The Modesty Debate

It's going around on Facebook again: the modesty debate. Different friends post different articles about modesty, each with their own valid opinion. And I'm tired of hearing about it. Honestly, I think it doesn't matter. Maybe that's not the right attitude to have. But last time I checked no one's salvation was hanging off the fact she decided to wear a mini skirt.
I remember reading the dress code for PRBI and complaining. It was something often discussed between girls in the dorm, something I sighed in frustration about to my friends and boyfriend when all I wanted to do was wear yoga pants and be comfortable, and something I personally never came to terms with.
I don't agree with everything written about modesty in the PRBI handbook. I don't agree with everything written about modesty in every blog post, news article and essay I've read.
So, if I don't think modesty is one of those issues worth fighting over, why am I writing a blog post on it? Mostly because I'm frustrated, and because these thoughts have been stirring up in my mind for a while now.
I'm more than willing to admit right now that my opinions could be wrong. In my mind whether or not I was on the wrong side of the modesty debate way back in college will not effect my eternal salvation. I don't think Jesus cares all that much if I decided to wear yoga pants to class one day. I think He's more concerned with my heart, and how I loved people, and how I served and how I lived my life.
I understand modesty. Growing up I was often told we didn't wear outfits that revealed too much skin in our house. I know the lectures about the first thing the eye wanders to, and keeping others from falling into temptation.
But I think the whole issue of modesty in our churches especially is contributing to rape culture. I believe that teaching girls and young women to cover up to prevent boys from stumbling is teaching her that her body is dangerous. Because she is told to cover up, she is told that her body is something to keep hidden, which can be interpreted to mean that her body is shameful. I got the talks where my parents and youth leaders and other well meaning adults tried to tell me that this isn't the case but as a high school and now college aged girl that's what I'm hearing. Instead of teaching a woman that she is a person of value with a mind, heart, soul and body, she is confined to the idea that she is a stumbling block. I heard it said from a secular perspective that when we tell a girl in class to change because she is being a distraction, we are subtly telling her that someone not being able to control himself is more important than her education. I believe the things we say to rape victims like "Well, what were you wearing?" only further pushes the issue that men cannot control their actions, and women are expected to cover up and show less skin to prevent unwanted advances.
Growing up my parents, sister and I occasionally had the conversation about why someone would want to dress like that. At least for me personally the answer is what I wear has little effect on my body image, self esteem... I wear shorter dresses because I like them and I like how I feel in them, not because I want to show anything off. And in terms of modesty what the length of my hemline or the cut of my shirt doesn't have anything to do with my relationship with God. I'm not less of a Christian for wearing yoga pants to the grocery store. I'm not more of a Christian because I wear long skirts.
One of the biggest arguments I've heard is that lack of modesty (however that is defined) is more of a stumbling block. I've talked about this with guys and girls, and I understand the perspective. I understand that for some people it's a really big issue, and they will do whatever it takes to help the "weaker brother." But during my relentless discussions on this topic with friends (guys and girls) I've heard this: "I'm tired of hearing that I (guys) don't have self control."
I've heard stories of girls (and been the girl) who were called out on the street wearing a hoodie and jeans. I think lust and stumbling will happen regardless of what a woman is wearing, and our thoughts should be more on what can we do to help work against rape culture rather than constantly criticize and comment on what someone is wearing.
In all honesty, I think the modesty debate doesn't matter. The world won't change because every single girl decides to cover up, even if it's out of love and genuine concern for those around her. I think the world will change when we start honestly telling girls that they are beautiful: mind, body, and soul. I believe the world will change when lessons on self control and respect are just as prevalent as those telling young women about modesty.

(While it's not a post specifically on modesty, I love Sarah Bessey's post on why she loves being friends with people who wear bikinis. I agree with a lot of her statements. That post actually inspired some of what's in this post. It's well worth the read. And I'm glad that I'm friends with people who wear bikinis too)

"You were not saved to be silent"

During the last month or so of school someone I love dearly said to me in a casual conversation, “So you’re a feminist then?” I’ve used the word to describe myself on numerous occasions, but this was the first time I’d heard the word used in a way that wasn’t entirely positive.

