Don’t Touch Me Else You Defile Me: The Paradox Of Female Body

The past two weeks or so have seen vigorous discussions and debate on social media regarding the altercation that happened between an undergraduate of Nnamdi Azikiwe University and a lecturer which led ultimately to the expulsion of the student. Those that have taken up gauntlet for the student have continued to push the argument that the lecturer had trampled on the right of the young girl to body autonomy by touching her “without her consent”, a situation they see as either diluting the girl’s culpability or completely absolving her of all guilt since she acted in “self-defence.” While I am yet to see the sense in this argument, I would not want to engage it this time in this column – at least for today – having done so elsewhere. However, I would only concern myself with one reality which that unfortunate incident had called my mind to once again – the fact that the idea of body autonomy comes up virtually only when a female person is involved. The right to body autonomy is, in this context, hardly conceded to men.

This is why it is more common to hear a woman complain of being touched than hear a man do so. Even the most innocent or accidental of touches provokes resentment from the female folks, young and old. I remember when, as an undergraduate, I was instructed by an authority in my department to go remove an announcement pasted on a notice board in our lecture hall as it contained an error. As I reached for the paper, a female classmate of mine standing close to the notice board blurted “don’t touch me!” She had mistaken my move, but such obsession with body autonomy by women is symptomatic of something wrong with our society’s sexual ethics. It is for the same reason that some people, while watching the viral video of the student-lecturer altercation, failed to see insubordination, rudeness and disrespect, but clearly saw breach of body autonomy.

But what many have seemingly failed to observe is the big paradox in the way society treats the female body. While it seeks to protect it from exposure, touch, or even look, it has at the same time continued to exploit it for lascivious pleasure by way of pornography, erotic dance, sexually appealing advertisements, and in fashion that exposes the body sexually. This sexualisation of the female body has also become internalized by the women themselves as they derive satisfaction and self-esteem in being sexualized; so they actively sexualize themselves in fashion, dance, body enhancement etc. Many women would feel complimented when told that they look “sexy” and would feel slighted if the opposite is suggested. This has a serious implication for sexual ethics, especially in the context of what is generally known as sexual assault and “touching without consent.” As earlier stated, all this is happening in the same culture that appears to protect female body from “defilement.”

Across human cultures, there is some guard built around the female body seemingly to protect it from intrusion. The female body is not to be freely seen or otherwise accessed. More extreme cases existed in some ancient cultures such as found in the Arabic Peninsula where women were veiled by way of wearing of hijab. This culture found its way into the religion of Islam where veiling becomes a fundamental element of feminine virtue (Holy Quran 24:30; 33:59). Further, a Moslem woman may dispense with hijab and go for full body veiling by way of niqab or burqa. Traditionally, Moslem women are not expected to do as much as shake hands with a man. To lesser degrees, many other cultures demand that the female body be very adequately covered and guarded. Public lavatories are arranged in such a way that “ladies” is less openly positioned than “gents”; the former is farther removed from public eyes to guarantee greater covering for the female body. Similar positioning arrangement is found with male and female hostels in many schools. Some schools forbid male students from going to female hostels while the opposite is not the rule. All this is aimed at shielding the female body from easy exposure.

Understanding the reason for this contradictory treatment of the female body may help us have a more balanced view of issues related to sexual harassment and intrusive touches. Looking at the human matrimonial heritage as rooted in patriarchy will be useful here. In the older and cruder stage of patriarchy, the woman, once married, lived completely at the pleasure of the man. Her body was uncompromisingly reserved for his pleasure. She must preserve it for the man by avoiding extramarital sex. Ironically, the man was not obliged to do same, as he was granted the liberty of sexual intercourse with as many women as he might want – typically wives and concubines, and even slave girls of his wives as seen among the ancient Semites and Romans. In many ancient cultures, adultery was seen more as an offence against a husband; a man could not commit such offence against the wife, so a man could not be guilty of adultery. Even though both the Bible (Leviticus 20:10) and the Koran (Surah 24:2) respectively prescribe death and 100 lashes for adulterers, male or female, the procedure of enforcement is clearly biased against women. Under the Jewish Torah, a man’s mere suspicion of his wife of adultery calls for a trial by ordeal to prove her innocence (Numbers 5:11 – 31) whereas no provision is made for a reverse situation. This practice, known as Ordeal of Jealousy, existed not just with the Jews, but also among other cultures of the ancient Near East, and was clearly geared towards protecting the man’s interest in the female body within the normative framework of the patriarchal matrimony.

