Bibliotheca: Defiant femininity

And, right under the wire, it's the Bibliotheca post! This theme is defiance, which has a lot of pertinence in the current moment in D.C. I'm going to ignore these relevant reasons and instead focus on something simpler: how can femininity be rebellious? 

Hard femininity

This section extensively discusses femininity in an American, cis female context. Even though I'm not a woman, lolita is mostly a women's fashion, so discussing women's femininity specifically is important background for the lolita experience. 

Back on Tumblr, around 2012-ish, I ran into the concept of "weaponized femininity", which can be crystallized into a Taylor Swift lyric from the 2022 song "Vigilante Shit":"Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man." I don't know if I've ever heard this song, but the confusing spirit of these lyrics was alive and well a decade before its release. 

The basic concept of weaponized femininity was the performance of conventional feminine behaviors-- makeup, dresses, high heels-- to an exaggerated extent in a way that men would find threatening, with the idea that this performance of femininity was somehow inherently feminist. This idea was met with discourse and ridicule: items like high heels and tight skirts, which physically limit the wearer's movement, can't reasonably be associated with physical freedom. More broadly, it was a branding exercise, turning consumption (of hyperfeminine clothing, makeup, and music) into a poorly-substantiated political statement. Specifically, all of these items were rooted in normative femininity, just heightened. The rebellion was in the drama alone. 

cover of the Taylor Swift album "Midnights"

 In my opinion, this was a reaction to older second wave feminism, the stereotypical bra-burning era. This period of feminism rejected conventional beauty standards as tools of patriarchy. Later feminisms emphasize individual choice: telling a woman not to wear makeup because it's "not feminist" is exactly as prescriptive as forcing her to wear the makeup, just in the opposite direction, so women should be free to choose what makes sense to them. This choice feminism can unfortunately lead into girlbossing. Plainly speaking, even though those choices do exist, they aren't equivalent, and framing the weaponized femininity's exaggerated performance (and reinforcement) of conventional femininity with the stereotypical feminist rejection of patriarchal feminine beauty standards is naive at best and a disingenuous marketing scheme at worst. 

Honestly, Taylor Swift, with her red lipstick, tons of male exes, and extensive private jet use, is a perfect symbol of this sort of hard femininity. If womanhood is a performance, Taylor Swift is its lead actress-- she does every feminine thing to a tee, but in an assertive way that feels empowering. Plus, her songs genuinely are bops. 

One (usually unremarked-upon) element of this aggressive-yet-normative femininity is how exclusionary it is. High-contrast makeup on white skin, tight clothes on thin curvy cis bodies, perfectly styled wavy hair-- these aren't accessible to many cis women, yet alone the grand spectrum of those who indulge in femininity. 

Lolita femininity 

So why is lolita fashion's exaggerated femininity different from girlboss weaponized femininity? Why do so many lolitas (myself included) consider it to be defiant in itself? 

Simple: Lolita isn't normal. 

 

Although lolita fashion is undoubtedly feminine, it's an alternative femininity. A lolita's size doesn't matter as long as their petticoat poofs out; their makeup can be anything from adorably cutesy to threateningly vampiric; their physical selves are hidden under confusing confections of ruffles and lace that threaten masculinity rather than appealing to it. In the Japanese magazine context, this alternative femininity that ignores male preference is associated with aomoji-kei, but that's not my lane to swerve into. 

 

Because of its abstraction, lolita is a femininity without boundaries, one accessible to anyone who can afford a dress. There is no patriarchal expectation for the lolita, and so they can be anyone under the clothes, as long as the coord is good.

 

Mana-sama performing, from Wikimedia Commons

I think that's part of what makes lolita so appealing to queer people-- we get to indulge in a pure femininity isolated entirely from patriarchal expectation. In a time of tradwife influencers and rising repression, lolita is a way for us to reclaim our own images. We're not agreeing with conventional femininity or opposing it at all because we're leaving the conversation entirely. 

 

In today's political moment, with regression to (revisionist and ahistorical) gender norms, performing femininity without the expectations of patriarchal womanhood is more important than ever. I am often tempted to withdraw, to recede, to be less than I am in order to not be seen by the armed National Guard at my Metro stop. But I'm too dumb for that. The more visible I am, the more joy I exude, the more freedom in my image, the better. No repressive project has the actual resources to censor and attack every defiant individual-- they need self-censorship to ensure compliance. 

  

I'm under no illusion that wearing lolita, alternatively feminine as it might be, will have a huge material influence on the world we live in. At the end of the day, it really is just clothes. But emotion and community are important-- we need more than physical survival. 

What about ouji?

Out of laziness, I haven't been writing much about ouji. It's hard! There aren't rules in the same way! It's not as straightforwardly feminine!

Ouji defies norms even within the alternative fashion space. It's an androgynous style that fluctuates within the spaces of gothic masculinities and sweet femininities, and everything in between. Lolita looks extremely girly, but that's all it is-- there's no ambiguity there, just femininity dialed up to 11, with any other ingredients in the gender soup added in by the wearer. There's (unfortunately) a tendency from people from outside of the lolita space to stereotype and sexualize our style, but ouji is obscure enough to typically avoid that.

Ouji's rejection of gendered expectations comes from its playful unpredictability. Regardless of the wearer, there's no way to wear the style without it looking at least a little fruity, and that's a major selling point to me. 

Does it matter?

I've been focusing this entire post on gender norms, which may seem trivial to some. After all, with everything going on, wearing ruffles seems like a meaningless distraction. As freedom of gender expression and equality are under attack near-constantly, it seems they must matter, otherwise their opponents would not be so single-mindedly committed to their destruction. 

I have to believe it's important. Lolita fashion brings me joy, it brings me friendship, and it matters to me. Every scrap of ground that people give to the idea that their passions don't matter and that their happiness is a mere distraction is another inch given to oppressive conformity. 

It's hard to respect my own feelings these days. But I don't want to let my heart be captured. Every little bit of happiness I retain, as a person whose mere existence is seen as a threat to power, is a tiny act of defiance.