, she has nice eyes or hair or….” there is no judgement, just observation. something new. and then it’s back to business as usual. boobs are special, important, multi-tasking, but i sure wish, like you, that they weren’t such a big deal.