The culture of harem – where women of a wealthy man were kept literally in protective custody – further underscores how much the female body has been appropriated by the man for his exclusive pleasure. A harem was kept apart and secluded from other parts of a compound while the women there were guarded by eunuchs who, through castration, had been rendered incapable of sexual trespass. (This ancient practice of seclusion remerges, albeit more subtly, in the modern practice of positioning of female lavatories, dormitories and other private domains farther away from the public view vis-à-vis the men’s).

Thus, women, from time past, have always been made to conduct themselves in such a way as to suit the patriarchal expectations of an “ideal woman”. And the ultimate realization of this ideal woman is under the matrimonial roof wherein she becomes the man’s sexual partner. Thus, unto this day, a woman must guard her sexual purity in order to become marriageable – a “wife material” as colloquially said in our part of the world. This explains the prime place given to virginity in matrimonial consideration. In some older cultures, a woman must prove her virginity via an initial sexual intercourse with the suitor which forms part of the marriage formalities. In the event of her failing the virginity test, the marriage would be called off. The Jews upheld this practice as a matter of religious laws (Deuteronomy 24:1). In the modern time, this culture is symbolically re-enacted through wedding gown– its white colour signifies sexual purity (virginity) while the veil covering the woman’s face presents her as a brand new parcel to be opened by the expectant receiver (the groom) through the ritual lifting of the veil.

Thus, within the logic of the patriarchal matrimony, the woman is not the owner of her body; she does not protect her purity for herself but for society and her husband, whether already found or still hoped for. So when our sexual ethics forbids men from exploiting female bodies whether by contact, look or in any other way, they are merely being restrained from trespassing in the “property” of another. It is not the woman that is being protected, but the values of the patriarchal matrimony which demand that the woman remains “pure” and “undefiled” for her husband, whether of now or future. In other words, they are being preserved to be suitable to be married – to be a “marriage material”. So when women are required to cover their body more than men may be required (like seen with some religions), when their lavatories are more “hidden” from public view, and when their body is more guarded against other forms of intrusion, it is the rights and privileges of men being protected and not the autonomy of the woman. Stated differently, these rules are mere reenactment of harem, but in a more refined manner. I have since observed how a man may, for instance, urinate in an open place but a woman would be ostracised for doing same; but then curiously, the criticism against her is not to the effect that she is debasing herself, but to the effect that she is making herself unworthy of a man, whether as a husband or boyfriend – “so later a man will marry this one,” our people are wont to say.

In a nutshell, therefore, patriarchy sees the female body as being there for the pleasure of the man, but at the same time it sees the need for exclusive appropriation, such that no man shall trespass in what does not belong to him. This contradictory imagining of the female body has inevitably birthed a contradictory sexual ethics that victimises both men and women. This ethics is predicated on the ancient myth of sexual inequality of men and women, on a belief that women ought to lack the freedom of choice outside the rules decreed by the patriarchal society and its matrimonial institution. Thus, there is stigmatisation of the woman as sexually fragile, easily defiled and degraded by even the most disinterested of sexual involvements. She is presented as being the victim, the loser in any sexual contact. In sexual contacts, women “give” their body to men, while men “have” the body – thus they are the used. They are made to be sexual victims as against sexual protagonists. They are objects as against subjects of sexual relations. A man may feel “man enough” for being able to have sex while a woman feels “used” in sex. Thus, virginity, as a cultural and lingual phenomenon, is of feminine character – only a woman can lose virginity, a man is culturally protected from such defilement.

