Further on privacy

[ambitious_wench]

On privacy:

Recently an online friend said that he refrained from undressing in front of men that he knows are homosexual because he doesn't want the sin of lustful thoughts on his conscience. For all my badgering him, I can ultimately respect his behavior. It's not that he has anything to hide, really. He's not truly unpleasant to look on, nor is he so god-like in his aspect to make humanity fall stunned at his feet. He's a normal guy. It's about a sort of privacy, I think. He's afraid that his nudity will be construed as signal that it's ok to fantasize about him. He finds that objectionable.

I'm an art model. I stand naked in front of men and woman who look at me intently for long periods, and then draw my form. I don't have a problem with this-- in fact, I find it a truly empowering experience. I am fascinated by the whole process of drawing--and watching something emerge from paper and charcoal borders on the magical. I am also presented with a myriad of perspectives of my body, and it's interesting to see myself through other's eyes. I don't find it sexual. I doubt the artists and students find it sexual--I only have suspicions about one young man, and he seemed more embarrassed than lecherous about his condition.

But recently something happened that provides an odd perspective; for those that don't know it, I have rather long hair. It currently reaches to just below mid-back, within an inch or two of my waist. I had assumed a pose, and the instructor asked if I could put my hair up--it was obscuring my back. I thought a moment--I hadn't brought my hair clip this time, but I had brought pencils and paper to draw the next model in the next session. I had left them on the ledge of the floor-to-ceiling window.

I jumped down from the large box to go get them to use like chopsticks to hold my hair in a tight bun. And stopped before I got there. This was in a Second floor room, with huge windows that let in lots of light. I was far enough back that I was reasonably sure that I could not be seen from the parking lot below, nor the greensward beyond that. However, if I went to the ledge I would be in full view of a pack of young males who were joking and shoving one another outside.

I stepped back, covering myself. Then I straightened, turned to one of the art students (a young man who sadly doubted his ability to draw) and said "would you get me one of the pencils from that tray over there? I don't want to stand next to the window naked." There were some soft chuckles. No one outright laughed, but the implication was clear: If I could stand in front of these students naked, why should it bother me to stand in front of the window?

I'm old enough to be those kids' mother. I sag in the belly, I have skinny legs, and time is taking it's toll on my skin. Was I afraid that those boys in the parking lot would lust after me? No. I was afraid they would think I was old and fat and sagging, and ugly. But I wasn't afraid of the art students thinking that. The difference lies in the situation. The art students were creating, and were perceiving without judging. Yes, I looked old, and fat and sagging in their pictures. But at the same time, I looked beautiful on those bits of paper.

(For those of you have seem me in the flesh, kindly do not contradict me. I'm talking about my perceptions, and I know they are not the same as everyone else's.)

Now for another situation. I found out that a good friend of mine was chosen to be the new queen at the Renn Faire I perform at each summer. She works at Miko's, an "exotic wear" store in Providence. Yes, it has adult novelties, a wide selection of very good books on human sexuality, a nice collection of erotica and porn (both printed books, and videos) and also a goodly selection of corsets of various styles and construction. So I went to visit Kat to congradulate her on winning the role, and to try on corsets. You see, I've put on a few pounds, and I'd like to be able to fit into my rather expensive garb this summer; I would also like to be able to fit into other gowns as well, and the compression of a corset will enable that. I also love the support a corset provides to the diaphram while singing; It's a nice counter pressure, sort of like bracing your legs to push a heavy object. And yeah, I'll admit to a desire to have the sort of smooth, slimmer curves a corset can provide. So here I am in the small dressing closet with Kat--it's too small to keep the door closed when dealing with long laces of corsets. It's in a back room with displays of stockings and various pantyhose and tights. This is a store that is frequented by entertainers of all sorts, not only exotic dancers. It's not unusual to see costumers from local theaters buying things for productions. As I'm standing there topless, a man wearing a long coat and carrying a big bag walks into the display room. Cat is standing behind me, and I am facing the mirror in the back of the dressing closet. I hold the corset to me--it hasn't been laced yet.

This man circles the room. And again. And again. Kat and I wait. And wait. And wait. We aren't moving. I have the following assumptions: That man was NOT there to make a decision on tights for a cross-dressing show he was participating in. He was scoping the place out for a means of sexual gratification, and if he didn't have to pay for it, all the better. He had caught a glimpse of me trying on a corset, and wanted to see more.

Do I have something to hide? No. He was trying to invade my privacy. The fact that the dressing room door was open was NOT an invitation to look. It was open for pragmatic reasons.

Kat, bless her, managed to challenge him in a non-threatening manner.
"Is that your toy bag you have?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
"I just had a sort of suspicion, the way you were holding it".
"Oh, so you were curious about it?"
"No, I just had a suspicion about it, that's all. I'm not curious about what's in it."
"I have a cab waiting outside, and I didn't want to leave this bag in it."
*chuckle* "I can understand that."
He turned and left with a simple "Bye, now."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

How am I different from my online friend? We both don't want to be thought of in lustful ways. My friend states that his motivation is concern for his viewer's soul. My motivation is personal. I simply don't want to be subjected to an awareness of his lust for me. He can wank off all he wants when he gets home. I don't consent to participate the sexual implications of him standing there to watch me try on corsets. And by hovering, he was forcing his attentions on me. I resent that.

How does this tie in with privacy on a wider scale?

"Security" is a lie. Just how does bullying hotels, casinos and airlines into giving up lists of passengers and guests and gamblers help "security"? The amount of information is ridiculous. There was no verified threat of terrorist activity in Las Vegas during the time frame they wanted records for. The Government is hovering, just like that man. This isn't about security, it's about building a database of people who gamble in Las Vegas. The government has no right to that information, it has no "need to know". Remember: In America, everyone is presumed innocent until proven guilty and everything is legal until it is specifically made illegal. The fact that I was trying on corsets does not equate to consenting to being watched for sexual stimulation. The fact that I want to gamble does not equate to consenting to being put on a database of information for unknown purposes.

The argument "if you have nothing to hide, you shouldn't be worried about it" is not valid. Do I REALLY have something to hide from those boys in the parking lot? Do I REALLY have something to hide from that man in Miko's? Do I really have something to hide from the government? No. I have the right to PRIVACY, however. I don't want my body being mocked or ridiculed, I don't want to be an unwilling participant in someone else's sexual gratification, and I don't want the Government creating a database of information on me and every other citizen against my will, without my consent, at my expense, to be used against me should someone ever take a dislike to me. If I am innocent, why should my life, my purchases, my travel, my credit, my debts be catalogued for use by the government? And I AM innocent until proven guilty.

Hiding isn't the issue. I have the RIGHT to privacy regarding my actions because they can be misconstrued, mocked, or misused. Even from the government. Especially BY the government. And the argument of "it's for your safety" hasn't been substantiated. You see, for the government, it's exactly the opposite: You MUST prove the worth and goodness of a law before you can enact it; You have to prove a citizen guilty before you can imprison hir.

Comments

[djfiggy.livejournal.com]

Is this why you want me on the argument shop?

Re:

[ambitious-wench.livejournal.com]

If you think you could learn something from this sort of thing, yes. If you think you can make a better arguement, for or against, the a resounding YES!

If you find this more sexually stimulating than intellectually stimulating, then you're better off joining vintage_sex.

Auntie Ambitious

Re:

[ambitious-wench.livejournal.com]

vintage_sex

AW

Re:

[djfiggy.livejournal.com]

Actually, it's confusing and scary. I don't want to look at it.

Re:

[ambitious-wench.livejournal.com]

Were you referring to vintage_sex, or to the Argy-Bargy Shop, or both?

Not to worry. When one gets boring and tedious, the other will become more attractive. Trust me.

And you have good friends in both places who will answer questions.
Edie