A couple of weeks ago, a young woman I know on Twitter posted a photo of the outfit she’d worn to her friend’s wedding. I thought she looked fantastic. I am always jealous of women who can wear pink, and this woman had picked out a dress in her perfect shade of pink and a handbag and lipstick to match. She snapped a proud selfie in the bathroom mirror before going to the church.
Most of us complimented her, but one random account with a religious painting for a photo was offended. “Cover those things!” he demanded.
I glanced over this person’s other tweets until I was pretty sure he was an actual human grouch, instead of a troll performing a spot-on parody. On his own wall, he’d tweeted “Young women need to learn the value of modesty!” a moment after his first remark; that’s how offended he was.
I looked back at the young woman’s photo.
Her perfect pink dress was opaque with a lace overlay. It fit properly, not so tightly that there were lumps. It went all the way up to the collarbone and down as far as I could see– she said later it was ankle-length. It had sleeves a little longer than cap sleeves. My Orthodox Jewish friends would have had no qualms wearing that dress to the synagogue with a cardigan to cover their elbows, it was that modest.
For a moment I didn’t know what the anonymous grouch was talking about. Some people jokingly quote-tweeted him with badly photoshopped copies of the woman in her dress, with the pictures on the wall behind her scribbled over. Somebody else asked if they wanted her to wear a niqab or a pair of sunglasses. I wondered if he was offended by her arms. But of course, it was her breasts. They were completely covered in loose fabric, but she was standing a little bit sideways, so you could still see that they existed. They weren’t invisible. She hadn’t gotten a mastectomy for the occasion. She was a three-dimensional and slightly curvy woman, and that was what the man considered immodest.
We laughed about this for a bit. When the young woman got back from the wedding, she posted a photo of the onion rings and lobster rolls that were served at the reception, and I replied “Cover those things! I’m on a diet!” and then we forgot the whole thing.
The other day I saw another tweet, from Professor C. C. Pecknold of Catholic University. Pecknold wrote in perfect seriousness: “Leggings have their place in the gym, but dresses are enobling, they elevate the male gaze to the portals of the soul.” He deleted the tweet later, but screenshots were taken.
For a solid minute, thanks to the previous discourse, I thought Professor Pecknold was referring to breasts. I’m still not one hundred per cent sure he’s not, to be honest, but I certainly hope he’s talking about the eyes. That got me thinking for a long time.
Dresses are enobling, apparently so enobling they cause people to look you in the eye and see right into your soul. What a dreadful thought. Perhaps that’s why the snootiest priests I know are always wearing cassocks with a lace surplice: they want to show off their pristine souls. Priests less sure about the state of their souls always walk around in a clerical black suit to deflect the soul gazing. Personally, if I thought they caused people to be able to read my soul, I would never put on a dress again. I have enough problems.
Dresses are enobling and elevate the male gaze. This seems like a good reason to do anything. Men apparently need their minds lifted out of the gutter. Let’s help them in any way we can. Perhaps all men should dress in drag at all times so that they can encourage one another in holiness. That would be fun. I can help with the makeup.
Dresses are enobling, unless of course you happen to be a woman and turn sideways, and then a man might get the idea that you have breasts. If a man gets the idea that you have breasts, you’re being immodest and you’re responsible for his impure thoughts. So only put on a dress if you’re two-dimensional and made of paper. If you’re any thicker than that, you should wear coveralls and never let anyone see you in profile. Don’t be a hussy.
Unless, of course, the problem with the male gaze is actually not women’s clothing in the first place.
It could be that the problem with the male gaze, is not in women but in the eye of the beholder.
If the eye is the portal to the soul, maybe you’d better learn to keep it from wandering.
If the portal to your soul offends you– well, Jesus had some pointed words about that.
Image via Pixabay
Mary Pezzulo is the author of Meditations on the Way of the Cross and Stumbling into Grace: How We Meet God in Tiny Works of Mercy.
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