The Swimsuit

Monday, 1:39 p.m.

We discuss Sue Thornham’s “Fixing into images” in class. We talk about the male gaze - how men have always seen/portrayed women in an objectified and sexualized manner, without their consent. We critically analyze how “a woman is always looked at, but never actually seen” as a complete individual with all her dreams, flaws, memories, and more. She is always portrayed through the lens of a man’s imagination of femininity. 

Friday, 2:14 p.m.

For my first-ever swimming class on Saturday morning, I go to the Decathlon to buy my first-ever swimming suit - a little worried about the fact that I might have to end up buying something I “should” feel comfortable wearing but I don’t. I go to the women’s swimsuit section only to find a limited number of options, all of them much more revealing than I would prefer. After struggling for an hour and not wanting to settle as yet, I decide to check out some other stores - only to be met with more disappointment. Every store’s women swimming collection screams - “If you don’t wear a very thin, lacey bikini with a v-shaped bottom cut kind of swimsuit, just forget about swimming. That is what you are supposed to wear. There is no alternative.” 

In the end, I buy the one (I think) I like, not as revealing, not as concealing. I buy the one a little more revealing than I would have preferred initially - from the fear of being otherwise seen as “boring” and “prude” (top these fears with internal racism because of which I don’t want to be seen as “the Indian woman” who is “shy” and “not comfortable with showing her body” because she comes from a conservative background). 

It makes me feel pretty, I think. It will help me with my confidence, I think. Well, I had to buy something! 

Saturday, 8:12 a.m.

I go to UniWien Sportscentre for my swimming class - very anxious and a little excited. As I enter the women’s changing room, I immediately feel a sense of relief because everyone is in swimsuits. And no one is staring at anyone, everyone just minding their own business or busy getting to know fellow mates. I change into my swimsuit. 

Saturday, 8:31 a.m.

As the class begins, a fellow Indian classmate (let’s call her S) walks up to me and points out how, both of us, and only the two of us, out of more than 40 other women, were wearing swimsuits that were much less revealing than what the other women were wearing in the class. Her theory is that because both of us were the only ones from India (as opposed to the progressive Europe/Vienna), we seem to have internalized the male gaze so much that even when we know that no one here would care much about how we look or what we wear - we just still can’t seem to be comfortable in our skin or the “display” of it. Defensively, I, considering myself to be a very self-aware feminist (whatever that means), want to pretend that I definitely don’t care about how my body looks and that I am definitely extremely comfortable (not true, obviously). I reply “Oh, I bought this swimsuit because I think it makes me look really pretty and I love the color.” And then, overexplaining myself, I added, “I just wanted to buy something which makes me feel comfortable and I don’t want to be self-conscious while trying to learn a sport”. And some more explanation which she did not ask me for. 

Saturday, 9:20 am

S and I exchange phone numbers and we talk about missing Delhi street food as we say goodbye. “See you next week!”

Sunday, 6:37 pm

As I write my blog, I try to think “How do my Monday and Saturday connect?”. My wet swimsuit hangs on the drying rack outside my room catering to god-knows-whose gaze. 

(image by self)
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Some additional notes to consider:

1. There is a difference between clothing being comfortable/suitable for swimming and then a piece of clothing being over-sexualized and revealing and there being no alternatives to it even if it would not be a logistical issue to have those alternatives.

2. Whose gaze am I catering to? Is this the male gaze? Is choosing to wear something revealing succumbing to the internalized male gaze? How can I reconcile wanting to look pretty and hot with wanting to not cater to the male gaze? How do I deal with the fear of being seen as a prude? Seen as a prude by who? Am I again being captured by this male gaze? Or is it my perception of the male gaze which happened to travel across borders into this progressive country?