I hate modesty.
I hate the way it sounds, what it means, the pressure it puts on me.
I hate the misogynistic tone it carries and the fact that people think it's valuable and pleasing.
Modesty has done nothing for me but tear me down when I want to feel confident. Modesty exists as a constant reminder that I will always be perceived as an object to be leered at.
Nothing but a doe-eyed creature prancing around in a skirt and crop top, subject to whatever impure thought that escapes a man’s mind and comes out of his mouth.
Modesty is not my friend. If it died today I wouldn’t miss it.
Before I continue, let me just introduce you to this contradictory idea that many people are probably going to disagree with or have a hard time accepting: modesty is the new bohemian.
It's unconventional and an uncomfortable subject to bring up in a public forum because it's often seen as a personal attack or as a way of invalidating women, neither of which I ever wish to do when I discuss modesty.
But modesty is the new counterculture, it's the middle ground in between the two extremes available to the swinging pendulum and we’ve gone way too far to one side.
Society has been enforcing modesty so that women cover any and all revealing gaps of exposed skin to keep them from being a so-called “distraction” to men.
That always made me think, why is it my fault that boys can’t keep it in their pants at school and that the mere sight of my shoulders or thighs arouse them at age 13.
The concept of modesty has put women through generations of oppression, forcing them to lack individual style and expression. Is it not supposed to be my job to use my fashion choices as freedom of expression to rebel against that?
Modesty is based on this naive assumption that if I were half naked and exposed I would feel ashamed.
What is wrong with loving my body instead of being afraid or ashamed of it?
I think my body is heavenly, divine, every curve intricately sculpted.
This is how I thought of modesty since my teen years.
I think when I became aware of my sensuality and womanly wiles is when I decided to own my confidence in my body without shame.
If I were to see myself publishing an article with this title back then, I’d probably laugh in my own face, stage a protest against myself or something to that effect. I’d never believe it’s me. Modesty has become a foreign concept so much so that shopping in women’s sections online or at stores is sometimes hard when you don’t want something that shows all of your stomach and your chest.
We don’t talk about modesty enough in Western culture.
When we do talk about it, it’s usually as a parent, teacher or authority figure explaining to a young girl that she has to cover up because of the perverse thoughts of a man.
“Cover yourself, your uncles are coming over, that's no way to dress in front of family.”
“You can't wear that at school, there are boys around.”
These are two things I, like every other woman, has heard at some point in their life.
When you first heard this, the way I see it, there were two paths a young woman could have taken as a response.
She either thought “Screw you,” to the misogynistic context of modesty. Or truly believed she did something wrong.
Whichever path someone takes, they have to recognize that these ideologies have a negative perception of modesty because of this confining box people were put into as children.
Modesty was always framed to me as something that I needed to do for other people, always men.
I had never even considered the idea that modesty could be something I can do for myself and that could be a source of autonomy.
I let all of these negative associations sit with me for years, and eventually it simmered, boiled, overflowed and flooded. I chose not to care, I chose to do whatever felt best for me.
I’m not saying that notion is wrong, people should do what is best for them, but there’s a lot to consider here.
Immodesty has been used as a tool of liberation by previous waves of feminism, and we as the next generation have been brought up to adopt those tactics of immodesty as the norm.
I thought I had to choose between feminism and modesty, as if those were two opposing ideas.
They're not opposing ideas and pitting them against each other is harmful to both.
There is no right or wrong way to be a feminist, and we should not try to enforce our opinions through shame.
Modesty can mean so many different things, it can have religious relevance or just sentimental value.
I’ve seen so many people talk about their journeys with modesty on social media, whether they journeyed back to it or just added on to its definition.
I’ve heard about Christian women who incorporate veiling into their outfits.
Veiling is a signifier of modesty and devotion to God. Christianity, Islam, and Judaism all have some form of it.
I’ve seen beautiful videos of Muslim women creating such colorful and coordinated ensembles with their modest attire and hijabs.
I see women now bringing out their long skirts and cozy sweaters for fall.
It makes me happy to know that women like this were either brought up in a household that taught them or they learned on their own what modesty can mean when you let go of the negatives.
Because it’s taken me years but I finally rewired my brain to know that modesty is only for myself.
I’m not going to pretend I know anyone’s personal experience with modesty, if it's positive or negative.
But what I do know is that no woman should be any less important to listen to just because of their connection to modesty, they should not be forced to give modesty up to be part of something else.
I was so lucky, I grew up with a healthy relationship with my body. I was happy, I rarely worried about or disliked my physical appearance.
I never hated the way I looked, even when people commented about weight gain or loss or acne.
I grew up with room for error and room to grow into my own person thanks to my mother and older sister.
But I think, and it’s not to say the blame is on anyone who raised me, if I had more comfortable conversations about modesty growing up that didn't include misogyny in between the lines, I wouldn’t have spent so much time wearing things that were a little exposing or things that did not express who I am as a person.
I want that for my daughters one day, I will have those comfortable conversations about modesty with them. Teach them to love their bodies in every way and understand that modesty is for them, if they want it.
I think that’s what we should want to provide for the next generation of young women, a healthy balance between freedom and modesty.
Because my body was intricately designed and sculpted into beauty to be dressed in any way I want.
The truth is I love modesty, it makes me look at my body differently, it makes me feel infinitely warm and happy, it makes me feel confident and divine. I would dearly miss it if it went away.
I love its many definitions, I love what it has added to my life.
Modesty is my love letter to my body, making up for all that time that I thought modesty was meant for someone else.
