I Can’t Bare It

As far as equal rights movements go I am on board the peace train. 

It was with elation and relief that I celebrated, with a good portion of the rest of the world, when America recently gave same sex couples the right to marry. And if I was alive in 1894, when the first women of this country were given the right to vote in South Australia, I would have been dancing victoriously in a billowy skirt and little booty shoes.

But there is a women’s right movement that will not have me dancing, moving or shaking what my mumma gave me. It’s the Go Topless campaign. It’s a blossoming movement that started in America and campaigns for women to have the same right as men to go bare-chested in public.

It’s an instant visual isn’t it? Puppies, puppies everywhere. But to what avail?

“As long as men are allowed to be topless in public, women should have the same constitutional right. Or else, men should have to wear something to hide their chests,” Rael, spiritual leader and Go Topless founder states on the organisation’s web site.

Sunday was Go Topless Day which saw enough breast on the street worldwide to make Hugh Hefner blush. Thousands of women in more than 60 cities put on a hooting display of bare flesh in a bid for women’s rights.

In its eighth year jiggling, the day preluded Women’s Equality Day, celebrated today on the anniversary of women gaining the right to vote in America in 1920. The campaign is gaining momentum and those using their breasts like placards to brandish freedom slogans are treating it like the modern day women’s suffrage. While it screams and bounces liberation, is it really just attention-seeking?

Here’s what I think:

Like a bra one size too small; it makes me uncomfortable. And I think I’ve figured out why. I don’t want to unleash my breasts in the street in unbridled abandon. And I don’t think the world is any the worse off for not seeing them set free. I have breastfed four children; they have been working boobs and while I don’t want to go down the road of body hating they aren’t exactly porn-star perky display boobs.

And maybe it’s my prudish side coming out, one I didn’t really know I had, but I don’t particularly feel the need to see other women’s chests either. But in a nod to equal rights, I don’t really have a desire to see men’s chests in public either.  The beach? Sure. Seaside-related activities like strolling on board walks or hanging out at closely located fish and chip shops? Also to be expected. But in the local library or lined up at Woolies with toddler and trolley in hand? Not my idea of customary for men either.

I also don’t think wearing a shirt is that much of an inconvenience to warrant a movement. I know I’ve grown up in a society where being clothed in public has dictated my version of what is acceptable, but I don’t feel downtrodden for it. In fact it keeps sacred the element of mystery, which I think is a healthy piece of the puzzle in the courting of males and females. At the risk of knocking knockers and their beautiful place and purpose in our world, I don’t want to see them swinging and dangling about the streets.

I want to be able to vote, I want equal pay and want to be treated as fairly as men in any situation but that’s where the cup stops for me. I don’t think protesting for cleavage to be unclothed is nearly as important as being able to marry who you want. Let’s not tarnish other good causes with trivial or misguided ones.

I’m afraid I have to say the Go Topless movement is like a breast without a nipple; rather pointless.

What do you think?