So fragile has our sexual ethics rendered women that the slightest (even unintended) of contacts or even look from the opposite sex are easily found sexually offending by them. In other words, in their relationship with the opposite sex, they feel easily invaded, offended and degraded. “Don’t touch me else you defile me” seems to be an unvoiced fear of women when they walk in crowded places like markets. This explains the weird reaction of my classmate as I narrated earlier; it explains why some of us could only see “touching without consent” as the biggest factor in that video of the lecturer-student altercation. Our sexual ethics and laws create and reinforce this worldview such that even touching materials that are not part of the natural female body – such as wigs and weavons worn by a woman – may amount to sexual harassment under the law! The same obtains with hissing or even winking at a woman! Our sexual ethics reflects patriarchy’s quest to put women in their “proper” place of sexual passivity. It alienates them from their sexual self. They are expected not to be their true self, to live in sexual denial; in fact, in the words of writer Chimamanda Adichie, to “turn pretense into an art form.”

On the other hand, men are not spared of the pains of our convoluted sexual ethics by the way they are being demonised by sexual laws and morals. Our sexual laws have been largely one-sidedly constructed. Legislations and morals on sexual autonomy largely have feminine bias – women are the group largely targeted for protection while men are the predators to be tamed. Rape is constructed in the laws of most nations as involving only penetration of a woman. (It is only recently that the Nigeria’s Violence Against Persons Act widened the construction of “penetration” to include oral and anal and capable of being accomplished not only with the male organ but with fingers, tongue, sticks etc. which thus accommodated men as possible rape victims).

Our sexual ethics makes it legitimate for the female body – via entertainment, fashion and popular culture in general – to be flaunted before the eyes of men, but who, at the same time, are forbidden from contact or even look, nay they have to negotiate through very difficult, tricky and intricately convoluted terrains to avoid crossing boundaries. They are daily harassed on magazine covers, films, dance, advert billboards and even on roads by female bodies dressed to sexually allure (or harass?). Yet, they are expected to pretend not to be so harassed as our sexual ethics and laws do not recognize these as sexual harassments – at least in practical terms. While there are many men who may take pleasure in these erotic displays of the female body, there are also many who, for religious or ethical reasons, would find them objectionable and repulsive. Yet, our sexual ethics and laws do not protect their rights. On the contrary, our sexual ethics does not recognise men’s right to so sexually flaunt their body before women, as that would easily be termed sexual harassment. In fact, the way sexual harassment has been constructed across cultures infuses it with a huge feminine bias such that practically only women can be victims of harassment while men are seen as the dangerous unrepentant culprits to be tamed.

In view of the foregoing, suggesting that we require a new sexual ethics will amount to stating the obvious. It was exactly for this reason that 20th century English philosopher, Bertrand Russell, called for new moral principles around human sexuality. In his popular work, Our Sexual Ethics, he observed that our sexual morality is, in many respects, rooted in ancient taboos as against rational considerations. I find this view absolutely valid, and it must be emphasized that nothing meaningful has changed more than 80 years since Russell wrote. Given the extent humanity has advanced in knowledge, it is only natural that our sexual ethics ought to have evolved from its atavistic form to a more refined form founded on real knowledge as against myths, on evidence as against superstitions, and on rational reflections as against taboos. Here the pool of knowledge on human sexuality which we have accumulated from biology, sexology, anthropology, history, sociology, psychology, philosophy and other relevant disciplines will be our invaluable guide. This is our only way of breaking with the present uneasy reality where we are struggling to make sense of and live with a sexual ethics that is internally contradictory and antithetical to justice.

Henry Chigozie Duru, PhD, teaches journalism and mass communication at Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka, Nigeria.