I rode away from the restaurant in high waisted vintage Levi’s, tears blubbering uncontrollably, and a black chiffon skirt tucked away in my basket. It was my fourth day, and I had quit. Though still visibly upset, my change of clothes had helped to settle my nerves, and make me feel a sense of normalcy. It was fairly instinctual, the second I quit I marched to the washroom and changed. Though I personally liked the clothes I had been wearing, they now felt heavy to me — riddled with self doubt and embarrassment, sheepishly hiding in the bottom of a dark tote.

After being told to fix my messy hair — which apparently must have gotten out of place walking from the kitchen to the hostess desk — I was pulled aside. It was then that my co-worker gently pointed out that as the initial face of the restaurant, it was part of our job to look good. She elaborated that this meant that we (or I, rather) should wear something more form fitting — in other words, something a bit sexier. Suddenly my pleated chiffon skirt and ’80s button-front tunic felt like I was wearing an industrial-sized garbage bag.

Perhaps I had taken for granted the fact that my previous employer had fully embraced the way I chose to dress for work (though admittedly it was a bit of a stretch on the company standard). Years of incorporating my own personal style into my work wardrobe had caused me to ignore the reality that in some work environments, maybe I wouldn’t be afforded the luxury of wearing clothing that simultaneously fit both my employer’s and my own dress code. In that moment, standing in the middle of the restaurant in clothes that had once made me feel confident in my appearance, I decided that for me, this was not a reality.

I had always known how important my own personal style was to me, but I never quite knew to what extent until it became endangered. A few reassuring conversations with friends, and one tear stained and clarifying bicycle ride down Queen St. later, and I have come to be proud of my decision. Working in an environment that makes me feel apologetic about the way I dress isn’t an option. In the moment my self-esteem was in slivers, all over someone’s disapproval of my clothing. I walked out the swinging kitchen doors, and into my own miniature personal style revolt. I never thought quitting a job could be a fashion statement.

text by Casie Brown

On April 3, 2011, thousands of people walked the streets of Toronto dressed in whatever they wanted in response to comments from a member of Toronto’s police force who told them they shouldn’t. By now, we (hopefully) all know the SlutWalk story: Toronto Police Constable Michael Sanguinetti told a class at York University that women should avoid dressing “like sluts” in order to protect themselves from being sexually victimized. This comment provoked some much-needed attention and shed light on issues that have long been present in our society but are often overlooked — victim-blaming and slut-shaming among them.

Since Toronto’s SlutWalk, at least 25 similar protests have been organized in cities around the world. From Twitter to the blogosphere to The Globe and Mail, it seems like everyone has something to say about the movement.

What to read:

An interview with Sonya Barnett and Heather Jarvis, co-founders of Toronto’s SlutWalk on Feministing.com.

“At SlutWalkTO, Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves” by Jaime Woo for Torontoist.

“The Best 30 Signs at SlutWalk Toronto” on BuzzFeed.

“On the street… at Slutwalk” by Sarah Nicole Prickett for EYE WEEKLY.

“Feminism and Fashion: The (Other) Two Solitudes” by Katrina Onstad for The Globe and Mail.

“The Funny Thing About the SlutWalk“ on ThoughtCatalog.com. And then editor Ryan O’Connell’s much-needed apology, “We’re So Sorry About ‘The Funny Thing About the SlutWalk.’”

“A Dress is Not a Yes — SlutWalking in Toronto” by our own Alyssa Garrison for the WORN blog.

Upcoming SlutWalks:

Dallas, TX (April 23)
Rochester, NY (May 7)
Vancouver, BC (May 15)
Waterloo, ON (May 15)
Riverside, CA (May 28)
Montreal, QC (May 29)
Edmonton, AB (June 4)
Chicago, IL (June 4)
Adelaide, Australia (June 11)
Portland, OR (June 11)
Seattle, WA (June 19)

For a full list of SlutWalks, click here.

Want to get involved? Attend an upcoming SlutWalk or organize one for your town. Fight for the countless victims of rape who have felt further victimized by authority figures who care what they were wearing when it happened. Fight for your right to feel safe and dress how you please.