 And I am, and before that moment I would have proudly used that word to describe myself, but in that moment I hesitated. And I wish I hadn’t. I wish my response had been a loud and roaring yes. Yes, I’m a feminist because I believe women are people. I feel the reality of sisterhood all around the world inside of me and I can’t silence it, or look away. Women are being mistreated, abused, violated and wronged every single day and I can’t look away, or pretend it isn’t happening, or go back to my daily life where I eat lunch and drink coffee and am not profoundly moved in a deep way that all around the world women are being mistreated simply because they are women.

 And maybe I have some radical views on women in the church, and marriage and motherhood, rape culture and modesty. Maybe that makes me wrong. But if this is wrong, I don’t want to be right. I don’t want to stand by while women are being victimized all over the world. I don’t, in any way, want to bring myself to be part of the problem instead of part of the solution.

 Right now blog posts by amazing women authors and teachers and leaders who I respect are filling up my newsfeed, talking about ISIS and how it is brutally violating our women. And I can’t go back and eat my lunch and drink my coffee after reading about 9 year old girls being sold for as much as it costs to buy a pair of shoes, or mothers being separated from their children. My heart screams that we must do something, because when will we realize that women aren’t property but people? When will we stop destroying our most precious and valuable? When will we stop telling women that unless they are with a man they are nothing, that the only worth they have is the worth he assigns them?

 Years ago a fire was lit in my heart, a fire that burns bright and strong with a passion for women. I became determined not to live the rest of my life as a victim story.

 My dear friend wrote a post a while ago about how she’s gotten to where she is today only because she stood on the shoulders of giants. She wrote that she didn’t know why she got to be one of the lucky ones, but she did.

 I never thought of myself as one of the lucky ones. I know firsthand why we need feminism, why our world needs to adopt a way of thinking that reflects the idea that women matter, and I know the devastating consequences that it can have when even one woman believes she’s not worth it. But sitting here today, surrounded by so much love, finally thriving in my life and not just surviving, in my little house with my coffee, I realize I am one of the lucky ones. My life was never easy, but I made it. I am continuing to make it every single day.

 And with privilege comes responsibility. And I refuse to be silent about the things that matter, about the injustices happening around the world and in our own neighborhoods to mothers and daughters, sisters and friends and human beings. I was given a passion for women, and their stories, born out of the depths of my own story, and I refuse to sit down and do nothing.

 I feel things too deeply. And I feel this strong and steady like a heartbeat. My heart beats for women, for precious and valuable human beings for whom the world doesn’t know their worth. My heart aches and weeps over the injustices happening all over the world, and just down the street, to my sisters.

 I want to be a part of the people who shine like candles in the darkness, making a difference and speaking out about the things that mattered. I may be taking his words a little out of context but a teacher of mine this year always said “You weren’t saved to be silent.” I was not rescued from darkness to sit and let others stumble around in theirs.

 If I could go back to that conversation with my friend, when she asked if I was a feminist instead of hesitating I would say yes. I would say yes loudly and clearly because I believe women matter. If I could go back to every moment in my life where I didn’t reflect that thought, I would. I want to live out a life that reflects the idea that people matter.

 It all started with the radical belief that I mattered. And now I hear the heartbeat of people all around the world echoing my cry: We need to know we matter. We need to create a world that treats people like they matter.

 How can we be silent?

 

"We are sisters. We are a sisterhood. We belong to each other. We belong to the women who can’t read, we belong to the women who have been stripped of every hope, who are being sold in slave markets, whose daughters are coming back to them with ripped apart virginity. ISIS doesn’t own these women — they belong to us. They belong to the sisterhood of the world. When we live like we all belong to each other, we answer much of the longing in the world. 

When we understand that we are all made in the Image of God, the Imago Dei, we stand with each other and for each other and about each other. What ends the apathy and the trafficking and the racism and the fighting everywhere — is when we start seeing the Imago Dei in everyone.  

What ends the apathy and the trafficking and the racism and the fighting everywhere — is when we start seeing the Imago Dei in everyone. 

When we don’t belong to each other, we participate not only in the devastation of the world, but a desecration of the image of God"