The picture: a stunning young woman whose snugger than snug shorts display every glistening inch of her legs from the toes up. She may even sport a tiny top that precariously hangs on her frame just so. Oh how dangerously skimpy.
If anyone were to criticize a girl for wearing such a revealing outfit, we might argue in defense that shorts and tanks are the clothing prescribed for living in hot, hot Phoenix.
But everyone knows the weather is not the only consideration when dressing in the mornings. We dress for self-expression, for the function of our lives and to communicate something about ourselves. Sometimes it even comes down to role-playing: we have different outfits for job interviews, classes and nights out with friends. So what, then, do we say with our everyday attire?
A relatively scanty wardrobe is not uncommon dress for a typical female ASU student. It is actually quite normal for a female to sport shoulder- and back-bearing shirts with shorts cut high above the knees.
This minimal, form-fitting attire has become a fair synonym for the “student” dress code. This is not a question of values, or morality. But I ask, within our society, what does this do to the classroom environment and how we relate to one another?
Our learning environment becomes sexualized. It becomes a place of physical display, sexual objectification and, consequentially, one of sexual rebuke.
While both sexual objectification and its prime combatant, modesty, are experiences of both women and men, women’s bodies are fundamentally more sexualized than men’s bodies.
In American culture, a woman’s value and identity is greatly linked to her body and physical appeal. Women’s clothing is designed to facilitate that with cuts that accentuate and reveal female curvature, whereas men’s clothing is cut to fit loosely and squarely, usually concealing the "curves" of the male body.
Whether or not we intend it, our clothing sexually objectifies and genders our bodies for on-lookers and ourselves, regardless of our setting.
One way to counter this is through modesty — from men and women. At the mere mention of the word, 1960s U.S. feminists prompt us to remember self-repression and shame-culture, but this is a different definition and manner of modesty. Modesty in dress is a practice that can be both individually liberating and socially positive.
Author Wendy Shalit takes the stance against blatant sexual objectification in her book “A Return to Modesty: Discovering the Lost Virtue”, arguing in favor of modesty as a way to regenerate one’s sense of genuine, healthy sexuality; one not of superficial physical exploitation of ourselves and of others but of passion, respect, and intimacy.
While her views may still be extreme and culturally conservative at times, she brings modesty back to the table after having been pushed off into the stigmatized domain of religious practice, an arena that is often disconnected from and discredited by many people, particularly in academic circles. I argue modesty has a place in everyday life and secularist understanding as well.
Many students on campus are making the choices to live and dress modestly, in a manner that makes sense to them.
For some, it’s a matter of dressing their bodies with more discretion and sensitivity so to emphasize interior beauty and sense of self. For others, who dress in observance of religious practice, the principle is not that different: it’s less about legalism and more about your attitude and intentions and how you relate with others; physical dress is in part a manifestation of those.
I think there is validity in pursuing modesty as a way to regard oneself, one’s body and other people. Modesty conveys a respect for the relationship between you and the people around you and honors them just as much as it honors and celebrates yourself.
Grace can be found sun-bathing nude on Old Main lawn, or at grace.rolland@asu.edu