- Stephanie Fereiro

Sluts from all walks of life took over College Street in Toronto last Sunday, chanting one resounding line: However we dress, wherever we go, yes means yes and no means no.

The protest march was sparked when local media caught wind of a statement made by a representative of the police force this January during a campus safety information session at York University. According to the school paper, the officer told female students they should avoid dressing like “sluts” to prevent becoming victims of assault.

City-wide, women and their allies were outraged. Not only was the officer’s comment an attack on rape victims, it was an attack on women’s right to wear whatever they want. The idea that women who dress provocatively are “asking for it” is everywhere in pop culture, from crime shows to video games. Sonya Barnett, a SlutWalk co-founder, was already tired of the primitive stereotypes surrounding women and their appearances in the media. For her, the police officer’s sexist statement was a call to action.

“Women, and any gender identification, have the right to wear what pleases them, not the obligation to wear what pleases another. It’s important to make that distinction,” said Barnett.

Barnett and several others immediately began organizing a peaceful protest.Volunteers were summoned, a website was launched, t-shirts and buttons were made. By the time April arrived, over 3000 people had clicked ‘attending’ on the facebook page. The invitation was compelling:

“SlutWalk Toronto is asking you to COME AS YOU ARE. If you want to wear fishnets, great. If you want to wear parkas, that’s just as great. Any gender-identification, any age. Singles, couples, parents, sisters, brothers, children, friends. No matter how you visually identify, come walk with us. And we’re welcoming ALL those who feel that prevailing attitudes as to why sexual assault happens need to change: WHETHER YOU’RE A SLUT OR AN ALLY, come walk, roll, holler or stomp with us.”

Freedom of dress was one of the main reasons behind the protest. The statement that women can avoid assault by dressing conservatively not only suggests men have no control over themselves, but challenges women’s rights to choose whatever clothing they see fit. It removes the power women have been given to express themselves, creating propaganda against “slutty” clothing and perpetuating fear. And what is “dressing like a slut” anyway, officer? Barnett has a few ideas.

“Over the last century, people have had ’slut’ tossed at them based on their appearance, but the physical manifestation changes conveniently over time. ‘Slutty’ clothing 80 years ago was wildly different, and by today’s standards, incredibly conservative. Revealing cleavage in some societies is considered slutty, while revealing your ankles in another is just as slutty. It’s all subjective. It’s a constructed concept that sex and appearance are not exclusive. Decisions are made by some to judge others. The thought never crosses their minds that what one may find sexy or slutty, another can find to be the opposite. It’s an easy out for those that can’t conceive the notion that sex and appearance can, in fact, be exclusive,” she said.

At 1:30p.m. on Sunday, April 3rd, an estimated crowd of 3000 gathered outside the Ontario legislative building at Queen’s Park. The throng contained steam punks, fathers, queer folk, slutty dogs, roller-derby girls, grandmothers, and everyone in between. Regardless of what they wore, attendees had one thing in common; they were all ready to fight for the right to wear what they want. Signs littered the crowd, sending out messages of sadness, frustration, and hope; more than one told of personal rape experiences.

Barnett explained the meaning of the name “SlutWalk” to the excited crowd, urging women to reclaim the word “slut” and take away any negative connotation it has held in the past to help put an end to “slut shaming”. Barnett also reinforced the point that being a slut isn’t a form of dress, but an empowering attitude that anyone can employ at any time, regardless of appearance.

“Whether you’re wearing blue jeans, rollerblades, saris, tuxedos or tube tops, sexual assault is a crime of power!” Barnett roared through her megaphone.

With that, the throng was off. Within seconds, College street was filled with people from sidewalk to sidewalk. The crowd appeared to stretch endlessly through the city.

For me, the experience was irreplaceable. Seeing so many people take time out of their sunny Sunday afternoons to rebel against sexism and dress stereotypes was both inspiring and needed. One sign I read instantly had me blinking back tears: “X-mas 1985, 14-years-old, bundled in layers. How did I deserve it?” The fact that authorities could even imply that victims could have avoided their attack by dressing differently not only shows assault survivors that their crime wasn’t taken seriously, but perpetuates fear of reporting such crimes in the future. The idea that anyone invited sexual assault, whether sporting leather and fishnets or an Amish bonnet and prairie skirt, is absurd and unfair. NO ONE, no matter what their appearance, age or gender, wants to experience sexual assault, to any degree. EVER.

