With the recent suggestion of the administration to alter the dress code for Culture Night I’ve been thinking again about modesty. We’ve all signed the Honor Code and agreed to cover specific areas of ourselves with fabric, but have you ever stopped to consider why we dress this way?
I have.
I’m a willing participant in the practice of modest dress, but I want to dispel a myth about why.
It was over a year ago, but I remember it clearly. In relief society when a well meaning senior sister missionary reminded the class of our duty to keep our lovely lady lumps under wraps for the benefit of our priesthood brethren. She warned us of the dangerous thoughts young men have highlighting our innocence, ending with, “I know you would never mean to do that to the brethren. You don’t even know that it’s happening, really. You’ve just got to be careful.”
Let’s be clear. What that sister was saying and what has been echoed for decades upon centuries is that it is a woman’s responsibility to control the sexual nature of men’s thoughts by covering her body. This concept is rampantly perpetuated in our culture and so infuriatingly asinine I am nearly at a loss for where to start with its deconstruction.
First, we need to obliterate the notion that there is anyone unaware of the sexual nature of the thoughts of men (and women!). We know where babies come from, and most of us are excited to get some practice at that. This whole, “You’re virtuous because you have never been exposed to dark choices,” idea is not an option for our generation. We’ve been exposed. We’ve all been exposed. This Mormon thing I’m doing didn’t happen by accident.
Second, to say the mere presence of the body of a woman has an overwhelming effect on the thoughts of a man so as to render him powerless, regardless of the woman’s intentions, is to reduce men to the status of primal idiots incapable of only the most basic elements of self control. Equally as false and disturbing, this sentiment reduces women to a few select, isolated body parts and throws blame, guilt and shame at her in a situation rightly outside her responsibility.
Of all people on earth we ought to know better. We uniquely believe men and women to be gods in embryo. We are dynamic, capable, powerful, intelligent beings bursting with potential for growth. When this damaging rhetoric is taught as truth in an environment where we are hoping to be filled with spiritual sustenance, the effect is a perpetuation of the very behavior the rhetoric is intended to prevent.
After exposure to this rhetoric men may feel justified, even encouraged in allowing the natural man to run rampant since it, apparently, is so overwhelmingly powerful. If it’s not his responsibility to control his thoughts, it’s not his fault when his physiological responses “take over”, and this, my friends, is where religion feeds directly into rape culture.
On the other end of the spectrum we have men who are not hounded day and night by this obsessive need to breed. This may be because they have become mature, balanced, self possessed individuals. Or, far more common than we ever acknowledge, the spectrum of human sexuality is just that: a spectrum. Some men find that the hyper masculine image portrayed in the media resonates with them. Others are not constantly overtaken by this stereotypical behavior championed in music, locker rooms, TV and movies. When this end of the spectrum encounters such talk of women’s overpowering lustiness they may wonder if there is something wrong with them. Maybe I should be feeling that way… Women, on the other hand, are hurt in a whole different way by this concept.
To be a woman in the world today is tenuous enough a situation. We have been fed the lies of what makes a woman worth something from the time we could visually interpret a magazine cover in the grocery store check out line. The microscope a woman’s body lives under can be monumentally destructive. This problems is a driving force for eating disorders, self esteem issues, embarrassment, shame, and anxiety. This is the legacy every woman inherits by default. Now, take this relentless message of, ”How to get your bikini body by last Thursday”, “If you’ve got it flaunt it,” and, “21 ways to make his head spin”, and layer it with the voice of every respectable, authoritative man this girl has ever known, condemning her for even considering not keeping herself under wraps.
To a woman, the world says, “No matter who you are, you are the wrong shape and must conform and expose to be accepted. You will find your worth in direct correlation with your ability to make men want you.” The church culture replies, “No matter who you are or what your shape, your body is dangerous to the minds of men and must be concealed. You will find your worth as you protect your priesthood brethren from the inherent and unavoidable lust inducing essence emanating from your being.”
All of this is to say nothing of the fact that the clothing available to young women today falls in one of two categories: 1. Old McDonald had a farm… with three daughters dressed in homemade curtains, or 2. Is this a shirt or a bra? I can’t tell. Any women tasked with what often feels the impossibility of living “in the world but not of it” ultimately resorts to a daily ritual of layer upon layer upon layer of almost-but-not-quite attire.
I can tell you one thing, modest certainly is hottest, and we live in a tropical jungle called Hawaii. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Now, that being said, I do believe in dressing modestly. I’m an endowed member of the church and have been for years. For reasons described above I find it exceptionally challenging to live up to the standards of modesty that are, indeed, part of the agreement I made in the temple years ago--but I do it. It may not make a difference to you, but the reason I do it makes all the difference to me. It’s simple, beautiful and has absolutely nothing to do with my lady lumps or whether or not I’m causing my brother to stumble. Logic dictates, if my brother is stumbling he should watch where he’s going.
The reason I dress modestly is because I love God. I love God, and I promised Him I would do it. I don’t know exactly why He asked for it. I don’t know why the way a fabric hits my body makes such a difference to Him. And I have no idea how this idea that men’s thoughts are women’s responsibility got started or how it ever got so completely out of control. I do know He expects a lot more than primal idiots and isolated body parts out of us. I do know he views us each as a whole, not as parts or rudimentary urges, and I do know He loves me no matter what it is I decide.
But have made decisions.
I decided to take upon myself a higher standard of living when I made sacred covenants and accepted generous blessings. I decided to come to BYU–Hawaii, and I signed the Honor Code. I am a woman of my word. I dress modestly, and I will continue to dress modestly. I just want to state that it has less than nothing to do with you, your son, your boyfriend, or mine, the super attractive waiter or the nerdy boy in gym class. It’s about my God, my respect for Him and my commitment to be a woman who lives in truth.