Why âfemale-presenting nipplesâ matter
When I was 10, my mom made me wear a bra and it felt like a punishment for being different.
When I was 10, I took the bra off when changing for gymnastics and accidentally dropped it in the school hallway. A teacher picked it up and said, âOh, this must belong to youâ and handed it back to me in front of everyone. I quit gymnastics.
When I was 11, I thought maybe the boobs would be okay so long as they didnât get any bigger than would fit in my hand, so I kept measuring it, but they did.
When I was 12, I started wearing two or three sports bras to smush them down, until one day a classmate said, âAre you wearing two bras?!â while laughing.
When I was 13, a boy told me he wanted to squeeze my boobs âuntil they popped.â
When I was 14, I got cast in a play as an older character and a classmate told me I got the role because I had boobs.
When I was 17, my mom told me to return a swimsuit because it would be too distracting for my boyfriendâs father.
When I was 21, I got properly fitted for a bra and everyone felt the need to tell me how much better my boobs looked.
When I was 26, I got pregnant and my immediate fear was that my boobs would get bigger.
When I was 28, I got shamed for trying to feed my screaming baby in public without a cover.
When I was 28, people asked me âwhy are you bothering to use a breastfeeding cover?â
When I was 30, people gave me weird looks that I wasnât yelling at my kid for putting their hand on my boob.
When I was 31, I avoided going to the beach or pool because I didnât want to have to deal with boobs in a swimsuit.
When I was 32, I got asked, again, âwhy donât you get a breast reduction?â
When I was 33, I watched a 5yo girl get shamed for running around in sweltering heat without a shirt on and had to reprimand a bunch of tween boys who thought it was okay to shame her for doing something they do all the time.
When I was 34, my kid kept patting my breast and saying âMommyâs squishy breast!!â They will never see me express any shame about tits, because I want them to have a different mindset than I had. Yes, boobs are nice! Theyâre squishy! Theyâre fun! Thatâs the end of that.
Iâm 35 and no longer give a fuck. I donât care anymore. As a teenager my tits were covered in stretch marks. Theyâve been engorged with milk. My nipple changed shape with pregnancy. Give it another couple decades and my breasts will probably be all wrinkly. Itâs sexual when Iâm using it sexually. I donât fucking care, and I wonât be ashamed anymore.Â
Every time a policy or cultural hangup treats people with breasts differently, it fucks us over.Â
Tumblrâs new policy makes an active choice to participate in this culture of shame. By classifying âfemale-presenting nipplesâ as explicit material, Tumblr has taken a stance that any chest or breast that differs from a male default is worthy of shame and unavoidably sexual. The idea that breasts are shameful and unavoidably sexual is exactly what fucked me up for so much of my life.
Stop shaming people for having bodies.Â
*claps until my arms fall off*
I still get shamed at work for having large breasts..what the fuck would you like me to do about them? I love them and Iâm sorry youâre afraid of them!
I literally never reblog things like this, but itâs some real shit honestly. My own mom loves to shame me for my chest. Iâve avoided wearing v-necks and low-cut tops ever since my chest got big enough to be a âproblemâ. Sheâll tell me to put on a bra if Iâm not wearing one, even if Iâm just at home not doing anything. Sheâs told me I should always wear one around my dad. Iâm 21 and sheâlll still pull my shirt up for me if it gets âtoo lowâ. My own mom sexualizes my chest even when I put in effort to make sure Iâm completely covered. âFemale presenting nipplesâ and breasts are not inherently sexual and Iâm tired of treating them like they are.
When I was in kindergarten, I asked my grandma for help putting a shirt on. She chastised me because my father could see my bare chest.
had When I was in grade school, I was told that flashing my chest at a guy was how to get what I wanted, not diplomacy.
When I was in middle school, guys would ask to touch my chest. When Iâd say no, theyâd get violent.
Not wearing a bra was called gross, wearing one that was tight hurt and got me called flat-chested to the point of being laughed at, and wearing a bra that fit got me called a slut. People assumed I was a prostitute because of my chestâs size. Thereâs nothing wrong with sex work, but I was in middle school.
Wearing anything that showed cleavage or fit any tighter than an XL hoodie, I was called slutty. Told to put my boobs away. My sister would say I looked like a whore. My friends would tell me to stop showing off. My mum would tell me I couldnât go out like that.
Even now, itâs an issue. If I wear a dress, I must always have it altered or have a coverup because my entire family insists itâs simply wrong. Wearing a tank top at home to bed means being told to put my chest away, to cover up. Boys rarely look me in the eye while talking to me. They rarely listen. Their hands âaccidentallyâ touch as they reach for something so far away.
Wearing anything that doesnât hide my chest is considered asking for harassment. Wearing XL hoodies is called âcrustyâ and gross.
And even as our breasts are sexualized at every turn, theyâre also criticized. They must not sag, must not be uneven. They must not have marks or be the wrong size. They must have clear skin and matching nipples that are perfectly round and perky. They must be perfect, or we are disgusting for the very thing we are already both valued and criticized for.
There is no winning. And all for the hormones meant to help us grow and survive.
Being small chested I wished I had the bigger boobs other girls had. I was teased for âlooking like a boyâ, encouraged to wear padded bras and was often overlooked by guys for not being pretty like the other girls. I always thought the grass was so much greener on the other side but this post has educated me. Iâm sorry girls, letâs change the dynamic. Letâs teach our daughters to love their bodies!
when i realized i was starting to develop breasts looking at myself in the mirror when i was about 11 years old i had an absolute breakdown in the bathroom. i remember thinking precisely âi knew this would happen, but why so soon? my life as i know it is over.â children know what comes with that. i became pretty depressed throughout the third grade, crying sporadically, and made myself eat a ton every day cause i hoped that it would make people think that i was just fat, not growing boobs. or at least not be seen as attractive. i wasnt ready for that yet and i still dont like them in most contexts. people called me out for having lopsided boobs in high school lol. i wear almost exclusively sports bras and considered wearing a binder when i was in college.
