‘Everyone’s Seen My Tits’ Is a Cheeky Title for a Memoir About Gender and Sexual Trauma

"I wanted to explore class and feminism, and my story really lends itself to that," Keeley Hazell told Jezebel about the process of writing her new memoir.

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‘Everyone’s Seen My Tits’ Is a Cheeky Title for a Memoir About Gender and Sexual Trauma

If you’re familiar with British lad mag culture, exemplified by FHM, Maxim, and Zoo, you might recognize Keeley Hazell, who proclaims in the title of her memoir, out this week, that everyone’s seen her tits. She shot to British notoriety during the mid-2000s as a Page 3 girl, so named for the third leaf of tabloids such as The Daily Mirror and The Sun, which offered readers a side of topless glamour models with their morning coffee. “It was bizarre, the thought of people around the country doing their morning routines, drinking tea, eating slices of toast,” Hazell writes. Revered in certain sub-cultures with the esteem of posing for a Playboy centerfold, being on Page 3 offered young lasses their shot at 15 minutes of fame. For Hazell, it was her shot at freedom. 

Growing up working class in Lewisham, London, Hazell paints a picture of intergenerational poverty, addiction, and domestic abuse. Everyone’s Seen My Tits is subtitled Stories & Reflections from an Unlikely Feminist, and Hazell had feminist observations from a young age—even if she wasn’t able to place the gender equality label on them until her 20s. “When I was 8, I was having an argument with my cousins about men’s and women’s places and I was like, women have to do everything: the cooking, the cleaning, and they have jobs! The guys do nothing!” she told Jezebel via Zoom from her Los Angeles home late last month. 

Still, she felt ostracized from a movement that saw her and her topless modeling as incompatible with feminism. One pivotal moment in the book hinges on an interview she did with a journalist who asked her how it felt to be contributing to rape culture by getting her kit off (to use a Britishism). Though Hazell writes that these types of assertions have since been debunked, the arguments of critics who feel Page 3 sexualized women. (The Sun ceased publishing Page 3 in 2015 and most other publications followed thereafter). “Page 3 can definitely elicit the objectification of women, but I think women are objectified anyhow without it,” she said.

If you’re not familiar with Page 3 until this reading, you might better recognize Hazell from her role as Bex in the mega-hit Ted Lasso, for which she wrote the season three episode “We’ll Never Have Paris,” which is based on her experience with image-based sexual assault. If you’re confused, yes, Keeley is also the name of a character on Ted Lasso, played by Juno Temple. That character, written by star and co-creator of the show, Jason Sudeikis, was based on Hazell’s experience; Hazell gave script input early on, and was originally set to play the character based on her.

“A fucking joke. I’m good enough to be a character, but I’m not good enough to play her,” she writes in Everyone’s Seen My Tits upon discovering that Temple—who had a “bigger résumé”—got the role instead. “Of course she had a bigger résumé. While I was digging through phone booths for coins so I could eat, her dad was casting her in his films!” (She appeared in the 2000 movie Pandaemonium, which was directed by her dad, Julien Temple.)

Hazell only appeared on the show after accepting a smaller part, as the wife of a fictionalized version of David Sullivan, the majority owner of West Ham United. Sullivan is also the former owner of The Sunday Sport, which published a stolen sex tape of Hazell in the late 2000s and is the last Page 3 holdout. “Had I been in a more stable financial situation” when she took the role, Hazell said, “I probably wouldn’t be in the show at all.” She is not currently working on the fourth season of Ted Lasso.

Everyone’s Seen My Tits is in conversation with other recent memoirs from women who’ve experienced sexual trauma while being in the public eye, such as Pamela Anderson and Paris Hilton, though she self-deprecatingly shrugs off those comparisons. “Both of them are incredibly famous and I don’t see myself as being famous,” she said in our conversation.

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.


When did you decide you wanted to tell your story?

The idea for the book came in my early 20s and I joked, if I write a book, it’d be called Everyone’s Seen My Tits. It was brewing for many years. I didn’t think I wanted to publish a book [at that time]. I wanted to wait until I felt like I’d made it in a different career other than modeling—which really didn’t happen! I wanted to explore class and feminism and my story really lends itself to that. 

Did you have trepidation about retraumatizing yourself in writing about some of these things?

There was a part of me that was conscious of retraumatizing myself; opening up wounds too quickly instead of letting them heal. It was really hard to write about the sex tape, because I’d never spoken about it outside of therapy. I’m opening up something that’s really difficult to talk about, and I’m drawing attention to it, so that people who didn’t know now do. That was something I struggled with—what’s the positive and negative impact that this could have?

Do you think what you experienced—especially being sexualized in the public eye—contributed to your feminist awakening?

