There are two big breast fights going on at the moment and I’m nestled snugly between them. In the cleavage. Yes, even as you read this, people are waging war over boobs.The most public battlefront is over at Facebook where discreet images of breastfeeding have been deemed too offensive to remain on the world’s biggest social networking site. Wait, let me check the calendar because nobody told me a leap year means we leaped back to 1953.
Facebook, your ban is bollocks. Look, I know Mark Zuckerberg is really young and everything but it seems he doesn’t yet know the difference between “breastfeeding” and ”topless”.
Because unlike, say, flashing your boobs on a hens night, the only bit of breast visible during feeding is a modest glimpse of skin. It’s barely even breast. More like chest. And it’s far less than you’d see on display in the average food court. Unless your norks are enormous or your baby teeny tiny, their head obscures most of the action. So come on, Facebook. Pull yourself together and lift your ban. Honestly.
When it comes to bosoms, you couldn’t get two organisations more philosophically opposed than Facebook and the Australian Breast Feeding Association. They don’t like each other one bit. Do you know what else the Australian Breast Feeding Association doesn’t like? Formula.
I remembered this last week during a visit with a friend’s new baby when I was drafted into another breast battle, this one far stealthier. Before I explain, you should know this: I’ve breastfed three babies. Two successfully and one disastrously. I say this to establish my credentials as someone who has both loved and hated breastfeeding, who has felt like a legend and a failure, who has used formula at times and who is well versed in the complex politics of The Boob As Food Source.