Every time I read an article on the culture wars and our society's increasing sexualization of....everything....there are always comments about women's attire. Always the exhortation to "dress modestly" to protect the eyes and hearts of our menfolk. Well, damnit this grinds my gears, but not because I don't think we ought to help our brothers and sisters better themselves and admonish their faults, but because it makes me somehow responsible for someone's potentially deep-seated issue with lust. Think of the man who has looked at porn since childhood; his brain will respond differently to visual stimuli, to men and women, and alter nearly all of his relationships. His thoughts, conversation, and actions may all be bent toward scratching that festering but delicious itch of his lust. And you are telling me that wearing a maxi skirt everywhere is my duty to people like this? I mean, I'm all for dressing appropriately for situations - moral dilemma aside, a woman dressed like she is soliciting sex at, say, her kid's graduation, simply ain't got no class.
The tacky and immodestly dressed will always be among us. What to do?! While I am adorned in a long skirt (which frankly with my toned butt is not doing the men chained by lust any favors anyway) and cardigan, that "tramp" in the pew in front of us at Mass is showing FAR too much thigh. What can my husband do in the face of such temptation??
He can look away.
Yes, I just pinned responsibility for his thoughts and actions back on that man. My man. Your man. You and I. Miss Daisy Dukes isn't going anywhere, but he can move away or at least avert his eyes. We cannot control the choices other people are making, but we darn well can control ourselves.
I struggle at times with letting my admiration of the human form slide over into lust. Male, female - if there is a lot of exposed flesh, my eyes are riveted. I was in the gym when some big rugby tournament was on TV, and my treadmill was stationed directly in front of it. Almost imperceptibly, my pleasure in watching these masculine specimens hurl themselves at one another became an objectification. When I noticed it at first, I tried to laugh it off. Then I put myself in my husband's shoes; how would I feel if he were ogling beautiful women on TV? I knew exactly how I would feel - like I had been punched in the gut. Like the floor - and the important place I imagined I held in his heart - had collapsed beneath me. So I looked away.
I. Looked. Away.
I didn't complain to the manager for showing something provocative on TV, because who except a crazy person like me would be having an issue like this with a rugby match?! Lust can be so individual and take so many forms that it would be impossible to anticipate in one's dress or behavior what might or might not titillate another person. I also refrained from complaining to the woman on the treadmill next to me. It is likely that she was not having any issues whatsoever, though we were viewing the same game. If I had been unable to avert my eyes for some reason, I would have gotten on a different piece of equipment, or even left the gym. It was ultimately my responsibility to deal with my issue.
I think - and it's my blog so I get to say that often - that we should simply dress to suit the occasion. If we all hearken back to the classic rules of dress, this might not be so much of an issue. Of course, we also should embrace and respect the attire of other cultures, which may show more or less skin, colors, cuts, and fabrics. It is a wonderful and beautiful world, and someone struggling with lust could twist anything beautiful into fuel for their addiction. Or maybe, truly beautiful dressing - the kind that is an art, the kind that is so classy that you notice the woman and not her clothes - will serve to elevate everyone's thoughts among the murk and mud of our culture. So, I exhort you go forth and dress beautifully! Dress to impress! Dress in a way that suits the occasion, and that makes you feel beautiful! Because you are, a beautiful child of God.
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