Here at WORN, we encourage both staff and readers to wear whatever they want, free of judgement. As a feminist fashion publication, we think the notion that the way a woman dresses could increase her chances of being raped is archaic, incorrect and insulting. There is no relationship between clothing and violent crimes like assault, and women shouldn’t be made to feel that something they feel good wearing could be putting them in danger. Whether donning stilettos or steel toes, women should ALWAYS feel safe, and should NEVER have to question their clothing choices because of how they might be treated if they show too much skin. Women are NEVER asking for violence, and suggesting they are is just another form of oppression women and their allies need to fight.

“Oppression comes in all forms, and one of the easiest is based on attacking another’s appearance,” Barnett said. “We can counter that by choosing what to wear, when to wear it and where to wear it, proving that someone else’s opinion has no bearing.”

- Alyssa Garrison

Fur is in, let’s face it. And it’s controversial. With many designers and celebrities passionately advocating or denouncing it (think GaGa’s dead Kermit outfit), PETA targeting high-profile designers like Michael Kors and Isaac “All I want to do is wear fur pants!” Mizrahi, and the United States Humane Society loudly exposing the false labeling of raccoon dog hides as faux, the debate about fur has far from abated. The issue runs deeper than animal rights, however, and fur’s connotations with fetishism, feminism and functionality are pervasive and date back hundreds of years. The Cultural Politics of Fur is an academic account of the many social dimensions of this notorious commodity, a fashion as old as our species.

The book is framed by contemporary discussions of fur, covering fur-related campaigns (Diesel advertising for and Lynx protesting against), its role as the main source of income for First Nations peoples, and the symbolic implications of women wearing fur fashions. The majority of the text, however, is devoted to history, discussing sumptuary legislations about fur and its representations in fine art prior to the 19th century, as well as to the masochistic connotations of fur fetishism, especially in Venus in Furs. In these sections, Emberley frequently wanders onto topics that are barely relevant to her discussions of fur, such as object representation in fine art, the historical shift in the image-text relationship during the 20th century, and the exclusion of First Nations people from organized labour. While these topics are applicable, too much time is spent on extraneous details, and the book begins to feel long and disjointed. Specific films like The Joyless Street and Paris is Burning are used illustrate certain points, but when Emberley relays every detail and plotline I began to think her arguments would stand better on their own.

Aside from these self-indulgent ramblings, Emberley sheds light on feminist perspectives of fur’s connotations throughout history. Since commodities like fur denote decadence and wealth, affluent women seek to gain symbolic agency through conspicuous consumption, but this can also disempower the majority of women as the positions they aspire to become are increasingly associated with narcissism and compliance to social norms. She notes that “it is one of the contradictory aspects of symbolic agency that the price to be paid for symbolic power is continuing representation by cultural studies theorists and advertising agencies alike of the female bourgeois woman as passive, stupid – and spectacularly so.” Emberley argues that when women rely on material objects for power, they situate themselves and their bodies as commodities, items to be traded in a “libidinal exchange.” It is not only those who advocate and wear fur who perpetuate this cycle, but also anti-fur campaigners like Lynx that target mostly white, bourgeois women with slogans like “It takes up to 40 dumb animals to make a fur coat. But only one to wear it.” Although Lynx is now extinct, PETA has recently been using similar techniques and recruiting celebrities for their “I’d rather go naked than wear fur” and “I always fake it” campaigns.

I would have liked a bit more modern context for the arguments in The Cultural Politics of Fur, as I felt that too much of the book was spent on minor details with little contemporary relevance. Fur is a passionately divisive subject, and while skimming discussion boards for this piece it became pretty obvious that the majority of advocates for either side are misinformed (“It is a myth that the fur industry kills live animals!”). An all-encompassing text like this could be very useful if it was brought up-to-date and made more accessible.

The Cultural Politics of Fur by Julia V. Emberley, McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1997

Reviewed by Jenny Knoll
Photos by Todd Bolton