Before and after I became a mom, I’ve always been a woman. I started as a tomboy and eventually flirted with the art of applying eyeliner (spoiler alert: I never quite nailed it). Regardless of my outfits or career aspirations, I quickly learned that navigating the workplace as a woman comes with its own set of surprises—some delightful, others, well, disappointing.
Writing about raising daughters has led me down various paths, from critiquing the notion of “Real Women” to expressing frustration over the trivialization of violence against women. I’ve shared my worries about how body image can loom large in their lives, often overshadowing their well-being.
The latest controversy that has sparked division among women was the #ImNoAngel campaign. With stunning photography and beautiful models, Lane Bryant’s campaign aimed to challenge the Victoria’s Secret Angels and offer a new definition of sexy.
I get the sentiment. I’ve strolled through malls, passing displays featuring flawlessly airbrushed women who seem to embody everything many of us aspire to—though let’s be honest, most of them wouldn’t look that way without a little digital enhancement. As the buzz around the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue heats up, I’ve often felt a wave of insecurity wash over me.
But here’s the thing: taking “sexy” away from anyone isn’t the answer. Shouldn’t we be striving to make it accessible to all women? Or better yet, why not emphasize that life isn’t solely about being sexy? It’s just one small facet of the rich tapestry of existence. Our perceptions of what makes us feel sexy will evolve over time.
The #ImNoAngel hashtag, though cleverly executed, doesn’t offer a true solution. As a woman and a mother, it often feels like we’re being drawn into yet another competition over who does womanhood better. This adversarial mindset perpetuates a sense of one-upmanship among women. I’ve found myself straddling the line between being an “angel” and not: I’m never quite plus size but also not the traditional slim and busty type. I appreciate the thrill of feeling desirable, but what I truly crave is a deeper and more nuanced sense of self.
- I am intelligent.
- I am tall.
- I am bilingual.
- I am funny.
- I am crafty.
- I am curvy and sinewy.
- I am both rugged and delicate.
In our culture, sex and scandal often sell. Since society has deemed women over a size 10 as less desirable, it’s no surprise that Lane Bryant resorted to a provocative approach to gain media attention. While I can understand their strategy, I wish I felt more comfortable supporting them. It feels as if they are dragging us all into a battle we never signed up for.
My hope is that we can harness our voices and spending power to create a world where media representation reflects the diversity of women. I want my three daughters, each unique in shape and interests, to feel seen and validated. I don’t want them to compete against each other for who’s more appealing or feminine. I dream of clothing options that cater to my middle daughter’s broad shoulders, my eldest’s petite frame with an edgy twist, and the dynamic style of my youngest, who is all about athletic wear. I long for choices beyond just pink, but just as crucial is the understanding that our shapes and styles do not define our worth as women.
None of us are angels. We are simply women, and we are extraordinary.
This essay originally appeared on Medium.
Summary:
In this reflective piece, Jessica Hartman navigates the complexities of womanhood while raising her daughters. She critiques the #ImNoAngel campaign, arguing that rather than creating division, we should celebrate the diverse experiences and definitions of femininity. Hartman emphasizes the importance of representation in media and hopes for a future where all women feel seen and valued, regardless of their body type.