The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Wednesday, December 9, 2020 — 15
statement
Sex on the
Sex on the
internet
internet
BY ALIX CURNOW, STATEMENT COLUMNIST
P
lease, no, not on social media. I *heart
emoji* you so much and really no. Sa-
vor it for the personal and unique,
not the masses,” read the comment my aunt had
left on a photo I posted on Instagram last week.
The photo was of me, with my back to the cam-
era, wearing a bra and a thong. Before I posted
the photo, I had texted it to my group chat with
friends from high school.
“Do y’all think this is too scandalous to post
on my Instagram?” I asked them. They all re-
plied with a resounding “No,” which was fol-
lowed by compliments on the photograph and
questions about where I had gotten the lingerie.
Excited, I uploaded the picture. My phone
began notifying me of countless likes and com-
ments surrounding the picture. I got the typi-
cal rush of dopamine that comes with posting
anything on social media and receiving positive
feedback. The photo had been up for a cou-
ple of days and I was happy with it. I thought
it looked nice with the rest of my feed and it
seemed like most other people did too.
After day three of the photo being posted,
my aunt left her comment. In consequence,
almost as quickly as the photo was uploaded,
I archived it. Immediately after, I deleted the
entire Instagram app from my phone. I didn’t
want a reminder of her comment or of the pho-
to. I sat on the floor of my room, my cheeks hot
with embarrassment.
“I probably looked like such a slut to other
people who weren’t bold enough to comment
as my aunt did!” I thought to myself. I thought
about the fact that the first man I had ever had
sex with, who I hadn’t talked to in five years
and who never usually likes my Instagram
posts, had liked the image. “God…” I thought.
“He only ever wanted me for my body anyway.”
My head filled with thoughts of self-hatred
and anxiety. I questioned my intentions behind
posting the photograph. Did I post it so the men
on my page would see it and find me attractive?
Did I post it because I felt good? Did I post it
because I wanted to contribute to an Instagram
environment where scandalous photos like the
one I posted are normalized? Did I post it be-
cause I wanted to celebrate the female figure?
All these questions didn’t seem to have an
answer. Maybe these rationalizations were all
true, maybe none of them were. I felt put into
a bind: I didn’t know if my post was self-em-
powering or if my post contributed to patriar-
chal exploitation and sexualization. Why did
my photograph have to contribute to that? I
certainly didn’t intend for it to — but it seemed
that my aunt’s notions of its appropriateness
lent itself to unsolicited sexualization of my
body. Or … was it solicited because I had posted
it on my Instagram? Why did a photo of me in
lingerie have to be sexual anyway?
My relationship with my own sexuality has
never been something I’m ashamed of. Before
entering a monogamous relationship, I regular-
ly participated in hook-up culture. I enjoy sex
— like, a lot. I’ve always been excited to explore
different areas of my sexuality, and quite frank-
ly, my relationship to sex is something I take a
lot of pride in. I felt comfortable with sex and
wearing lingerie, and I felt comfortable enough
to post that photo on my Instagram.
So why was I so incredibly embarrassed
when my aunt commented on my post? Perhaps
because in the generation she grew up in, any-
thing related to sex was seen as a more private
activity than it is now. To my aunt, the photo of
me in lingerie was inherently sexual. I did see
it as a rather sexy post, but that didn’t make it
bad. Why did my aunt think that exposing my-
self sexually on social media was something I
shouldn’t do?
At first, I saw my aunt’s comment as a reflec-
tion of myself: Because I posted a sexy photo
on my Instagram, I was asking to be sexualized,
which meant I was a slut. Yet, I started to think
about why posting a sexual photo on Instagram
made me think of myself as a slut? When I saw
other people post “scandalous” photos on their
Instagram, I’ve never thought that of them. I
think it’s because oftentimes, women are made
to feel ashamed for expressing themselves in a
sexual light. I had control over my Instagram
and what photos I posted. This made posting
the photo an act of sexual empowerment. How-
ever, I don’t have control over how other peo-
ple will react. Nor do I think I need to.
I realize now that my aunt’s comment was
a reflection of her and her own relationship to
sex. From her comment, I could see that my
aunt thought photos that were more sexual
should be personal and unique, whereas my ap-
proach to sexual photos and sex overall is that
if it makes you feel good, do it! While I see her
perception of sex as valid, it isn’t the same as
mine.
Everyone else who liked the photo or saw it
on their Instagram feed has their own unique
relationship to sex. Perhaps they wouldn’t feel
comfortable posting a photo in lingerie on their
Instagram feed. That’s perfectly fine with me
and I understand their viewpoint, but it doesn’t
mean I should feel bad or guilty for posting it
on my own.
Especially from the heteronormative male
perspective, women can be sexy privately, but
not publicly. They can be sexy for their partner,
but the minute they recognize their own sexual
identity and develop a desire to showcase that
to the world, they are subject to ridicule and
slut-shaming. Why is a woman taking owner-
ship of her own sexuality deemed something to
be ashamed of?
I’ll never truly understand why my aunt
commented on my post. She said “I *heart emo-
ji* you so much,” which makes me think she did
it out of love. Maybe she sees the way women
are viewed and sexualized in society, and she
doesn’t want that for me. I don’t want that for
me either. Which is why rather than deleting
my post entirely, I decided to delete her com-
ment. If my aunt or anyone has a problem with
my Instagram photo, that’s something they can
investigate on their own time. Because it truly
has nothing to do with me.
When women are modest, they are seen as
boring. When women are sexual, they are seen
as easy. If we, as women, are going to be contin-
uously placed into boxes, I suggest that rather
than trying to adhere to societal standards of
what we should and shouldn’t be, we do what
feels good to us. Whether that’s posting a scan-
dalous photo on your Instagram or having a
feed that’s only kittens and food porn. No mat-
ter what women do, someone will always have
something to say about it, so as long as we’re
not harming anyone else in the process, let’s
embrace what we’ve got and forget about the
rest.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY MAGGIE WEIBE