It is 2025, and do you think it would be remotely possible for these online trolls (quite literally) to stop shaming women for their attire? Oh, neither do I. But what is the need to be empathetic when the anonymity of these social media accounts (the new criminals’ lair) gives you the much-needed cover to spout the worst kind of venom on women you barely know.
Honey Rose’s issue is not a first and, sadly, it will not be the last. Recently, Bella Hadid’s Saint Laurent mesh dress, which had “her boobs on display” (not my words), outraged the oh-so-fragile modesty of the internet. Trolls find it acceptable to say the most atrocious things about Urfi Javed because she dresses “like that”. Like what, brother? Let’s talk about your clothes first. The vile, pukeworthy garb of misogyny is also the only real problem.
Women: The good, the bad, and the ugly
“In a world ordered by sexual imbalance, pleasure in looking has been split between active/male and passive/female. The determining male gaze projects its phantasy onto the female figure, which is styled accordingly. In their traditional exhibitionist role, women are simultaneously looked at and displayed, with their appearance coded for strong visual and erotic impact so that they can be said to connote to-be-looked-at-ness,” Laura Mulvey writes in her text about the “male gaze” in visual narratives like cinema.
The objectification and passivation of the female self (reduced to their body) give patriarchy the power to assume control over dictating and deciding for women and shaming them for alleged transgression.
Honey Rose has shown commendable dignity in the face of slut-shaming her for her sartorial choices and has been courageous enough to call out men, who also come from positions of power.
The thing about clothes is that it does not stop; the morbid curiosity seeps into making damaging “assumptions” about these women’s characters. In earlier news, Urfi Javed flamed the contestants of India’s Got Latent for their blatantly misogynistic and borderline abusive comments, all in the guise of a roast.
Malaika Arora cannot do yoga in peace, for patriarchy has not taught these redundant abominations to mind their own business. The internet’s reaction to Sydney Sweeney’s bikini pictures, taken without consent, reflects how normalised the abusive comments about women and their bodies are. The Kardashians and the Jenners are the lynchpins of these discussions, as anything about them essentially boils down to their face, bodies or outfits.
Demonising and shaming these women is a cinch as it does not involve acknowledging the underbelly of society and the social conditioning that forces their hand. In all these cases, it goes without saying that the body proportions of these women are examined and shamed in an appalling sense.
All women at one point, if not many, would have faced slut-shaming or victim blaming, for that is how everybody is taught to look at women — as objects you can control or, as patriarchy calls it, protect.
Grazia wrote, addressing Rose McGowan’s 1998 VMA appearance, “People are comfortable when women’s bodies are ‘on display’ if they are not the person choosing to do the displaying. Our nudity is fine, if it’s not autonomous.” Ita vero.
With everything being said, you are also never dressed enough. The modest woman is probably oppressed, and the indecent is, well, you know. The issue of control over what women wear has larger socio-cultural, economic, and political connotations. Robert E. Riegel argues that acceptable “feminine apparel” was consciously introduced to dampen women’s movements and to shackle them from “earning their living".
I keep thinking about what would happen if the tables were turned for once. What if this actor, a man, walks into a crowd to inaugurate a new shop? A pleasant day, indeed, and here comes the swarm of mobile phones and cameras vying to capture his “assets” peeking through, looking for the best inappropriate angle and the most juicy thumbnail. And you have a hoard of women sitting comfortably behind anonymous social media handles discussing his thighs purposefully on display and why he chose a sheer mundu on a sunny day instead of jeans.
Argh! Of course, for female attention! Isn’t that how they get all these films — doing you know what for you know who?
Oh well. Don’t forget to pit him in vitriol against the other, always modestly dressed actor. Well, blasphemous, to say the least.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not purport to reflect the opinions or views of THE WEEK.
