My dad told me to dress modestly

As if the body I inhabit is a sin

I never heard him tell my brothers that

 

He argued that this body isn’t mines, it’s Gods

And that I’d be attracting the wrong attention

 

He told me about St. Cecilia

who covered her face with dirt and mud because she was so beautiful

How heroic and admirable

 

Does the way I dress tell the world something about me?

Perhaps

Does the way I dress tell the world “I am a slut?”

No

Clothes don’t say those words.

 

So what does the way I dress say?

Does it say I’m feminine or masculine?

Rich or Poor?

Does that matter?

 

We choose what we put on our bodies every day.

If others can pass judgements on our outfit, they must be able to pass judgments on what we didn’t decide to put on that day

Acne, cellulite, the extra fat on my belly and thighs

 

If a little girl wore the tank top I wear to the bar

It wouldn’t look the same

Maybe clothes aren’t the problem

It’s the bodies underneath.

 

It’s funny how a father tells his daughters to cover their bodies.

Yet praise from a man about her body is intoxicating

My body is a temple.

And temples are places of worship.

 

Covering her body is like hiding a secret

The more you hide it, the more power it has over you

Why give her appearance so much power

When her soul & bravery & love is what really makes her powerful.

 

My dad told me to thank God for how blessed I am to be beautiful.

It’s okay if I’m pretty, but I can’t be sexy.

My dad told me that dressing modestly was respectful to myself and others.

I’ve never tried to hide or change something I respect

 

In this body that I’m borrowing for this lifetime

I experience every sensation from pleasure to pain

I feel the twists and tugs in my lower abdomen once a month

I make decisions about it

I decide what I feed it

Which careful potions I put on my skin each morning and night

But others get to decide what’s “appropriate” for me to wear?

And what pills I can or can’t take every day?

 

Why can’t I also decide what clothes I wear

Why can’t people listen to my words instead of listening to the way I look?

 

Will you tell her that those with smaller bodies will receive a higher status?

Like having a smaller body is an accomplishment

And why is that so?

So much of the way we look is out of our control.

Let me control what I can.

Let her decide what she wears.

 

Tell her she owns her body.

Like you own a car.

The car is helpful. It’s valuable. But it’s not the most the most important part of life.

 

All cars look different.

That doesn’t mean one is better than another.

You can put whatever stickers or seat coverings you want on it.

The car will break down sometimes.

It will get scratches and rust

But as long as it’s still running

It works perfectly fine.