Bralessness: A Mental Bra-Burning Movement
We live in a world that values comfort, self-expression, and freedom.
Just joking. Many of us women feel pressured to slip on a bra every morning. This modern-day corset has become such a part of our daily routine that we don’t even question it as one of the subtle signs of the patriarchy.
But when you begin to examine the history and deeper implications of bras, you realise just how entrenched they are in beauty standards and the male gaze.
It’s about more than just “support”—it’s about who decides what’s acceptable for women’s bodies. (And it ain’t the woman, as we’ve seen time and again).
One day, it dawned on me that I genuinely didn’t enjoy wearing bras, and I finally felt safe enough to go outside without one. (More on that later).
That was a turning point.
Since then, I’ve chosen to go braless, except for sports.
And honestly?
I don’t want to go back.
To add to my little experiment, my husband decided to wear a bra to understand what all the fuss was about. (More on that later, too).
Needless to say, I’m embarking on a de-patriarchisation of the mind. A mental bra-burning movement, if you will.
Read on and share your thoughts.
Looking back, it’s strange to think that corsets were once everyday wear for women. From the Renaissance to the 20th century, it’s what fashionable, well-to-do women wore for 500 years! (Give or take).
Imagine squeezing yourself into something so tight you could barely breathe! (I suppose a lot of women do this with shapewear now? I’ve never tried).
But those contraptions shaped women’s bodies, literally rearranging their internal organs to fit this narrow, “ideal” form.
And for what?
Certainly not for comfort or health.
Like a shapely vase, corsets were for display, to create a silhouette that pleased the eyes of men and society. Women were the objects. Silent, agreeable pieces of movable beauty (that were also f*ckable).
A Reductionist History of Strapping our Breasts to our Chests
When bras became mainstream around the turn of the 20th century, they were hailed as more “liberating”.
But now I wonder, were they really that different?
Sure, they didn’t crush our torsos, but the principle remains the same. Shape yourself to be attractive, because her appearance is all the currency a woman has.
They’re the same tool of control, just in a different package.
Honestly, in principle, it’s not too different to foot-binding in ancient China, where women’s feet were tightly bound to create this “ideal” look. (And whether it’s bras or feet, it seems like the “ideal” was rather juvenile).
It’s all about manipulating ourselves to be perfect brides. And, in this way, what we were doing to our bodies fitted perfectly with what we were doing to our minds.
Bras and the Male Gaze
For the longest time, I didn’t think twice about bras.
Like many women, I excitedly started wearing bras as a pre-teen because it symbolised “being a woman”, more grown-up than my flat-chested girlfirends.
But as I thought about it more, I began to realise that the expectation to wear bras isn’t a natural law. It’s a patriarchal law.
And just because the majority think it’s the way to do something, it doesn’t make it true, or beneficial. After all, it took humanity centuries to accept that the sun, not Earth, is at the center of our planetary system.
The whole idea that breasts should look a certain way, that they must be lifted and hidden, isn’t a choice most of us arrive at on our own.
It’s a deeply ingrained belief that our natural bodies are wrong if they deviate from society’s idea of perfection.
Undiagnosed Social Perfectionism
And that perfection, in itself, is an inherently unreachable standard. We will always be considered too-something, despite all our efforts. Too fat, thin, too natural, too made-up. Too-something.
It’s why the cosmetics, diet and plastic surgery industries are so prevalent.
For years decades, I internalised that message. I didn’t even think about it. I was totally blended with the way things were. Too in it to realise that I was swimming in poop.
It was only when I began therapy and decided that I was the only person I needed to please—with my body, my thoughts, and my life—that I started questioning all the things I’d been doing automatically to participate in an unspoken “mating game” where men hold all the power.
I’m not willing to subscribe to that anymore.
The Feminist Rebellion - The Bra Burners of the Past
When I started learning more about feminism, I discovered that women in the 1960s and 70s had already started questioning these norms. So yes, it’s not a Millennial/ Gen-Z fad. (Although, more on that later).
You might have heard about “bra-burning feminism.”
The reality is, women didn’t actually burn their bras en masse, but they did throw them away as a symbolic act of rebellion.
It was their way of rejecting the expectations around their bodies and reclaiming their comfort and agency. For those women, discarding bras was about saying, “My body is my own, and I don’t need to fit anyone else’s standard.”
And even though I feel like we’ve come a long way, bras are still largely unquestioned today. We may not be wearing corsets, but many of us still wear bras just because it’s “normal.”
