Feminism, you’ve got to love it, don’t you? The voice it’s given us girls: “Take me as I am! No? OK then, just take me from behind.”
Because that’s where we at now, isn’t it? The feminist movement has been reduced to a tilt of the toosh. ‘Women’ has become a collective noun for buttocks.
So when did we stop smiling at the camera and start sitting on it? How come we can’t move for butt-shots, yet no-one’s saying “wha-a-a-t?”
Take the latest cupid stunt from Kanye. Scared his new album ‘The Life of Pablo’ might not be enough for us, he hid behind a bottom. A big one – there – on his album cover: the cheese-sliced buttocks of a nameless, faceless girl.
But we can’t blame misogyny – or Kanye (or Pablo) – because no-one pimps our asses like us girls. Yep, it turns out Kanye’s album a*se-work was handpicked by his loving wife. Bless that Kim Kardashian, she’ll be pressing her husband’s shirts next WITH HER OVER-EXPOSED BOTTOM.
Well, enough, I say! Come on, girls, isn’t it time we stopped bending over for the boys? Let’s repossess the internet – clear out the junk, and bin the butt-shot.
First, let’s clarify terms. By ‘butt-shot’ I don’t mean one of those shyly-posted selfies, where a sixth-former twists round to show off her new jeans. Neither do I mean pap-shots of starlets in their Juicy Couture (though it’s a cheek, I grant you). What gets up my nose is the oily bum crack; the angled shunt; the graphic close-up of yet another woman’s ENTIRELY naked a***
As seen by millions on a Tuesday morning.
Because we all click on that link, don’t we? We’re all bored at our desks, we’re none of us looking away. But couldn’t we look just a bit askance? Why is no-one blinking at the endless spread of buttocks? Sucking in their teeth like Dick Emery, and crying ‘ooh, Vicar?’
When did society get so blasé about the booty-shot? More importantly, when did we women get so complicit? Forget desperate teenagers, these are successful, iconic women taking themselves up the a*** with a camera. So how did this happen? When did porn become ‘norm’?
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not a prim-lipped prude. As a rule, I don’t bristle at a buttock. Light years ago, I even flashed a bit of thigh myself: As a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it TV presenter, I sat down in a short skirt – and saw the terrible results posted on Celebrity Upskirt.
Even then, I was out of time. Gaining on the poor crotch-shot was a great, big bottom. Courtesy of Dr Bartels. Back in 1969, the Brazilian Bartels performed the first butt enhancement using a silicon breast implant. Decades on, the procedure’s been honed to a process of fat injections. Baby has got back.
And good for her. With the average British woman a pear-shaped size 16, I hail the massed-ranks of Meghan Trainers (myself included) for whom it’s all about the bass, no treble. But how a girl chooses to play with this glorious instrument is her own business, surely? When did our buttocks become so public-facing? And if they must be paraded up and down the cyber-street, can’t our communal butt revert to a sly silhouette – as opposed to a point of insertion?
Sex sells, I get it – life’s short and what’s wrong with a burst of cleavage or a squelch of thigh? But an all-out bum? It’s so dumb – and explicit. It’s not hinting to men about erotic pleasures to come – it’s pointing a great big arrow up a girl’s crack, and yelling “You Are Here”.
No-one admits this, though. Language is kept twee, tabloid copy is coy: “Blac Chyna puts her best assets to the world”. “Amber Rose shows her bare-faced cheek”. But just imagine if these female rumps were replaced with male ones? Smothered by Adonis-like bum-clefts, social media would gasp. Then go into macho meltdown. Because there’s a sexual message here. Just ask Robert Mapplethorpe. Presented with a beautiful behind, he reached for his bullwhip. So what are blokes reaching for now? And girls, why are we letting them?
We joke about men talking to our breasts, not our faces. But in a butt shot, you can’t even see the face. Either the girl’s craning round – a little squinty satellite above two vast, waxy moons – or pointing at the wall.
Demeaning, no? No! Because everyone’s at it – even Hollywood royalty, Kate Hudson, was rolling over in the bath last week, desperate to send a soapy butt-shot to the world. She still has a long way to travel, however, if she’s to catch the tail of Kim Kardashian. Yes, this modern Helen, this millennial Cleopatra, is a multi-millionairess and icon to young women across the globe, revered for the inspirational act of Sticking Her Bum Out. Not just Sticking It Out, mind. Back in 2014, she ‘broke the internet’ for pulling down her tights, covering it in baby oil and – oh, joy – sticking it out again.
I get it – I do – her buttocks are mighty. Why not send them slapping round the pages of a lad’s mag, like two fat seals trying to p-p-pick up a penguin? But the bottom is unstoppable, and squashes anything but jokey approval and laddish asides. As it completes its trillionth plop into our cyber laps, why does no-one cry ‘put it away’? Why don’t we cringe for our daughters, groomed to see the act dropping their pants as ‘normal’ – even better ‘aspirational’?!
To put it another way – can you imagine Kanye West pulling down his trousers (the little minx!) and waving his naughty, naked buttocks to camera? No, of course not. When Mr Kim Kardashian stormed the MTV awards, it was to berate a young girl who’d won an award for talent alone. (Shame on that Taylor Swift – trying to be a talent, not a bum-crack).
Well, sod ‘breaking’ the internet – I saw we mend it. Women, let’s put the springs back under our jello – and the jeans back on our junk. Don’t take any more cheek. Don’t click on that link. And when you’re next hit in the face by two pushy buttocks, push back. You’ll feel better for it!