I have always had a feminist mindset but I just didn’t have the vocabulary to articulate it or the intellectual understanding of it. As a kid, I wanted to be a boy because the way I saw women and girls treated was unfair and unjust. That was the start of me realizing that the world was unequal based on gender.

Where it gets complicated is that I don’t necessarily see my job in glamour modeling and Page 3 as a feminist act. That was born out of survival, necessity, and monetary gain, which is a class struggle. That’s what I wanted to explore with the book—trying to understand where that line starts. In order to advance, I’m playing into an oppressive system, even though I call myself a feminist now that I can label it. I don’t necessarily see this as a feminist act or proclaim that posing topless or nude is empowering, though some women do feel that way and that’s totally fine.

It was Paris Hilton who coined the term “sexy but not sexual.” Her public image was hyper-sexualized but she thought she was asexual at one point because she was so traumatized by her sex tape. It got me thinking about how you write about being celibate for over a year because of the trauma related to your stolen footage. Do you think there’s a kind of cognitive dissonance there?

The sexuality that’s presented is very curated, especially in America. From the little that I know about Paris Hilton, she was very performative and presented in a way that appealed to the audience and wasn’t authentic to who she was. The way women present is performative for men, so there’s a disconnect in women’s wants, needs, and desires. There’s no space for it to exist. Because of the violation with my sex tape, any form of intimacy felt very unsafe. I was at an age when I didn’t really understand myself sexually either. It took me until my mid-20s to figure out my sexuality and desire. There was such a disconnect between who I was in a magazine and who I am in real life. The way in which I appeared sexual in photographs didn’t exactly make me feel sexy. It wasn’t eliciting any desire on my part; it was so unknown to me. So to then have this sexual violation really shut off wanted to be with anybody sexually or romantically. 

You mentioned earlier that you wanted Everyone’s Seen My Tits to explore class and feminism. We’ve talked a lot about the latter, but was there anything you want readers to know about class before they pick up the book?

For me the book is more class-based than it is feminism-based, and that’s because my story is about survival and social mobility. My choice to pose topless and do Page 3 came about because of my socio-economic background. It wasn’t a desire. 

Class changes everything. Look at Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian—two women who became famous from sex tapes. The only reason they became famous is because of the affluence and privilege that they were already privy to.

So when it comes to feminism, class and race really intertwine and influence where they start and where they end up. Even though I’m now in a different class category than when I grew up, I’m still limited by where I came from in a way that Hilton and Kardashian aren’t. 

You wrote, “The same man [David Sullivan] whose empire profited off my worst nightmare is now the chairman of West Ham United, the football team owned by my fictional husband, Rupert, in Ted Lasso—a show I would go on to act in.” Did you have any trepidations about that when you eventually went to work on that show?

I wasn’t privy to the fact that David Sullivan is the majority shareholder of West Ham United until filming. At that point, I thought, what the fuck is life?! I wish I had known it before. I don’t know how much it would have changed things, but it made me realize how fucked the system is in so many ways.

The time in which I took on the acting role my life had not panned out the way I wanted it to. The only reason I took the part was because there was now a character named after and based on me in a show that I wasn’t going to make any money from. This acting role was me getting something monetarily for the fact that my likeness and life is being used in some way that’s making all of these people millions of dollars. 

The choice I made is a choice I’ve been faced with many times through life. Had I been in a more stable financial situation, I probably wouldn’t be in the show at all, on the West Ham grounds and playing a character who’s the wife of the owner. 

It’s funny, when I was selling this book, I had two offers from two different editors. One was female and the other was male. I really wanted to work with a woman, but the guy was offering double the money. I ended up taking less [to work with the female editor]. The show is an example of being in a position of being powerless.

You were originally up to play Keeley on Ted Lasso, but how much of your own experiences went into her characterization?

It’s a fictional character who has changed, so it’s not solely me. What went into her is an idea and an essence who Jason believed me to be. The Keeley character was born out of him seeing me and understanding that women are multifaceted despite being sexualized and put into this box.

Are you working on the new season, either as a writer or an actor?

No.

Is there anything else you can say about the show?

I don’t think I know more than anybody else. Just that it’s a women’s team.

That could be an interesting aspect of this new season, focusing on women’s sports, given how popular it’s becoming, and their experiences not being taken seriously in the industry.

My issue is that it’s a show that was created by four men that’s an exploration of masculinity. So when you make a new season centered on a female team, it’s wonderful, but the powers that be are four middle-aged white guys. I’m so happy we’re telling women’s stories, but I wish we were allowing women to tell them. There are so many amazing women in that writers room, and hopefully they’re putting things forward and being heard.

What are you working on next?

I’d like to turn the book into a one-woman show or a TV series. It’ll be a TV show run by a man! [laughs]

Scarlett Harris is a culture critic and author of A Diva Was a Female Version of a Wrestler: An Abbreviated Herstory of World Wrestling Entertainment.


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