For most of my life, I thought of myself as savvy; a hustler. I understood that I had a commodifiable asset, something the world valued, and I was proud to have built a life and career off my body. All women are objectified and sexualised to some degree, I figured, so I might as well do it on my own terms. I thought that there was power in my ability to choose to do so.
Today I look at interviews from that period of my life and feel a tenderness toward my younger self. My defensiveness and defiance are palpable to me now. What I wrote and preached then reflected what I believed at the time, but it missed a much more complicated picture. In many ways, I have been undeniably rewarded by capitalising on my sexuality. I became internationally recognisable, amassed an audience of millions, and have made more money through endorsements and fashion campaigns than my parents (an English professor and a painting teacher) ever dreamed of earning in their lifetimes. I built a platform by sharing images of myself and my body online, making my body and subsequently my name recognisable, which, at least in part, gave me the ability to publish this book.
But in other, less overt ways, I’ve felt objectified and limited by my position in the world as a so-called sex symbol. I’ve capitalised on my body within the confines of a cis-hetero, capitalist, patriarchal world, one in which beauty and sex appeal are valued solely through the satisfaction of the male gaze. Whatever influence and status I’ve gained were only granted to me because I appealed to men. My position brought me in close proximity to wealth and power and brought me some autonomy, but it hasn’t resulted in true empowerment. That’s something I’ve gained only now, having written these essays and given voice to what I’ve thought and experienced.
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This book is full of the ideas and realities that I was unwilling to face, or perhaps incapable of facing, earlier in life. I had made a practice of dismissing experiences that were painful or incongruent with what I wanted to believe: that I was the living testament of a woman empowered through commodifying her image and body. Facing the more nuanced reality of my position was a difficult awakening – brutal and shattering to an identity and a narrative I’d desperately clung to. I was forced to face some ugly truths about what I understood as important, what I thought love was, what I believed made me special, and to confront the reality of my relationship with my body.
I’m still grappling with how I feel about sexuality and empowerment. The purpose of this book is not to arrive at answers, but honestly to explore ideas I can’t help but return to. I aim to examine the various mirrors in which I’ve seen myself; men’s eyes, other women I’ve compared myself to, and the countless images that have been taken of me. These essays chronicle the deeply personal experiences and subsequent awakening that defined my twenties and transformed my beliefs and politics.
My Body by Emily Ratajkowski is published by Quercus in hardback on 9 November.
