As I was contemplating what I should wear this morning, my mind went back to something that happened about 3 years ago. On that day I was shuffling through my closet looking for something cute to wear and my eyes landed on a cute designer dress that I'd purchased (at a huge markdown) a few months ago but had not yet worn. The dress was chocolate brown, sleeveless, form fitting, and shorter than what I'd normally wear, but I'd just purchased an amazing pair of brown, peep-toed, four-inch pumps and shoes that fabulous required such a dress as the one I was eyeing in my closet.
Now, normally I have this thing about balance-- if the dress is short, it can't be worn with too high a heel; if it's strapless, then it can't be too form-fitting; if it's form-fitting, then it can't be too short, and so on and so forth. Mind you, my idea of short is longer than the mainstream idea of short, but it was still a daring choice for me, and on this day I decided to forego my "modesty benchmarks," if you will, and go with the riskier fashion choice.
So I put on my dress, my pumps, kept the hair and makeup simple and to a minimum (I didn't want to look like I was meeting Eliot Spitzer for "coffee"), and with a confident stride descended down the steps of my apartment complex, as "She's a Bad Mama-Jama" played softly in the distance... I kid, I kid, but seriously, I thought I was cute that day ;-)
As soon as I got to the bottom step I saw a family of three tossing a football in the parking lot. I'd never seen this family before (or since then); a man, his wife and their young son. They were obviously Muslim, as the wife was wearing full hijab.
As I headed to my car the man took one look at me and quickly averted his eyes, discretely diverting the attention of his young son as well. It wasn't a rude gesture, or obvious, or judgmental. I don't even believe that he wanted me to notice his reaction...
But I could tell that he had seen me and had immediately wanted to UN-see me, and I instantly felt ashamed; not because my attire was inherently inappropriate, but because I had put this religious man in an uncomfortable situation. I didn't care what he thought about me, but I cared that I made him uncomfortable, and was a bit mortified at the implication- that I was something to be avoided, a vice or temptation that one must shield his eyes from...
Although, I didn't share this man's Muslim faith and certainly not his views on modesty (I'm not about to be head-to-toe covered in the summertime), he served as a reminder of my own faith and standards concerning modesty. You see, I don't believe there's a universal standard for modesty. But I do believe that modesty is an expression of what is in one's heart and that the manifestations of what is in the heart should be outward, not just buried in the heart.
It's simply not good enough for me to say "God knows my heart" when it comes to how I present myself to the world around me, because what sense does it make for me to allow the truths of my HEART to be a mystery to man, then readily reveal the secrets of my BODY to all of mankind? Am I to be coy about the expression of my heart, but unabashed in the expression of my sexuality? Surely not. It's an oversimplification of who I am, which is not just body, but heart, mind, and soul... all of which have something to say, and should speak louder than my clothes.
So dress however you want, but as for me, I want people to recognize me for my heart, not just for something as superficial and fleeting as my looks or even my intellect because those things can fade away.
But the heart is enduring, and I'd rather not disguise my heart or silence it with a provocative exterior.
Just a thought...
Now, normally I have this thing about balance-- if the dress is short, it can't be worn with too high a heel; if it's strapless, then it can't be too form-fitting; if it's form-fitting, then it can't be too short, and so on and so forth. Mind you, my idea of short is longer than the mainstream idea of short, but it was still a daring choice for me, and on this day I decided to forego my "modesty benchmarks," if you will, and go with the riskier fashion choice.
So I put on my dress, my pumps, kept the hair and makeup simple and to a minimum (I didn't want to look like I was meeting Eliot Spitzer for "coffee"), and with a confident stride descended down the steps of my apartment complex, as "She's a Bad Mama-Jama" played softly in the distance... I kid, I kid, but seriously, I thought I was cute that day ;-)
As soon as I got to the bottom step I saw a family of three tossing a football in the parking lot. I'd never seen this family before (or since then); a man, his wife and their young son. They were obviously Muslim, as the wife was wearing full hijab.
As I headed to my car the man took one look at me and quickly averted his eyes, discretely diverting the attention of his young son as well. It wasn't a rude gesture, or obvious, or judgmental. I don't even believe that he wanted me to notice his reaction...
But I could tell that he had seen me and had immediately wanted to UN-see me, and I instantly felt ashamed; not because my attire was inherently inappropriate, but because I had put this religious man in an uncomfortable situation. I didn't care what he thought about me, but I cared that I made him uncomfortable, and was a bit mortified at the implication- that I was something to be avoided, a vice or temptation that one must shield his eyes from...
Although, I didn't share this man's Muslim faith and certainly not his views on modesty (I'm not about to be head-to-toe covered in the summertime), he served as a reminder of my own faith and standards concerning modesty. You see, I don't believe there's a universal standard for modesty. But I do believe that modesty is an expression of what is in one's heart and that the manifestations of what is in the heart should be outward, not just buried in the heart.
It's simply not good enough for me to say "God knows my heart" when it comes to how I present myself to the world around me, because what sense does it make for me to allow the truths of my HEART to be a mystery to man, then readily reveal the secrets of my BODY to all of mankind? Am I to be coy about the expression of my heart, but unabashed in the expression of my sexuality? Surely not. It's an oversimplification of who I am, which is not just body, but heart, mind, and soul... all of which have something to say, and should speak louder than my clothes.
So dress however you want, but as for me, I want people to recognize me for my heart, not just for something as superficial and fleeting as my looks or even my intellect because those things can fade away.
But the heart is enduring, and I'd rather not disguise my heart or silence it with a provocative exterior.
Just a thought...