For me, going braless has become a quiet act of reclaiming that comfort and authenticity. It’s a small thing, but every day, it reminds me that I don’t have to shape myself to fit anyone else’s expectations.
A Mental Bra-Burning Movement
What do we all do when we get home? Sometimes, before I even take my shoes off, I’m unclipping my bra and taking it off through my clothes.
They don’t make me feel comfortable or good about myself. Sure, I liked the way my boobs look in them, but that’s only because I’ve been conditioned to dislike the way my boobs look without them.
So, I decided to stop wearing them. Except for sports (because, let’s face it, some things are just practical),
I haven’t worn a bra in the past three months—and I don’t miss them one bit.
Now, this isn’t a practical suggestion for everyone. I live in a place where I feel safe going braless.
Back when I lived in South Africa and Ethiopia, where misogyny and gender-based violence are more prevalent, I wouldn’t have felt as comfortable or safe making this choice.
It’s a privilege to be able to choose not to wear a bra, and I realise that not everyone feels this freedom.
But for me, the mental bra-burning movement is a small choice. And boy is it liberating.
My husband’s experiment with wearing a bra also confirmed what I already felt—that women shouldn’t have to bear this discomfort just to meet some outdated standard. He initially agreed to wear it for a week, but gave up after a measly day and a half. “Itchy, sweaty, uncomfortable being strapped down all day”. Watch him explain it himself.
If I’m honest, part of the reason I wore bras for so long was because of complex trauma conditioning.
For some of us, there’s this deep-seated need to conform, to be accepted, to stay “in the pack.”
Others of us (me included) may have internalised the belief that being uncomfortable is just a necessary part of life (and that you’re doing it wrong if you’re relaxed). #HelloAnxiety. And the world also likes to remind us that our value lies in how we’re viewed by men.
For others, growing up in a household where appearance was everything can make us feel like we have to look “perfect” to be accepted. It’s not easy to unravel these layers, but recognising them is a powerful step.
Then, it’s onwards and upwards to a mental bra-burning movement.
We're Recognising the Subtle Signs of Patriarchy
We’re living in an era when the collective female consciousness is rising. Movements like #MeToo, #TimesUp, #SeAcabo and #YoTeCreo have been essential in exposing the subtle and not-so-subtle ways patriarchy controls women’s lives.
These movements, alongside landmark sexual assault cases and even the tragic reversals of women’s rights in the U.S., have forced us to face the reality of how deeply ingrained patriarchal control is.
These issues aren’t just isolated incidents—they’re symptoms of a society that still expects women to mold themselves for the comfort and desires of others.
The more we become aware of this, the more we’re able to recognise that even small things, like wearing a bra, may not actually be about us at all.
They’re about conforming to what society expects, regardless of our comfort or preferences. It’s about control.
Unlearning this conditioning and finding ways to challenge it, whether that means going braless or not, is a personal journey that speaks to the larger struggle of reclaiming our bodies and our choices.
So, friends, check-in with what makes you feel comfortable. I invite you, then, to decide accordingly.
A Braless Future?
Interestingly, we’re seeing a shift in this area. Younger generations—especially Gen Z and Millennials—are much more open to going braless. In countries like the UK, Nigeria, and the US, women are rejecting bras as a default. Movements like #FreeTheNipple have gained momentum, particularly among younger women who are tired of being told their bodies need to be hidden or molded to be acceptable.
This shift feels like the beginning of a new era, one where more women feel empowered to prioritise their comfort and authenticity over arbitrary standards.
It’s a small rebellion, but it reflects something much larger.
A desire to break free from norms that never served us in the first place.
Will bras eventually go the way of corsets? Maybe.
One day, future generations might look back at bras the way we now look at corsets and wonder why we put up with them for so long. And the mental bra-burning movement turns into a real one.
For me, going braless has been a reminder that my body is mine to live in as I choose.
Every day, it’s a choice to prioritize my comfort and well-being over conformity.
And if you’re feeling uncomfortable in your bra, remember—you have a choice. No one is forcing you to wear them.
Whether you decide to wear one or not, let that choice come from a place of self-care, not from societal pressure.
Our bodies belong to us, and each step we take to reclaim them, no matter how small, is a step toward freedom from the subtle signs of patriarchy.
[…] as often as I needed to, choosing instead to “hold it in”. And I held my breath and wore uncomfortable clothing because I wasn’t in touch with my […]