I got a phone call from my little sister a few weeks ago; she was gushing ecstatically about her recent triumph over the school officials after they confronted her on her dress code. A sheriff and school official pulled her aside from the busy halls and told her to change because she was “not wearing a real shirt” and she told them off.

She responded to their request for a visit to the principal’s office to receive “proper attire” by simply informing them that she was, in fact, wearing a shirt and promptly disregarded their attempts at an argument and headed to class. Millie’s shirt this day was a sheer blouse with a fitted cami underneath, a perfectly acceptable ensemble by high school standards and a common piece of attire worn by a variety of her classmates.

While this story can seem like a small and insignificant part of any high school girl’s day, it paints the picture of the much more grave and troubling topic of sexism through body policing by institutions in American schools. I was so shocked by this short anecdote: are people still telling middle and high school girls that they are dressed inappropriately and forcing them to change? I forget that I’m enrolled in a university and wearing spandex to class is widely accepted and people are accustomed to black lacey bras under thin, shear shirts. I forget that this isn’t the norm.

I didn’t go to a public school until my college education but this didn’t prevent me from being subject to modesty rules and dress codes. I wasn’t allowed to wear shorts to church as a young girl or even halter tops or strapless dresses.  Bikinis were completely off the table when it came to swimwear, and new outfits were critiqued and monitored by first my mom and then my dad, who made the ultimate decision as to whether or not my or my sisters’ outfits were too promiscuous or distracting for our ‘brothers’ (by brothers, I mean our Christian family of male believers rather than actual familial men).

We accepted these modesty ideals, though. My sisters and I, the youth of the church, my homeschool friends and enemies alike. We believed in the idea that we, as young girls, were vessels of purity and examples of godliness. We associated the revealing of bare shoulders and exposing of upper thighs with a loud cry for help, a plea for attention, an invitation for lustful thoughts and sensual encounters.  

At this ripe young age, we were taught to cover and conceal our bodies.  We were taught that our bodies were things, objects that must be kept a secret and hidden away from the wandering eyes of our brothers in Christ.

We learned to be ashamed of our bodies and that we were responsible for maintaining the purity of the hearts of our brothers.

These damaging lessons have the potential to manifest themselves in the lives of the women to whom they were taught in painful ways. Body shaming encourages body dysmorphia, eating disorders and slut shaming. Placing the responsibility of keeping boys’ hearts pure on young girls simply encourages victim blaming and promotes rape culture.

Thus, it is evident that lessons like these have the potential to create a variety of issues and insecurities that can prevail through adulthood in the minds and bodies of young women. But today, I’m just going to try (as they are all heavily related and interconnected) to focus on one: body shaming.

Body shaming comments and ideas are massively prevalent in our culture. I mentioned earlier my conservative Christian upbringing because the church, along with schools and education, is a major institutor of these modesty values and ultimately the shame that accompanies their crumbling.

And when I say the “church,” I mean the community that was fostered within the congregation walls, the interactions that were had, the fellowship that occurred. It was in this God-loving community that I learned to be ashamed of my body.  

I am not free from blame, however. Both a victim and a perpetrator, I loudly expressed my judgements of the girls in Sunday School who wore short jean shorts to church or strapless dresses on Easter Sunday. Wrought with envy, I craved this freedom to dress however I pleased. So instead of supporting my believing sisters, I bought into the idea that what I wore made a statement about my soul, my godliness, my purity.

These two conflicting desires – to be able to wear what I wanted for its aesthetic and attractive aspects and the duty to my brothers to be a model of purity through my attire – caused incredible tension in my heart. I feared being labeled as slutty or immodest yet constantly “pushed the envelope,” as my mom dubbed it, with my parents when we went shopping, forever fighting for shorter shorts and tighter tops.

This pushing of the envelope primarily came from a desire to fit in, follow the trends of the day and be perceived as moderately attractive. Yet my religious community told me these evil desires came from a deep intentional eagerness in my heart to corrupt my brothers and invite their attention.

So all of this thought and tension and intentional discussion about my body and what I wore created a problem. It made me feel ashamed of my body and my sexuality and inextricably linked the two.

But that’s where everyone was wrong. My body is not inherently sexual.

It’s just a body; it is a glorious vessel for an even more glorious mind and soul.

It is this core idea – that a woman’s body is intrinsically sexual and an object of sensual lust and desire – that creates these terribly damaging standards for women. That makes us feel the need to cover our chests and protect our legs.

It is this value that has forced girls out of the classroom and home to change outfits. That has brought shame on those girls whose cup size is above average and who struggle to comfortably conceal their cleavage. It has brought guilt upon those who wish to dress for their own personal aesthetic desire. It has restricted women and kept us prisoners to the protection of the purity of men.

And for what purpose? These attempts to police our clothing are not only working to shame and hurt women but also convey the unrealistic expectation that all men are hetereosexual and constantly lust for intimacy with women. Are lesbians then free from these desires? School officials don’t promote dressing modestly as to not encourage the lesbians in class to think licentiously – it is all done in protection of the young boys and men (thus continuing to foster an extremely heteronormative society).  

So if you want to dress a certain way or show a specific amount of skin, do it. Do it for yourself. Your body is yours – it cannot be owned by another.  

By wearing an especially short dress or a low-cut top, you are not eliciting sexual responses from the men (or women) around you. Your clothes do not speak the thoughts of your mind or the promiscuity of your actions.

Instead, you can empower yourself by taking ownership of your body. You have every right to cover yourself completely in your garb of choice or expose your skin openly. Wear whatever you want – long pants and a turtleneck or crop tops and mini-skirts. Let’s not allow society (especially the patriarchy) to tell us how to dress and what our clothes say about who we are.

Your body, your choice.