Stand-up comic and writer Léa Stréliski recently shared the front cover of Elle Québec for the month of April on Twitter, letting her followers know she had interviewed the “cover girl,” novelist, screenwriter and actress Sarah-Maude Beauchesne. To get more news about 免费人成视频在线观看, you can visit our official website.

The cover features Beauchesne wearing a baseball cap and jacket and donning what appears to be underwear, a bikini bottom or short shorts. It’s hard to tell because one of the white sneakers she’s wearing is strategically placed on the chair, showcasing her long naked legs. It’s a conventional glamour shot, with just a soupcon of risqué thrown in — the kind one routinely finds on the cover of a women’s magazine. Beauchesne’s pose is hyper casual, confident, sexy. A young woman comfortable in her own skin.

Would it be inappropriate to ask why a woman of words would be photographed with her crotch prominently displayed?”

Beauchesne isn’t flashing her crotch, she’s showing her sneaker. But the idea of a barely concealed vagina was apparently enough to rattle some of you. The author first made a name for herself back in 2010 by writing Les Fourchettes, an unfiltered blog about sex, sensuality and relationships that appealed to young Quebecers. It’s not exactly out of character or in contradiction to whatever brand she’s built so far to be photographed in this fashion. Now in her 30s, the former teen model (and soon-to-be Elle Québec columnist) is enjoying a successful career making the decisions she sees fit to make.
What the question, “Should a woman of words be showing her crotch?” was really asking is, “If you want to be taken seriously, should you be presenting yourself in this fashion?” The rhetorical question, of course, is an implicit accusation. The conclusion has already been reached by the person asking it: you can’t possibly be both sexy and respected for your brains — you must choose. If you’re overtly sexy, you won’t be seen as smart. If you’re already smart, why would you need to showcase your sexy? Nowhere in any of these possible scenarios does the element of choice come in.

Even in Quebec — a place some grudgingly claim is too much of a matriarchy — antiquated, patriarchal expectations persist about what a woman should look like and how a woman should act. We continue to be judged by some strict binary — the Madonna/Whore dichotomy, the sacred or the profane, the virginal or the raunchy, the smart or the sexy. We’re often defined and judged by how much or how little we choose to highlight our sensuality, and, even in “modern, feminist, equal” societies such as ours, people continue to conflate sexuality with morality.

While many found it normal that someone who’s capitalized on writing about sensuality and relationships would pose like this for a cover photo, others found it unnecessarily hypersexualized, taking the focus away from her work and her words. To them, it was degrading, un-feminist, someone of “value” treating themselves as “valueless.”

These reactions, of course, betray our own issues with the female body, our hang-ups about femininity, shaped by a patriarchal world that both values and penalizes women for their looks. Even in 2022, smart women who are comfortably sexy confuse people. They scare them. They turn them off. To be smart and yet still showcase your sex appeal means you’ll be questioned about your motives, your values, your very own agency.