girlmirrorshh2I was raised to be modest. I was always being reminded to close the door, cross my legs, suck in my stomach and sit up straight. Mini skirts were out and turtlenecks were in. The only thing I knew about breastfeeding was that it was distasteful and to be done behind closed doors, if it had to be done at all. I wasn’t breastfed and neither was my mother.

Nudity was for the bathtub. Indeed, I was sure it was the only place people were allowed to be naked. Babies came from storks, the doctor gave you a pill to swallow to make a baby boy or girl grow in your tummy (you wouldn’t know which pill you had swallowed until the baby came out), and who knew how they got out of there for the stork to deliver them. Gym class was a nightmare. I don’t know how the other girls managed to dress and undress in front of each other. I was scared to use public bathrooms for fear someone would stand up on the toilet in the stall next to me and peer over the wall. It wasn’t until I was in my 20’s and had female roommates that I learned that my body wasn’t something that needed to be hidden all the time.

I had a friend who used to go hiking topless. She also exercised in the nude in her shared living room and had naked dinners with her boyfriend. Although I didn’t share her naked pride, I was proud she was my friend. I didn’t realize it until much later but her confidence (some would say exhibitionism, but she would disagree) made me a lot more comfortable with my own body. My modesty was evolving.

When I had my first child I knew I wanted to breastfeed, but I honestly wondered what I would do when she got hungry in public. I couldn’t imagine offering her my breast where other people might catch a glimpse of some socially non-acceptable flesh. But I surprised myself. The other side of me, the activist, and the new side of me, the proud and fierce mama bear, joined forces to do what needed to be done.

At first, I started off being as discrete as possible, but all the fussing around to get comfortable and drape a blanket over us and respond to her cries while she tried to remove the cover seemed to draw more attention to what I was doing and made me feel even more self-conscious. Not just of breastfeeding, but now my baby’s behaviour and my mothering skills.

I had to toss the props. Without them we were much more comfortable. And then finally, the day came when a woman in a mall food court came up to me and asked if I would be more comfortable nursing my daughter in the mother’s room. “We have a chair there,” she said. And I confidently looked up at her and said “No, thank you. I’m more comfortable here.”

A woman’s confidence to breastfeed in public comes from somewhere, whether it’s her upbringing, positive images of breastfeeding in the media, seeing other women breastfeed in public and experiences with friends, and intimate relationships. If a woman grows up with her clothes on, like I did, and is never exposed to an alternative before having her baby, what are the chances she’ll breastfeed? What are the chances she’ll breastfeed in public?

What do you think?

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8 Responses to “The Evolution of My Modesty (or Growing Up With My Clothes On)”

  1. #1 BB Says:

    February 8, 2009 at 3:58 pm
  2. #2 Lindsay Says:

    February 8, 2009 at 6:30 pm
  3. #3 Melodie Says:

    February 8, 2009 at 9:41 pm
  4. #4 Nicole Feliciano Says:

    February 21, 2009 at 9:06 am

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