O n Thursday, April 17, 1997, I sat in a small crowd listening to the stories of women who wanted to "take back the night." There stood those who had had the most horrible, violent experiences as children and as adults--my stomach turned with the reminder that a hidden pain thrives within our "safe" Harvard community. Reality can be cruel even when we don't want to believe such dangers exist in "our worlds." I myself feel uneasy as I walk back from the river at night, even when it isn't so late. What can we do to stop the violence? we, the women, ask. Why are we the only ones asking? It is not just the problem of the women who have been victims, those who have survived, and those who carry the experiences of others within themselves. The voices echoing through the tear-soaked microphone say, "We are all responsible. Violence against women is not just a crime against women; it is a crime against all people. We are all susceptible." So I thought we had taken back the night, that people had been listening, that the loud shouts in the yard of women who refused to be victims had been heard. Indeed, the shouts were heard by those who were open to listen, but they bounced off those who think they are immune to random acts of violence and sexual aggression.
On Saturday, April 19, 1997, I attended Eleganza along with a group of eight girlfriends. Two friends were going to be in the show, so we all decided to go. It wasn't until the display of ladies' lingerie that I started feeling the frustration rise within me. Strutting down the stage were nearly naked first-year women accompanied by male escorts. Granted, the men were fashioning boxer shorts, but that did not reduce my shock at this demeaning and misogynistic presentation of women. The row in front of me barked in affirmation as the women strutted down the runway in diaphanous night shirts and lacy nightgowns. Yes, these women were beautiful. The show was intended to "support the ladies of 2G, as they prove that their steps are as tight as those of the '99 Girlz." Instead of the steps of the dancing models, I envisioned the steps of Memorial Church where, only two days before, I had rallied for women, against sexual abuse, against violence.
I was shocked, but I wondered what was intended by the fanfare. According to friends involved in its production and performance, the goal of Eleganza--purposely scheduled to coincide with prefrosh weekend--was to demonstrate to prefrosh what Harvard students are like, particularly to prospective Black members of the Harvard community. Able to select which scenes they were to be in, the models in the show were not forced to wear clothes that they did not feel comfortable wearing. The Designer scene was the only exception. Due to logistical conflicts, the models received their attire on the day of the show. The designer decided how the models were to wear each outfit, in one case with almost nothing on underneath. He was a real designer. Real models don't wear underwear.
From the audience I heard loud hoots during the lingerie scene, a scene which contained not only modeling but choreographed acting. Some imitated intimate sexual gestures. At one point, a male model carried off one of the women in his arms. The designer scene elicited the greatest screams when a model walked out with, essentially, only a sheer dress on. Some referred to the lingerie scene as scandalous, almost downplaying through comedy the blatant sexual overtones underlying the entire scene. But it wasn't funny, especially not to the women out there who would give anything for society to stop dehumanizing women by reducing them to America's dream of a sexually active Barbie. I respect the fact that women take pride in their bodies and want to parade them on the stage. However, Eleganza, while being an interesting and lively performance, did nothing to cultivate images of women as anything more than sexual objects, the crucifixion of which so many of us have been struggling to free ourselves.
A close friend of mine said to me while walking after the show, "I thought I just took back the night and they took it away from me again." For years, feminists have been trying to combat the degradation of women. Eleganza reminded me that perhaps we have not taught anyone anything; maybe only the survivors and those who feared becoming victims themselves someday were listening. The cries of those who spoke out with such courage only two days before were drowned out by the blaring music, the hoots of delight, the parading bodies, and the showcase of women on display to the seemingly harmless community of witnesses. How can we expect the world to see us differently if women are still helping to propagate that same vision--a vision of fragility, superficial beauty, and overt sexuality? I have no hard evidence that such images fuel violence against women, but I'm willing to bet these suggestive portraits become imprinted in the heads of many, even if we'd rather pretend it's not true.