As long as we continue with our current narrative, no matter what women wear, there will be something that is sexualized. Ankles peeking out from under long skirts used to be scandalous, and maybe in some places still are…there’s always this image:

It’s almost like what a woman is wearing isn’t the problem.

I had a discussion about modesty recently, where I was asked how I’d feel if a man showed up at my house in [insert item of clothing that leaves little to the imagination]. Would I be uncomfortable?

Yes. I probably would.

The next question I’d like to ask is, does my discomfort give me the right to ask someone to change?

Following that, I’d like to shift the conversation.

Why am I uncomfortable?

Discomfort from Unfamiliarity: Sometimes we might be uncomfortable around something that we aren’t used to. If a man showed up at my house in a sling style swimming suit, I’d be uncomfortable. I’m not used to that kind of clothing on someone. Similar to how I’d feel at a nude beach. I’m just not used to it, so it feels uncomfortable.

Discomfort from Threat: This can be similar to discomfort by unfamiliarity, but it goes to the next level. Instead of our discomfort being caused by something we have no experience with, the exposure (pardon the pun) actually feels threatening in some way to our own value system. If my parents had a very strict belief in hemline modesty, and I came to their house dressed in a way that was outside of their value system, they might feel my clothing choices were a threat to their values- or that I was challenging their values in some way.

Discomfort from Shame: While the first two are probably fairly common issues in the hemline modesty discussions, I think this is the one that causes the most problems for otherwise well-meaning individuals. If a man shows up at my party in revealing clothing and I feel aroused, I might feel shame. Sometimes at church we inadvertently send the message to youth that arousal is shameful. Even when we manage to present marital intimacy as a beautiful thing, we still send the message that arousal outside of marriage is shameful.

Here’s the thing that I think we do differently when it comes to socializing men and women. If a man showed up at my party scantily dressed, I *might* be uncomfortable. If I found him attractive, I might be aroused. And then I’d deal with it, which generally for me, might mean, I appreciate his physique, recognize the attraction, and the arousal, and then move on. Because I don’t (subconsciously or not) view every male that arouses me as a possible sexual partner.

I think my experience is fairly normal among mormon women (I may be wrong, but from women I’ve talked to, this seems pretty normal). I don’t think we teach men that way. I’ve had some men tell me that you can’t teach men that way, because they are naturally more visual. That doesn’t really seem to be true either, as it’s difficult to separate biology and socialization.

I remember growing up, hearing stories of young men who went to pick up their dates for prom, only to find the girl dressed immodestly, and being praised for asking the girl to go change.

We are not teaching boys to acknowledge, appreciate, and move on. We are teaching boys to panic that the way a girl or woman is dressed is going to cause them unwanted sexual feelings.

We are teaching them to feel shame over their normal physical response. Shame creates a nasty cycle that makes them more likely to notice and be aroused by women’s bodies, which makes them feel more shame.

We’re training boys to drown in the shame of their own sexuality. In hopes of saving them, we’re asking girls to not only stay out of the water, but to avoid the pool entirely.

What if instead of celebrating boys who ask girls to cover up, we normalize their sexuality. I really like how Paul Malan talks about it in his post, The Naked People in your iPod (if you’ve never read it, go do it now, and talk about it with your teenagers). He talks about the difference between physiology, morality, and religion and how understanding the difference between these three things can help us accept our reality (our physiology) and then choose what to do with it (which may be informed by our morality and our religion).

And ultimately, that’s the key here- to really evaluate where our discomfort comes from. To accept our reality, and then to make thoughtful, purposeful choices about what we want to do with it.

What if we taught boys that it’s okay to be aroused? What if they didn’t feel shame at being turned on by a girl in a sports bra and running shorts? Without the shame, would there be the discomfort? I don’t think there would be.