On and off the catwalk, women’s sexuality is relevant only where it can be used to encourage consumption. Women are expected to be able to put their sexuality on and off as easily as a size-zero skirt; it skims lightly over the surface of the body but has nothing to do with desire. Top Model contestants who get it wrong are regularly disqualified for acting too sexual — hoochy is the favored term. But women who are not models also know just how this goes: You dress for the office, you mold your online and offline persona to reflect well on the company, and even out of office hours, your “performance” is judged as part of the branding of whoever’s dollar pays your rent and sends your kids to school.
In the world of women’s work, how one looks is as important, if not more important, than what one does: The existential anxiety of identity creation is also economic and social anxiety, because the penalties for nonconformity are so high. Feminine mystique becomes identity itself. The woman who does not possess it, the ugly woman, the overweight woman, the older woman, the woman of color who will not straighten her hair or bleach her skin, is assumed, in a very real sense, to be invisible. She is overlooked on the street, at parties, on dating web sites, at job interviews. She is dogged by a feeling of unreality; she does not exist, and if she dares to “be herself,” she is stunned to find, since her social legitimacy is contingent on artifice, that her self is not a legitimate social construct. As Shulamith Firestone writes in The Dialectic of Sex:
“Women everywhere rush to squeeze into the glass slipper … thus women become more and more look-alike. But at the same time they are expected to express their individuality through their physical appearance. Thus they are kept coming and going, at one and the same time trying to express their similarity and their uniqueness … this conflict itself has an important political function. When women begin to look more and more alike, distinguished only by the degree to which they differ from a paper ideal, they can be more easily stereotyped as a class: they look alike, they think alike, and even worse, they are so stupid they believe they are not alike.”
This is the intimate edge of neoliberal feminism, the meritocratic fantasy that, in this freest of all possible worlds, any woman can be anything she wants to be, as long as she slices her face and dresses her body to look exactly the same as everyone else.
This is an extract. You can (and I encourage you to read, it’s good) the whole article here:


