Rihanna’s pregnancy announcement shows bump judgment is still alive and well

As you may be able to tell, I also have skin (some of it stretchmarked, some of it “glowing”) in this game, as I’m eight months pregnant with my first baby. I may be neither a world-famous music icon nor the star of the nation’s favourite Sunday night drama, but I can certainly relate to the judgments and expectations that Rihanna and George’s recent experiences have exposed.

From what we wear to how we behave and what we eat and drink, the moment a woman is expecting, she is subjected to a torrent of comments and advice. Some of it is perfectly well intentioned, and ultimately very helpful even, but it can really mount up and create a whole new set of pressures at an already bizarre time.

I have found that you are always a bit “too” something when pregnant; too relaxed or too worried, showing off your bump too much or hiding it away too much, your style might be too revealing or too frumpy, you’re eating too much or too little and, my favourite, your bump is too big or too small.

The best advice I’ve had so far, in fact, is “don’t listen to anyone else’s advice” (though if anyone knows the secret to the ideal birth or a comfortable night’s sleep in the third trimester, sign me up). The spirit of that saying though, is perfect, especially when you look at the history of women, pregnancy and society’s judgment of them.

It can feel as if we can’t win, and many seem to find it hard to accept that while we might be growing the next generation of human beings, we are also human beings ourselves with our own take on life that we’re perfectly entitled to continue while expecting (within reason, obviously).

Until 40 or so years ago, most pregnant women were airbrushed out of society entirely, even at its highest echelons – although she’s given birth to four children, there are hardly any photographs of the Queen with a bump; despite Queen Victoria famously having a brood of eight, no portrait exists of her proudly caressing a growing stomach; and Grace Kelly used a handbag to cover her burgeoning tummy in 1956. Perhaps it was easier that way, given the hysteria (etymological pun intended) that bumps have evoked since it became more normal to see them.

Princess Diana, Princess Anne and the Duchess of York were the first royal women to continue appearing in public in the latter stages of pregnancy, a phenomenon that led to plenty of media commentary about their appearance. “She looked incredibly slender when she was expecting Harry,” one journalist wrote of Diana in 1984, while Buckingham Palace had to confirm that the Duchess of York was “fine” after press reports speculated that she looked “gaunt and thin” while pregnant with Princess Beatrice in 1988 (presumably these were the same outlets which later labelled her the “Duchess of Pork”).

What Diana and Sarah Ferguson did do for pregnant women was create a trendsetting “look” that others followed when they were expecting – there are photographs of my mother in wafty oversized floral dresses straight out of the royal maternity style playbook in the late 80s and early 90s. As Anna Harvey, Diana’s stylist once told me, “Back then you never flaunted your tummy when pregnant.”

Try telling that to Neneh Cherry and Demi Moore, though, who took an entirely different approach with their attitude to bump baring. A defining moment of Cherry’s career – and for the portrayal of pregnancy – came in 1988 when she sang Buffalo Stance on Top of the Pops while eight months pregnant, baring her stomach in a black lycra mini skirt, gold crop top and matching jacket – I only wish I could gyrate my hips so energetically right now. The performance showed a pregnant woman owning her body but also not letting her “condition” get in the way of her life, career and style.

Even more of a statement was Moore’s August 1991 Vanity Fair cover. Photographed in naked profile by Annie Leibovitz, the image was hailed as a “stroke of marketing genius” by Magazine Week. In her book, The Vanity Fair Diaries, the magazine’s then-editor Tina Brown said “how great it would be to show [Moore] pregnant instead of doing the normal thing with stars who are over three months gone and cheat the cover with a head shot or some other disguise”. She added that, “Women need this, dammit!”

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Women everywhere might not have been rushing out to emulate Moore’s nude shoot, but it did provide an alternative narrative that freed up space for other interpretations of pregnancy style later down the line.

As a young teen, I remember feeling totally relaxed about pop stars I loved, such as Mel B and Victoria Beckham in the Spice Girls or Melanie Blatt from All Saints, baring their pregnant stomachs in clothing that wasn’t much different to their usual looks – Posh Spice specialised in LBDs that clung to every curve of her bump while the Melanies wore camisoles and low-slung trousers that exposed their growing tummies.

For everyone who was easygoing and nonchalant about these women not changing their identity just because they were expecting, there will have been plenty of others casting judgment but the arrival of social media has served to intensify and expose just how entitled so many people feel in telling pregnant women what they should or shouldn’t be doing.

Admittedly, pregnancy announcements now often come with an OTT spin (see Beyoncé’s 2011 bump “reveal” at the MTV Video Music Awards or the 2017 photo shoot marking the news that she was expecting twins in which she posed in front of an abundant floral arrangement in a green veil and underwear) that is at once a wonderful celebration of happy news and a painful visual for anyone who’s struggling to conceive. Indeed, whether you’re sharing too much or too little of your pregnancy online is yet another minefield expectant mothers now face – one that I have certainly wrestled with and makes me sympathise with stars like Rihanna who leave it until they’re several months in or Alicia Vikander who only confirmed she’d had a baby when she was photographed with it.

I hope we are finally getting to a place where women can navigate this experience in exactly the way that feels right for them – I’ve certainly felt lucky that far from being confined to twee floral smocks, I’ve been able to find a way to continue expressing my personal style thanks to labels such as Beyond Nine (who do excellent boiler suits), Nine the Label (has a very chic, minimalist collection of knitted dresses, jumpsuits and co-ords that can be dressed up or down) and Clary and Peg (specialists in modern but comfy dresses and excellent dungarees).

But a stop to thoughtless, hurtful and often ridiculous judgments and stereotyping seems a long way off. And if you think this is a dilemma that goes away after nine months, the birth of a child and the inevitable “mum body” you’re left with afterwards present a whole new level of anxiety. I’ll be taking inspiration from Rihanna and Helen George, though, and doing it my way.

The Telegraph, London

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