I’ve been sexualised since I was a child, and I’m sure most women can relate. There have been so many moments that I don’t even know which ones to share here. If you think about them too much, it can be really upsetting. But at the same time, this is reality.
When I was seven years old, a neighbour expressed a sexual interest in me. It’s also happened without me ever really knowing it. Like when I was on a bus as a kid with my mum. We were sat a few seats apart and the entire bus was empty apart from us. A man walked onto the bus and chose to sit next to me. He didn’t do anything – but it was definitely strange, and in hindsight, I think he was a paedophile.
When I was at school, a teacher used to make me and my friends hang out with him at lunch, forcing my friend to sit on his knee. When I was 18, I started seeing a therapist. Everything was going fine at first and I really trusted him. But a few months in, he said he couldn’t do this any more because he’d developed feelings for me. As he ended our session, he asked to add me on Facebook.
Aged 19, I went to the police because I’d had an issue with an abusive ex-boyfriend. A male police officer helped me sort it out – until he started messaging me inappropriately. He’d say things like, “I bet you get all the guys after you”. When an older female friend at university heard about this, she said he shouldn’t be doing this. But all I could think was, I bet she’d like to have someone as interested in her.
Looking back, I can see just how screwed up these experiences were. These men were meant to protect me. But they sexualised me. In the end, I sexualised myself too. I thought that was where my worth lay. Like many women, I sexualised myself because I wanted to be loved. It led to me developing eating disorders as a teenager – something I now know is quite common with people who have experienced sexual abuse. I couldn’t control the sexualisation, but I could control my body.
It’s also why I wanted to be a model. We teach girls that your life will be sorted if you’re validated for your beauty. But it doesn’t work like that. Modelling didn’t take away my insecurities or give me the dream life I thought it would. The fashion industry is full of men with cameras who want to get close to girls. The number of men who’ve sexualised me in my career could be a book in itself. Now I’m older, I’d tell them to f***off. But at the time, I didn’t have the language or the guts to do that.
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Charli Howard thought becoming a model would give her a dream life (Craig Fleming)
Once, when I was 21, a guy locked me in a studio and said, I want you to be topless. It was terrifying. Luckily, I managed to run out and escape. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t. Another time, a man pressured me into being topless on a beauty shoot even after I said no. I eventually agreed because there were women in the room, but he kept being really inappropriate. There’ve been times where men have had visible hard-ons. It happens to so many girls, but you think it’s just you.
It wasn’t until I was 32 that I really saw the impact this had all had on me long-term. I was suicidal and depressed. I didn’t want to live any more. So I went to see a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with complex post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I was mortified because my family is very military; I’ve seen the effects PTSD can have on people who have been in wars and seen people’s body parts blown off. I thought I was being a millennial snowflake. But my psychiatrist explained trauma over a prolonged period of time can really impact the brain.
You’re made to feel like an object your whole life, and then you make yourself one too
I hadn’t even recognised any of it as trauma. But now I understand that daily micro-aggressions impact you over time. Whether it’s walking past a group of men in fear, speeding up your walking at night because you’re scared, or being sexualised by those who are meant to keep you safe, it makes you feel worthless.
We live in a patriarchal society that teaches women if you’re beautiful and thin, you’ll be immune from all that. You’ll be safe. If others think you’re beautiful, you’ll feel beautiful. But that isn’t true. Beauty isn’t going to save you.
I’ve shared many of these stories in my new book Flesh: Decentering The Male Gaze And Reclaiming The Objectified Body, after I thought, how many other women are going through this? How many women question why they feel so anxious, insecure and are throwing themselves at men who don’t want or value them? It’s because you’re made to feel like an object your whole life, and then you make yourself one too.
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Charli Howard’s new book ‘Flesh’ is all about decentering the male gaze (Craig Fleming)
In the past, I constantly dated guys who made me feel bad. I’ve put myself in situations I’m not proud of. I didn’t feel great about myself, so I went to men who made me feel even worse, hoping for a different outcome each time. I’m embarrassed by some of the things I put up with.
The real trigger was when I turned 30. I thought, time’s running out, so I settled with a guy who was a complete loser. He was financially abusive. By the end of our first year together, I’d given him about £30,000. I didn’t even leave him until I realised he’d been cheating on me. I put up with it for so long because I had an incessant desire to be wanted and needed.
But now, I’ve done a total 180. I’m 34 and even though I want to get married, I’m not going to put up with any of the behaviour I used to. I value myself now, and I’d rather be single than with someone who treats me badly.
It was self-love that saved me. When you start focusing on yourself and stop seeing it as a selfish act, the world opens up to you. You’ll never regret speaking up for yourself. Ever since I started defending myself, I’ve never regretted it. It’s really been a lesson about coming home to myself and becoming the woman I wish I could have looked up to as a child.
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Charli Howard: ‘Ever since I’ve started defending myself, I’ve never regretted it’ (Craig Fleming)
I hope that by sharing these experiences, I can help other women and start conversations on the long-term impact of the male gaze. I loved the TV show Adolescence, but we’re only speaking about the boys’ side of the story. What about the girls who have died? The ones who have been abused? What kind of impact is this having on young girls growing up today?
So many of us take it out on their bodies. The return of thinness we’re seeing is women abusing themselves and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it’s happening alongside the rise of the far-right and incel culture. It’s like wanting to hide or shrink yourself away but still wanting to be heard and seen. I know women who are taking Ozempic even though they’re a healthy bodyweight, buying it illegally online, and injecting themselves with needles, all to lose weight.
Those aren’t women I want to be around. What they’re doing is all still so rooted in what men want. What about what we want? I spent so long sexualising myself and it had a profound impact on my confidence. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be sexy, but when you make it your entire personality, that’s a problem.
Once I started breaking that idea, I realised there’s so much more to life. I no longer go out with make-up on or feel the need to wear push-up bras all the time. I’ve come to realise my appearance is the least interesting thing about me – and that is wonderful.
As told to Radhika Sanghani
Flesh by Charli Howard (Orion £16.99) is published on 5 March
