Feminist Corsetry

I've been using the last few days to work on my first corset and it's not far off the finish line! It's not perfect but for a first attempt--and I am SERIOUSLY inexperienced when it comes to dressmaking--I am quite pleased with it.

My mother, who has been teaching me how to use the sewing machine (turns out I can sew more neatly on it than her: mwahaha), has remarked several times that she is totally dismayed that she has failed to bring up a good feminist daughter. Excuse me? Several times I have tried to argue with her, and point out that a) I am a staunch feminist and b) corsets and feminism are not necessarily incompatible, but she continues to miss the point. OK, a good deal of this is friendly banter, but I do feel that Mum doesn't really understand my seemingly bizarre combination of ideals and practices.

I would never let Mum read this blog, but I think this provides me with a good opportunity to explain how corsets fit into feminism for me. After all, this is all about personal choice and what everyone is comfortable with on an individual level.

I have been fascinated with corsets for as long as I have been fascinated with women, history and feminism (most of my life, in other words). My GCSE English Creative Writing piece was entitled simply Corset and told the story of a rite of passage for a young late-Victorian girl: being laced into a corset for the first time. The girl's mother is a suffragette, while her father is a narrow-minded bastard, and the story culminates in the grateful protagonist serving her country in WWII without wearing a corset. Very safe, "nice," cutesy feminist stuff (I had only just turned fifteen) but the basic morals are there and I'm still a little bit proud of that piece.

I have a 1998 hardback Reader's Digest book, given to me by my grandmother, entitled Yesterday's Britain. For most of my childhood it has been a bible to me. It is battered, it boasts my seven-year-old handwriting inside the front cover proclaiming my full name and the address I lived at ten years ago, and it's stuffed with old bits of creative writing that were inspired by its pages. It's not exactly an intellectual history book--it's crammed full of pictures--but as a young girl it inspired me and it continues to do so. On one page is a brief article about corsets and a few entertaining pictures: an Edwardian advertisement and a picture of a tiny-waisted woman who I think might be Camille Clifford (see above pic). The page gave me the idea for my GCSE piece, and when I was twelve or thirteen I copied the picture of the corseted actress and spent ages shading the waist.

So I have always been drawn to corsets and corseted figures, yet passionately proud of my family background of strong working women, including a suffragette four generations back, and my developing feminism. I remember the scene in Titanic where Rose's character is laced into her corset by her mother, and, as an eight-year-old addicted to the only 12-rated film she could watch, that was the scene that really caught my imagination (aside from the scene where Jack draws Rose in her necklace. Ahem). I guess it's always been natural that I would make one, one day.

The conditions of making one:

1) That I would not be forced to wear it or under any pressure to wear it

2) That I would not wear it for any man (or indeed woman)

3) That it wouldn't be there to constrain me but, actually, to empower me.

This is where, predictably, Emilie Autumn comes in. When I became obsessed with EA, I marvelled at how she combines so many of my interests in one kick-ass package: history, corsets, "fighting like a girl," tea... She ticks all the boxes: she offers all of the things that I have adored since I was a little girl, which is why I am so addicted. And she's certainly helped me where corsetry is concerned. As she tells us in her Rule No. 3, "Your corset is your armour. Lace it tightly. Breathing is unimportant." OK, I would certainly argue that breathing IS fairly important, particularly if you are prone to stress (and what the Victorians might term hysteria) like yours truly, but the word I want to zoom in on here is "armour."

Corsets can be reclaimed by feminists. Instead of being a symbol of constraint and patriarchy, they can become our armour, our protection, and a bloody good way of doing what the hell we want. For me personally, a corset is a really empowering thing because it's tight, it fits me and it makes no apologies for being a woman's garment. I pull the lacing on it, no one is constraining me without my permission. It's my body, and I will do what I want with it, and it is certainly not going to be worn in clubs in which I will strip out of it for the benefit of others.

Plus, if feminists have to be exclusively un-corseted dungaree-wearers (not that there is anything wrong with this, I've worn quite a few pairs in my time!) who never put on an apron, then what has feminism achieved? I bake cakes, I have tea parties, I wear red lipstick and I am bloody well making a corset, and I am very much a feminist. Being a feminist gives me the rather wonderful feeling that there are no limits on what I can wear and who I can be... and so wearing a corset as a feminist is rather liberating. And corsets are damn beautiful too.

I understand that the symbolism and pain attached to a corset can put a lot of feminists off, yet I personally feel that feminism and corsetry do not have to be incompatible. I am very proud that I have reached a stage in my life where I no longer feel the need to agonise over trying to reconcile my taste, sexuality and feminist views.

J xxx

p.s. This is almost completely unrelated... If you want gay rights to keep on improving, please don't vote Conservative! Examples of several recent fails:

--At BBC News (concerning comments made on the B&B incident)

--Guardian article: comment on the same story

--Major David Cameron gay-rights interview Fail

All the other parties are more gay-friendly. :) Obviously there are other good reasons not to vote Tory too, I'm not pushing a single issue here! x