She Wears the Pants By Lucy Wormald (she/her)
pants I feel shockingly powerful. I feel both magnetic and repellent. I feel brazen.
Two weeks ago I bought a pair of highwaisted suit trousers. They are grey and soft with a beautifully cut pleat front. They have a wide leg and are a little long, puddling around the top of my shoes. I relish putting my hands in the pockets – a luxury not often bestowed upon women’s pants. In doing so, my walk turns into a saunter, my expression slips to nonchalant, borders on icy. This character I take on, I have yet to fully make sense of. But I know when I am wearing these
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Entirely in control of how those looking at me consume my image. It is undoubtedly strange that a pair of pants is having such a profound effect on me. But try to take them from me and I will come to your house and shred your shoes. I am up with the play enough to understand that I am engaging with a symbol laden with an elaborate history of feminist discourse. The battle to unbind women from
