All you have to do, really, is add a hyphen and the word “shaming” to any account of an undesirable situation, and you can transform an everyday annoyance into a powerful social commentary about the status of women. — Robyn Urback on the scourge of sweat-
Latest ‘shaming’ outrage is not a women’s issue
Rejoice, ladies, there is a new formula that, when applied, can be used to afford significance to virtually any offhand or unwelcome comment you might receive. Did someone flip you off on the highway? Fantastic! Call it “drive-shaming,” which I’ll define as a phenomenon whereby women’s actions behind the wheel are disproportionately criticized based on the assumption that women are poor drivers, and suddenly you have a social justice buzzword that can be used to breed a collection of sanctimonious personal essays or “drive-in” protests outside provincial licensing offices.
Did the waiter at a restaurant come too soon to collect your plate? Swell! This is obvious “hunger-shaming,” wherein women are assumed to have diminutive appetites, such that they adhere to our society’s conception of “ladies” as delicate and refined. And did someone cut in front of you at the bank? Aha: this is flagrant, deliberate and unacceptable “rank-shaming,” or else, the manifestation of our collective disregard for women’s status outside the home.
All you have to do, really, is add a hyphen and the word “shaming” to any account of an undesirable situation, and you can transform an everyday annoyance into a powerful social commentary about the status of women. Easy-peasy.
Though I just made up the terms “drive-shaming,” “hunger-shaming” and “rank-shaming,” for all I know they are, at this very moment, being non-ironically discussed somewhere deep in the depths of the Internet, or else, in undergraduate seminars across the nation. One phrase that is enjoying a wealth of mainstream attention, however, is the term “sweat-shaming,” which Amy Roe in The Guardian recently defined as, “When someone points out your sweatiness as a way to signal disapproval.”
“Like its counterparts,” Roe explained, “slut-shaming and fat-shaming, sweat- shaming is aimed mainly at women, who are actually not supposed to sweat at all.”
Roe took to the newspaper to explain when she became the victim of a sweat-shaming confrontation. It happened after she completed a 12-mile run, which left her visibly sweaty, and she went into a Starbucks to order a coffee. According to Roe’s report, a woman there turned to her and said, “You look like you just did a class.” And then, “Or swimming?” That was it. Roe was so distraught that she skipped past the milk counter and took her coffee black.
“Once safely inside my car, I threw off my damp running cap and flipped up the hood of my sweatshirt in embarrassment. I wanted to dive deep into that Lululemon Scuba and never come back up for air,” she wrote.
It seems as though Roe’s account has lifted the veil on the plight of sweat-shaming victims everywhere. Indeed, how many times have you, dear reader, offered a sweaty runner a glass of water without thinking of how the suggestion might affect her feelings? Why is it that a sweaty woman is something that must be corrected? And how many other sweat-shaming casualties are c urrently brooding alone in t heir vehicles, sipping on coffees for which they intended to add milk, but could not bear an extra moment in the presence of their oppressors?
There is just one minor snag with Roe’s grandstanding about our society’s intolerance for sweaty women: sweaty men are made the target of jokes or criticism just about all the time. During the Republican leadership debate last month, f or example, s ocial media lit up with quips about Marco Rubio’s shiny forehead and Mike Huckabee’s dripping brow. After last year’s Rome Film Festival, news and gossip sites hurriedly plastered photos of Richard Gere’s pit-stained appearance. And virtually all of former Toronto mayor Rob Ford’s tenure was marked by descriptions of his glistening face, damp shirt and sweaty palms.
This is not a “women’s issue.” This is not even an issue: sometimes people are jerks. Sometimes they are ignorant. And sometimes they’re just trying to make polite chit-chat in the line at Starbucks. Not everything is evidence of the supposed subjugation of women in everyday life. I’d suggest we don’t sweat the small stuff, but that might be taken the wrong way.