Society has unwritten rules that we’re all expected to follow and that can dictate some of the most intimate choices in our lives – from family structure and career and lifestyle decisions to the underwear we wear. That last one may seem out of left field, but it’s true that society tells girls of all ages that as soon as their breasts start forming wearing a bra is the appropriate and decent thing to do.
When I was a little girl, I could hardly wait to start wearing a bra. To me, it was a symbol of growing up, becoming a woman, and I began wearing one long before it was “necessary”. As a teenager, I found it fun to buy every different colour and style available until I had dozens to choose from. Back then, I accepted the discomfort of strapping down my breasts as one of the many unfair consequences of being female. I thought there was no other choice.
But in 2012, aged 30, routine shoulder surgery made me reconsider. My doctor told me not to wear a bra while the incisions were healing, which took about three weeks – and it was a revelation. It felt so natural not to be constricted. I enjoyed the feeling so much that I continued to go braless while I was in a sling for another two months. I “justified” it by reasoning that my arm was covering my front, so no one would notice.
When the time finally came for the sling to go, I joked to my boyfriend that I would have to start wearing a bra again. In truth, I didn’t find it funny – I was dreading it. After almost a lifetime of discomfort, I had finally been liberated from the tight, elastic belts wrapped around my ribcage, the straps that either dug into my shoulders or constantly slipped off, and the underwire which gouged and poked at me. I really didn’t want to go back.
“Why do you wear one at all if they are so uncomfortable?” my boyfriend asked me. I dismissed his questioning as naive – of course, he wouldn’t know about the societal expectations heaped on women and our bodies. I had always understood – implicitly – that as a woman my breasts shouldn’t be seen to move freely in public. And all women know that without a bra the nipples are more conspicuous – they should never, we are told, be perceived through our tops. There’s a stigma of promiscuity connected to women who dare to go bare under their shirts, however nonsensical.
Complying with social and cultural norms was only part of the issue. I worried that if I didn’t wear a bra my breasts would get saggy. I had heard since childhood that a lack of support could cause a breakdown in breast tissue, and I had no interest in speeding up the ageing effects of gravity on my body. But a quick internet search on the subject proved that to be a myth: another way of enforcing women’s relationships with underwire.
My partner’s naivety – or idealism – had got me thinking. Why do we care so deeply about the opinions of others on our bodies at the expense of our own comfort? Going braless is hardly indecent. I had an epiphany: I didn’t have to subject myself to discomfort just to meet other people’s standards. Their judgments could have no hold on me if I didn’t care.
With my perspective and values realigned and fears of future knee-knockers quelled, I made the decision to ditch the bra for ever. Now, more than 10 years later, I’m still enjoying the freedom and I’m no longer self-conscious. I ignore any looks that I might have perceived as judgmental – I am simply no longer bothered by what others may think, and that feels so freeing. It may not be for everyone, but I’m so glad I stopped putting others’ comfort above my own. Ditching my bras was a choice I made for myself. And I’d encourage any other woman thinking about it to do the same.
Becki Jacobson is an American writer and entrepreneur
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