How lolita fashion helped me let go of internalised misogyny

Hello and thank you for clicking on this clickbaity title. In this post I will explore how lolita fashion has enabled me to let go of much of my internalised misogyny. Because as many femme people out there will know, this is 100% the type of shit that is drilled into us whilst growing up that we then have to do our own work to undo and unlearn, regardless of what gender we may be and what culture we may have grew up in (though some will have more to do in that field than others).

Let’s start out with quick-fire definitions: what is internalised misogyny? Misogyny is defined as “dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women”. This means that internalised misogyny are ideas, thoughts, behaviours that are intrinsically prejudiced against women that we have absorbed and accepted without questioning, usually as a result of the environment we live in (both immediate, like family, friends, school etc., and indirect, like the media we consume).

Whilst there is a lot written about internalised misogyny, what it is, how it manifests itself, what we can do to dismantle it etc., ultimately everyone is on their own journey in dismantling that. For some people this will involve reclaiming tasks that many societies view as traditionally feminine such as cooking, while others will focus on building positive and meaningful relationships with other women.

For me the clearest manifestations of my internalised misogyny were definitely on the “I’m not like other girls” and the “I don’t like pink” sides. I was fortunate enough to not fall too hard into the trope of women having to be competition to each other (though there was certainly work on that front to be done too) and growing up during times when unpacking the traditional gender roles was happening in Western societies anyway made that easier for me. But I certainly spent my fair share being “not like other girls” and making that my personality, whilst at the same time being massively conflicted with myself because of wanting the things that “other girls” were supposed to want like that fairytale romance and wanting to be valued for the things that women were “supposed” to be valued for. (A whole other thing, albeit linked, but intelligent and nerdy girls out there will surely understand what I mean and maybe even relate to the feeling of wanting to hear that we’re beautiful.)

As I keep saying every time this comes up, my discovery of lolita fashion very closely followed my discovery of the world of burlesque and rockabilly/retro/vintage fashions. Those were my actual first gateways into a world where beauty expanded beyond the mainstream ideals, as burlesque shows and the alternative fashion scene includes women of literally all body shapes, of all ages, of all skin colours - and is championed mostly by other women! I literally cannot stress enough how elating it was to be in a room packed with people, maybe 70-80% of whom presented femme, cheering and whooping another femme on stage whose body looked a lot more like mine: a roll on the belly, thighs that meet, a bum that jiggles. This was probably the closest I’ve ever come, as a white cis woman, to understanding first hand why representation matters and what it’s like to feel seen. And it also filled me with a sense of female solidarity - here was a room mostly full of women who were celebrating a feminine body that differed from what we see in mainstream women’s media instead of criticising, ridiculing or trying to fix it.

Stepping into the world of lolita fashion from that springboard was invaluable as that experience equipped me with the confidence that being feminine is not only acceptable, but celebrated by other feminine people, with that sense of solidarity and peace that women aren’t just going to cattily tear me apart for not meeting some arbitrary standard of beauty. For all the perceived cattiness of the lolita community, the people that I have actually interacted with were always nothing but supportive and shared in my enthusiasm for the fashion, willing to offer a kind word or some help, and ready to cheer me on because we were part of the same niche fashion club. This is why my heart breaks a little every time I see or hear someone say that they’re scared to join their local lolita community - because from my experience it sounds as if they’ve accepted the stereotype perpetuated and exaggerated by a handful of loud individuals online as facts and are missing out on one of the most empowering experiences and one of the most uplifting communities that I have ever had in my own life.

However, the lolita community, whilst undoubtedly a massive part of the process of dismantling my own internalised misogyny, is still but one part. Yes, the people that I have met this way are on the whole feminist in their opinions, overall politically left-leaning, as well as intelligent and knowledgeable about all sorts of things. Just like representation matters to make individuals feel seen and valid, meeting fellow femme folk who are unabashedly hyperfeminine in their self-expression without losing anything of their core values, their feminism, even their independence helped ground those ideas in my head. That to look feminine doesn’t mean that I am a victim of the patriarchy and that therefore my opinions or values are in any way lesser.

Yet the fashion itself, the very clothes upon which this community is built, have also played a role in highlighting how many misogynistic messages I’ve internalised throughout my life. Misogyny often implies or even outright states that femininity equals weakness - but it takes guts of steel and a lot of nerve to wear something this outlandishly feminine out on the street. Not only that, this type of self-expression is the one that makes me confident in my own body, something which the majority of mainstream women’s fashion trends consistently failed to do, often because they were designed to do so in the first place (exhibit A: clothing sizes). There is both physical and emotional comfort in knowing that my body is allowed to change, as is normal for it to do so, and the majority of my clothes will adapt thanks to forgiving cuts and features such as shirring, which many contemporary mainstream clothes do not include. And for all the attention that I undoubtedly attract whenever I do leave the house, it really is empowering to be in control of why I attract this attention, to know that despite a degree of fetishisation that we experience, people see me for what I choose to present and decide why they see me, even if I cannot control their subsequent judgement based on that. My clothes loudly proclaim that I am femme and proud of it - that’s a power move and a kick in the balls for the patriarchy and misogyny.

Of course, internalised misogyny is an extremely complex subject. If it takes years to subconsciously absorb those messages, then it could take equally as many to consciously rid yourself of them. No one thing has the power to dismantle these things, particularly whilst we continue to live within a society that is still rife with internalised misogyny projecting at us from the usual places like advertisements. The world is getting better, but nowhere near fast enough, especially not compared to the progress that an individual is able to make. I myself am not there yet in terms of letting that shit go. I might never be. But I continue to work on that every day by cultivating positive interactions with other femme people, by calling myself out on thoughts that stem from society drilling them into me, and by reminding myself that what a person looks like says nothing of their character or opinions. And lolita fashion helps me along in that journey, both by dismantling internalised misogyny within me and by allowing me to see it in the outside world.