My Clothes Don't Make Your Man
Anyone who is a regular reader of my blog knows that I have very strong feelings about dress codes, particularly as they pertain to holding girls accountable for the educational experience of boys. So you can only imagine my reaction to the recent spate of controversy about leggings. This week, I examine why the continuing conversation is so damaging to girls and why we should stop holding women responsible for the thoughts of men.
By now, you are likely familiar with the letter written by the Notre Dame mother, asking girls to stop wearing leggings to school because it makes it harder for her to teach her sons to be good. If you aren’t, take a minute to check it out here and, if you are like me, then you may need to spend a minute just screaming in your living room. It is okay, I’ll wait here.
Now that you are back, let’s talk about it. To start, I suppose that I should confess that I have a somewhat complicated history with leggings. I was definitely part of the “leggings aren’t pants” crew when they started becoming popular outside of gyms. It wasn’t because of their distracting power, rather it was about the ideas I had concerning work-out versus non-work-out wear. But, as leggings have become ubiquitous and more stylish, I have changed my tune. But I do still remember the days when I lamented the number of leggings that I saw at work and in school on a daily basis. I hope this confession demonstrates that, though now I am a fan of leggings, I can still speak about them without bias.
I don’t want this blog to just turn into some sort of rant about how we continually comment on women’s bodies and attempt to hold them accountable for men’s thoughts and how that kind of thinking encourages rape culture and victim blaming. So, I’d like to address a few quotes from the “Notre Dame Mom’s” letter.
“The emergence of leggings as pants some years ago baffled me. They’re such an unforgiving garment. Last fall, they obtruded painfully on my landscape.”
So, let’s start by talking about things that are painful for women. Existing in a world that commodifies their bodies and uses those bodies to sell everything from hamburgers to cars? Painful. Being told that you are responsible for your own sexual assault because you wore a short skirt, tank top, or high heel? Painful. Being forced by school administrators to put on a dirty, gym locker t-shirt because they don’t approve of your outfit? Painful. Seeing a woman wearing leggings in public? NOT PAINFUL. Full stop. It is not up to you to decide what a woman wears in public, in the same way that you do not get to decide what car she drives or what kind of bagel she orders. If you don’t like her clothes, don’t look. But this, dear lady, is not pain.
“These are not just my sons — they’re the fathers and brothers of your friends, the male students in your classes, the men of every variety who visit campus.”
Hey there, college girl attending church, guess what!? You aren’t only responsible for the thoughts of my sons, you are responsible for the thoughts of every man on campus! Let’s all say it again, together, and very loudly - women’s bodies are not to blame for the ways men think about them. Not fathers, brothers, sons, or male students in class. You know who is responsible for those? The men. This is not only an insult to women, but it takes away all of the agency of men. Infantilizing men and reducing them to simply mindless, sex-crazed drones does not serve your sons and it doesn’t serve the cause of societal equality. Men control their own minds.
“I’m fretting both because of unsavory guys who are looking at you creepily and nice guys who are doing everything to avoid looking at you.”
The idea that she is saying these things to protect women is particularly bothersome because it again feeds the narrative that women’s clothes are the reason for men’s bad behavior and, if women really wanted to be safe, they would cover themselves entirely. This kind of thinking is the same thinking that leads to women being told that they are responsible for their own sexual assault. It is pernicious, it is insulting, and, most importantly, it is wrong. Nothing drives this home more than the “What I Was Wearing” exhibit. I wonder if this editorial writer would say the same things looking at the clothes of young girls and young teens.
“Could you think of the mothers of sons the next time you go shopping and consider choosing jeans instead?”
In a word, no. I will not think of the mothers of sons or the sons when I go clothes shopping next time. In the same way that I would not expect that my father, my students, or my male students would think of me when they pick out their clothes. I will think about comfort, I will think about what feels right, and I will think about myself. I will not let the thoughts of some hypothetical man out there determine what I put on my body. I hope, dear reader, that you won’t either.