Have you ever wondered what would happen if girls everywhere collectively decided to quit gettin' low?

What would happen if there was no more wobble wobble, no more hands on knees, 'bows on thighs, no more swinging it round your head like a helicopter? What if we all got together and said, "Hey, wet T-shirt contests really aren't fun!" or "But I don't want to drop it like it's hot!"

At this point, to prevent any type of mass suicide, I want to remind everyone that I am only conjecturing. When you go to out to the bars tonight, you will still see a group of girls dancing together and a group of guys watching nearby in stationary approval.

Just think — there used to be a time when women and men would dance together, there used to be a time when only prostitutes got catcalls and only strippers had one dollar bills tossed at them. Thank God that's over — thank God we females are finally liberated from those cages of sexual restraint.

If you're picking up on my sarcasm right now, let me assure you that I am not blind to the benefits of the sexual revolution. Birth control is attainable to nearly everyone now and abortions no longer include a rusty hanger and a man who looks like Leatherface. In these respects, we certainly are more liberated. We have come a long way since the days of confinements and backroom births. However, all of this came at a price, because somewhere along the way liberation turned against us.

Somewhere along the way, liberation quit being a tool of women who wanted to promote equal rights and instead began being a tool of media moguls who wanted to sell sex and beauty. The media exploits every single aspect of our so-called liberation. We don't have to wear corsets, or dress modestly, and we can burn our bras till the sun goes down. And hey, the producer of Girls Gone Wild will get it all on tape, no charge to us. We can even be lesbians now, but you had better be prepared for MTV to set it to music and turn it into cheap entertainment.

The most ludicrous part of this fake liberation is that women buy into it wholesale. They look at women who cover their heads and dress discreetly and feel pity for them. If only they could dress like us, if only they too could wear booty shorts and low-cut tops and have the freedoms we have.

In truth, a miniskirt can be just as confining as a June Cleaver get-up. More skin does not necessarily equate more freedom. Before people start calling me a feminazi, let me just state that I truly do not care how women choose to dress — be it modestly, scantily, or whatever — I just want it to be what makes them happy.

If girls want to bump and grind with their friends while guys stand back and watch, that's their choice. But let's not confuse this with liberation. Liberation may have been what brought women to college, it may have been what finally allowed us to seek higher education, but it is not what has us dancing on barstools. What has us dancing on barstools still remains a mystery — but it is probably not exactly what Susan B. Anthony and her companions had in mind.

Bridget Sharkey is a junior in LAS. Her columns appear Fridays. She can be reached at opinions@dailyillini.com.