On the objectification of postpartum bodies
There’s been a lot of talk about postpartum body image recently on social media. This came after model Emily Ratajkowski posted a picture of herself very soon after she had her baby looking just as slim as she was before pregnancy. The comments fell into three main camps: Those criticising her for posting the image, those saying she never asked to be part of the resulting debate, and those lamenting at the toxic nature of social media.
The reaction to her post is emblematic of the way women’s bodies have always been scrutinised during and after pregnancy, as if it’s not enough to go through nine months of carrying a baby, we must also then abide by certain standards of beauty afterwards.
The thing is, it’s Emily body to share. Her entire feed is already devoted to sharing it, whether we agree with that or not – millions of fans clearly enjoy it. She has written previously that taking ownership of her own body felt empowering after so many magazines had profited from her images.
Regardless, social media creates a certain sort of discomfort because whether we intend to or not, we regularly compare ourselves to others. The reason why social media posts showcasing perfection are so triggering is because we’re all upheld to ideal standards and expectations of beauty, both during pregnancy (‘oh what a neat bump you have’) and afterwards.
In London we can even wear ‘baby on board’ signs on public transport to signify our vulnerability (I hated these for that very reason). Whether we like it or not, our bodies become a sort of ‘public property’ and no longer only our own.
It’s worth remembering that every body looks different before pregnancy, and so will it after. We can be sensitive to the changes we all go through, whilst also celebrating how powerful the body is. Following perfectionist ideals online should come with an understanding that consuming social media itself has the potential to impact upon our mental wellbeing, especially if we are following feeds that make us feel bad. If our society didn’t place such an emphasis on how we look, we might not feel so compelled to share at all.
I was amazed at what my body went through, but I felt conflicted about talking about it. Most people didn’t know what had gone on behind the scenes. I was proud of my body for overcoming medical trauma, for being able to breastfeed despite a very rare complication (or rather, a medical mistake), resulting in a second emergency surgery and a longer hospital stay followed by medication and a painful recovery (Chapter 2 of my book tells the rather gory details). My body had changed enormously, even if it didn’t look like it on first glance.
The narrative of having to ‘bounce back’ is damaging, but so is the narrative that pregnancy will ruin the body forever, which I remember a group of us talked about when we were only teenagers – simply accepting this as fact.
The point is, we should celebrate the female body however it looks and instead criticise the culture that has led us here – that makes us so focussed on how we are expected to look rather than what we’ve achieved.
--
Questions? You can reply to this post or I’m also on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.
If you’re interested in how motherhood changes us – my book explains exactly why. Pre-orders really make a difference to first time authors like me. The Motherhood Complex (out May 20th) is available on Hive, Waterstones, Foyles or Amazon.