dressing for divinty
Growing up as a pastor’s daughter, I felt pressure coming from all directions dictating what I should wear. Dressing for church, shopping with my mother, and picking out clothes for a night out all involved complicated decisions as I tried to find an outfit that would look good, be comfortable, and not reveal too much. Or reveal just enough? I stood in front of a mirror countless times, wondering if I was dressing for myself or for others.
To work out some of these questions, I called up some friends with different religious and cultural backgrounds than mine. We had a long conversation, ate way too many sour patch kids, and learned some things about each other. Keep in mind these are our own thoughts and not a reflection of Studio 412 as a whole, and buckle in for a *spicy* conversation about religion, clothing, and the patriarchy.
A brief introduction: Our names, religions, and backgrounds.
HARSHENI: Freshman, Hindu, and one of my roommates. A public health major with a knack for discovering high lead levels in my favorite foods.
FIZZA & TASBEEH: Freshman, Muslim, New Jersey natives. Identical twins and microbiology and molecular biology majors, respectively.
LIZZIE: Freshman, Christian, political science major and narrator of this piece.
Was modesty something that you thought about growing up? Was it tied to religion in any way? Were the adults in your life impressing it on you in any way?
LIZZIE: My mom was the enforcer of the dress code—she would check me before I went out the door every day, and sometimes she would say “Turn around! Different outfit!” There were things I could wear to school but not to church. I also went to a Christian camp where I couldn’t wear two-piece bathing suits. Which makes sense on one hand, because two-pieces aren’t very practical if you’re being flung off of the Blob. But on the other hand, there was this element of the girls needing to be modest.
TASBEEH: Were the guys expected to wear shirts?
LIZZIE: No.
FIZZA: In Islam, there’s a point where you become “wajib”, which is like a coming of age. For women, it’s 9, and for men it’s 15. That’s when you’re supposed to start wearing hijab. For us, we stopped wearing shorts. I wore short sleeves until I was twelve, which technically you’re not supposed to do, and then I switched into long sleeves, long pants. I didn’t start the scarf until this summer. It’s been a kind of leaning into modesty—never anything our parents forced on us, although they obviously had an influence. My mom wears a scarf.
TASBEEH: Something I didn’t know until I started hijab is that not only are you not supposed to show your hair but you also shouldn’t show your neck and collarbones. That’s to protect your “aura”. Men have an aura too, which they would protect by covering their chest and their knees. I don’t know any man in my life who covers their aura, but I know lots of women who do it.
HARSHENI: As I got older, there was some pressure to be modest to “protect myself”, but my mom is pretty chill about it. But even now, I don’t wear short-shorts, and dresses and skirts I wear just above my knee.
LIZZIE: Was that decision a religious thing?
HARSHENI: More of a cultural thing. The way my parents grew up in India had a big influence on me—my dad grew up in a village where there’s unspoken rules about modesty. But if I’m going to a temple, I’m fully covered, out of respect. Even if I was going to church or another religious place, I would cover up.
Besides religion and culture, what influences the way you dress?
FIZZA: I feel like I wouldn’t be dressing this way if I wasn’t Muslim. There’s so many other things I would rather be wearing, but I have to set a limit for myself. I used to wear a lot of v-necks, because I love my collarbones. Finding cute clothing that’s modest, especially for the summer, is so hard. That’s why I’m much more of a fall/winter girl.
TASBEEH: I used to think that I was modest enough as long as I wasn’t showing skin, but my perspective on that has changed since I started wearing the scarf. But if I try to switch too much too quickly, I start hating the way I look.
LIZZIE: I feel like in my life there’s a tension between wanting to be modest and wanting to look attractive—and with that, wondering if I’m dressing for myself or for guys.
TASBEEH: As a pastor’s daughter, did people have a higher expectation for the way you dressed?
LIZZIE: I was very lucky in that my church didn’t put that much scrutiny on me. Maybe there was a little more attention, because everyone knew who I was.
HARSHENI: I’m realizing now I didn’t have much of a say in my wardrobe until high school...my mom often picked out my clothes for me, and I just went along with it. But I got closer to my mom during quarantine, and we had more conversations about clothes then. Now I dress in a way that’s comfortable to me, where I feel cute but comfortable in terms of modesty.
Do you think guys should think about modesty more?
TASBEEH: One hundred percent. I don’t know what side of Instagram you guys are on, but I’m on this religious, Muslim side…
FIZZA: It’s fake religious.
TASBEEH: There’s people saying “women shouldn’t wear this, this, and this, because you’ll attract men”, and it’s the wackiest stuff I swear I’ve never heard before in my life. And they don’t say anything about men.
FIZZA: There’s an idea—I’m sure this is in the Bible as well—that people shouldn’t judge others because they themselves aren’t perfect. If a man isn’t trying to be modest, he shouldn’t be saying anything about women.
HARSHENI: I am going to bring this back to the patriarchy. *Laughter* The way that guys can just walk around shirtless…and if you see a guy walking around in a Speedo at the pool, no one asks any questions. In most religions, modesty is pushed more on women.
FIZZA: I will say…the one place that had modesty rules for men was our Saturday school. They couldn’t wear shorts.
HARSHENI: That’s the same for temples. There’s this one temple in New Jersey where I’ve been handed a dhoti for modesty, and the last time we were there they gave one to my brother! In terms of Indian culture, I’m going to blame the British for everything.
LIZZIE: As you should.
HARSHENI: In Hindu scriptures, there’s lots of stories about equality between men and women. There’s even a god that’s half man, half woman. The British came in and ruined everything. The blouse worn under the sari only came about because of the British…the entire point of the sari is that it’s a giant piece of cloth tied in a way that can fully cover you.
How would you define modesty, and why is it important?
TASBEEH: I feel like modesty really does not have a definition. It’s what you make of it. For me, it’s important and helpful because it lets me know who’s on the same track as me in Islam. Also, you can be a bad Muslim and wear hijab. Don’t get me wrong—hijab is important. But it’s your version of your utmost modesty, and that looks different for different people.
FIZZA: Modesty can also look different based on the culture you’re living in.
HARSHENI: For me, modesty is important as a sign of respect when I’m in temple, or if I’m praying.
LIZZIE: That’s a very valid point, but something that drives me crazy is when I’m around other Christians, and they start slut-shaming women behind their backs.
FIZZA: That is so annoying. It just pushes people away. Biggest pet peeve.
From here, the conversation meandered away from clothes and onto all sorts of other religious topics. Following our general theme of religion and the patriarchy, we discussed marriage, fasting, and periods. Although we weren’t able to wrap things up neatly, we learned a lot about each other and ourselves.
I love conversations like this. I can’t speak for Harsheni, Tasbeeh, and Fizza, but growing in my understanding of other cultures and religions helps me grow in my own faith and respect women who come from other practices.