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Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Behold, the Power of Shoes

Women love shoes.

It's a stereotype as old as Sears Roebuck itself, often the subject of jokes that are funny for about five minutes until you realize that invoking stereotypes for the sake of humor and not doing anything more is shorthand for "I'm not actually funny, I'm just an asshole."  And recently, it's become a thorn in the sides of radfems seeking to abolish anything viewed as traditionally "feminine" (a rant for another day, I assure you, because fighting sexism with misogyny is like stabbing yourself and expecting your opponent to keel over dead).

Before I start on this, I want to go on record that I am not a shoe-woman.  I own exactly three pair: one pair of flip-flops (because Florida), one pair of plain black slip-ons, and a pair of black steel-toed men's work boots.  All three pair put together set me back less than $60, and I only replace them when they are quite literally falling apart.  No doubt there are many women out there who are much the same.  Like any stereotype out there, there are going to be people who buck the trend, real or perceived.

The reason I'm defending the women out there who do love shoes, however, is because I'm sick of being told there is only one right way to be a feminist, and I'm doubly sick of interests associated with women getting shat upon because nobody ever grew up past "girls have cooties!"  I'm tired of women and anything associated with women being Acceptable Targets.

First, shoes carry different meanings for men and women.  For men, they're an item of fashion and/or utility and little else.  You wear them because they fit a need, and don't really think much of it.

With regard to women, shoes are a symbol of independence.  Especially for older women who grew up in the 1950s, the era that the phrase "barefoot and pregnant" as the pinnacle of female virtue gained popularity.  Shoes mean she can leave the house whenever she damned well pleases.  Shoes mean agency and the ability to do things for herself without having to wait for her husband to get home.

As a fashion accessory, it's no wonder that women who love shoes are going to buy a lot of them, and are going to be choosy about their styles and colors.  Shoes are a symbol of individual rebellion.  Naturally they're going to reflect the woman who is wearing them.  The woman who is telling the world that she does what she wants and if you don't like it, you can kindly fuck off because she doesn't have to answer to you.

Women who love shoes view them the same way that men who love vehicles view their cars.  But while jokes about guys and cars are affectionate and good-natured, the jokes about women and shoes are derisive and full of contempt.  And it's more than just a hideous double standard of 'girly' interests being worthless.

Denigrating women for liking shoes is denigrating them for putting their agency and independence on display.  For expressing their individual desires and wants and going out to get them.  For reminding everyone that they are not to be kept locked up in the house all day.  It's denigrating women for not wanting to be controlled.

Think about that the next time you make or hear a hateful joke about women and shoes.  Would you effectively tell that woman you think she's stupid because she wants to leave the house and be her own person and you find that just hilarious?

If you would think twice, maybe that joke is better left unmade.

1 comment:

  1. I'm like you. Sneakers, flip-flops, slippers, cowboy boots because country music. What else do I really need? And why? I'm 38, and I never learned to walk in heels.

    My mother is physically challenged, and had to wear 'corrective' shoes for 18 years, like the ugliest thing in the shoe store was magically going to fix her feet. Once she escaped from that, she bought shoes like nobody's business. And each pair 'has to match' X Outfit. "What are you ever going to wear those shoes with/What shoes will you wear with that getup?" were questions I heard A LOT growing up. (Gee, wonder why I rebelled so far the other way, Ma?)

    When she finds a pair she likes and are comfortable, she buys them in every color. No lie, we moved boxes of shoes 2,200 miles from Vermont to Colorado that she has never worn. Still have the tags and everything. My sister and I are praying we can find a vintage / secondhand shop somewhere in Metro Denver to take her stuff.

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