Women’s Greatest Performance; The Internalised Male Gaze
The moment I realised I wasn’t just living for myself but for some imagined male audience I had mustered up in my head, I was horrified and honestly, ashamed. Did this make me less of a feminist? Who taught me this? Why am I doing this? Am I even being my true self?
First things first, let’s define what the ‘male gaze’ is. The term, coined by film critic and feminist theorist Laura Mulvey, describes the act of viewing the world and women, whether it be through visual art or literature (or in our case, real life) through the male, heterosexual perspective. It reserves and represents women as sexual objects for a man’s viewing pleasure. Think of female superheroes who always have to be sexy or the manic pixie dream girl, whose only purpose is to further the male character’s narrative. We grow up seeing the characters we’re supposed to relate to through a stern male lens and thus, these views become internalised. Even though “male gaze” is a term used in film theory, we must remember that art imitates reality.
For most of my existence I have been catering to some spectator whose opinion I have held to a higher regard than my own. This internalised male gaze is so nuanced that I didn’t even register I was doing it. But I was and it was affecting everything. Every aspect of my daily life from what I ate, how I dressed, the personality I presented (always the “cool girl”), the hobbies I had, the songs I listened to, the media I consumed; were all subconscious decisions that I believed would best align with and please these “powerful all-seeing men”.
Margaret Atwood puts it best in her novel The Robber Bride:
“Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it’s all a male fantasy: that you’re strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren’t catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you’re unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur.”
Do you feel called out? I did. We are constantly objectifying our own appearances and actions through the perspective of a non-existent male audience. And if you’re reading this thinking well I don’t do that, you probably do; you just don’t realise it.
Have you ever walked down the street, overanalysed every move you made and thought about how the men walking by would perceive you? Or been sat alone in a coffee shop wondering if you appear the right amount of mysterious that someone will find you intriguing? Or put on an outfit and wondered if it makes you look slutty, almost like you’d be “asking for it”? Or feeling like absolute shit, completely run-down and hungover but still popping on a bit of makeup to nip to Tesco? Or been completely alone in your room, maybe even studying, but still feel the need to perform your femininity and look pretty? Or continuing to shave your whole body in lockdown even though the only people you’ve seen in two weeks are your mum and your sister? Knock, knock. That’s the internalised male gaze at the door.
This phenomenon has even trickled into the way we use social media. Platforms, like Instagram, with the original purpose of sharing experiences and candid moments with your followers and friends are now fraught with self-promotional idealism. These photos must be edited with filters and uploaded at the perfect time to maximise interaction and likes. Before it can be seen, it needs to be made desirable.
It’s not even surprising that we do this. From a young age, women are taught that a man’s ‘gaze’ is valued more in society and this is further engrained through our experiences, media, workplace and home life. The ‘woman’ is viewed as an object of fascination, turning the body into a commodification; a vessel for marketing. Always comes back to capitalism, doesn’t it? It’s how the patriarchy exploit you, make you insecure, bottle up the solution and charge you 40 quid for it.
So, you’re living in your own hellish version of The Truman Show, now what? This internalised male gaze is a facet of the patriarchy and, good news, you can learn to reject it. Realising what you’re doing is the first step to overcoming this; think of it as catching yourself out. Train yourself to see the ‘gaze’ everywhere; in TV shows, adverts, films, conversations and media. By actively acknowledging this phenomenon it allows you to be objective and see where these standards translate into your own life. We need to start talking openly and honestly about this. By finding solidarity in other women’s experiences we can feel less alone. Take the pressure off yourself; let yourself be free.
Written by Amy Grantham
Amy is currently in her 3rd year studying Sociology and hopes to pursue a career in journalism after graduation. When she's not in soul-numbing breakout zooms, she can be found scrolling aimlessly through tikok and depop.
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