Don't Be A Creeper April 25, 2011

I’m the youngest of 3 siblings – 2 older sisters – and I grew up in a house where my Dad worked a lot, so much of my initial socialization was really female-oriented. Sure, as a kid, I loved army toys and transformers (anything Japanese was instantly cooler than anything else), and understood quite clearly that all the girls in my class were infectious cootie carriers to be avoided at all costs. But at the same time, I also spent plenty of lazy summer afternoons with my Mom and my sisters, watching musicals on TV. Early on in my life, I learned to appreciate the over-the-top production numbers in every Esther Williams movie just as much as I watched Frankenstein tearing up the castle on Creature Feature. And my Dad, when he and I did hang out one on one, was never the kind of Dad who would make extensive commentary on any woman that we saw that he found attractive. Honestly, that whole thing where a guy stops in mid conversation, turning his head to track a woman as she walks by… I never believed that existed outside of movies and TV shows as a plot gag until much later in life (and guffawed loudly when I did). Because seriously – that’s just Being A Creeper.

Pop was always about respect at a nearly chivalrous level, and my Mom was an excellent teacher in instilling empathy. Old fashioned? I guess, but not a bad thing by any stretch of the imagination (more really in the good column, honestly). So really, I never really stared at girls, made much in the way of comments, or any other overt behavior along those lines – and I never felt really comfortable when others casually dished it out near me either. Later in life, when I got plugged into a social circle that participated in the Burlesque scene, I finally got over being incredibly self-conscious about looking… because you can only practice the “oh god don’t look at the beautiful girl on the dance block, don’t stare, don’t be rude, don’t objectify” when it ends more often than not with “and WHOA HEY they just hopped off the block and are hugging me OH HAI!”. I learned to holler appreciation for the performers, and as I reached out to show them my appreciation via facebook or other avenues, and ended up hanging out with them, conversing, and just having a decent, nice time, that final barrier of objectification dropped… because they may be larger than life when they’re up on a stage or a dance block, but they’re Just Folks. And like anyone else, they deserve respect.

One of the things that’s always an undercurrent in the back of my head is when I post the Goodnight Moon pics or other pin-up material is how it’s construed as a reflection on myself, because I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want to Be A Creeper. As my friend RJ put it, “The thing I always try to remember is that we all have latent douche tendencies; and if we aren't careful, the douchiness can manifest”. We’ve all had that moment – maybe we’re tired, or maybe we went a martini too far, and we do something that treats somebody like less than a person and more like a servile object. It doesn’t necessarily even have to be about sexual attraction… if you’re rude to waitstaff or other people in the service industry in a way that treats them as less than human, you’re swimming in the same waters. So I’m always concerned, ever so slightly in the back of my head, that I’m presenting or indulging in some of that.

That pops up, in turn, partially because of what I see out there in the places where I find these photos. The whole thing about Goodnight Moon is, for me, a celebration of pin-up kitsch and all shapes and sizes of people. And that last word is important – people. Of course we all have our own preferences for shapes and sizes when it comes to sexual attraction. And that’s more than just fine – it’s awesome. But it’s also easy to get, uh… “target fixation”, and to forget that there’s a person those awesome hips or cute butt are not just attached to, but part of.

There’s a large swatch of blogs out there (mostly tumblr) that I regularly hoove down via RSS, devoted to pin-up style photos or curvaceous women. And it’s depressing how regularly I end up rolling my eyes at the comments attached to these pics, and how often it’s just about getting off on that one body part. Make no mistake – what we find attractive in consenting adults is something to be celebrated, but man… when it’s all about someone’s rack or ass, you know what?

You’re Being A Creeper. Fucking stop it.

So just remember that… if you’re looking at someone performing on a stage, or a dancing block, or posing in a photo, smile and raise the beverage of your choice in a toast to the awesomeness of life. But raise in toast to that person. And not just their ass – because they are Just Folk, just like you. It doesn’t matter how many layers are between you and them – be it the space between you and stage or the vast distance of impersonality that the internet creates – they’re people, just like you.

So, I hope you view the pin-up material I post here in the same way – not just as “holy shit, that’s hot!”, but also to smile over the person who is taking joy in what is their humanity, and expressing it through their art. Smile and revel not just in the beauty you may find, but the spirit of fun and freedom as well.

And really if you can’t manage that? At the very least… Don’t Be A Fucking Creeper.