Tonight, we stepped onto the slippery slope towards family disconnection and teenage delinquency - we ate with our dinner plates balanced on our laps, in front of the tv. Usually, I insist that we eat around the table, all together, no devices allowed. This decline in standards was due to a new family obsession - a reality show centred around a famous little plastic brick. I’m in charge of muting the episode preview while everyone else covers their eyes so as not to spoil the viewing ahead. When I turn the volume up, the show begins with its trio of hosts explaining the contestants’ building challenge for the night.
But, tonight, rather than listening to the criteria the contestants were to work to, my mind was consumed by the female host’s skirt. Not because it was particularly fabulous or unique and I wondered where I might get one like hers. But because it almost wasn’t there. Depending on how she moved, her fashionable double-breasted blazer revealed a strip of black fabric meant to be a skirt. Later in the show, when the hosts had shifted to sit on couches, I wondered how long it had taken the wearer to arrange her skirt so that viewers wouldn’t catch a glimpse of her knickers.
It all reminded me of Bridget’s “non-existent skirt” in the movie Bridget Jones’ Diary, over which Hugh Grant and Renee Zellweger’s characters exchange flirtatious emails about its length. It was a comedy point back then but what was it now, 20 years later, on a family tv show? Was I being old-fashioned, feeling uncomfortable about it? I really didn’t know.
You see, I’m pretty late to Feminism. It wasn’t something we talked about around our family dinner table. In the 80s, women were working outside the home and The Pill was available - hadn’t Feminism done its job? With little grounding in this area, I’m slow to see just how many forces might be at play when a woman wears a very short skirt.
To figure out my stance on the skirt, it seemed important to ask “whose choice had it been for the host to wear that particular skirt?” Had tv executives coaxed her into it to hold the attention of the Dads and teen boys, who likely had money to buy the featured product and those of advertisers? She did have phenomenally long legs that were shown off by the mini mini skirt. Perhaps she felt great about how she looked in it and that’s what mattered most? It’s empowering for a woman to wear clothing she feels good in. I couldn’t, though, imagine her choosing this particular skirt, knowing the majority of viewers would be primary-school-aged children and their parents. I suspected the choice hadn’t been hers.
I also took note of what the male tv hosts were wearing. One wore a smart-casual look - black t-shirt and charcoal blazer with relaxed-fit trousers. The other looked dapper in a 3-piece tweed suit. I liked their style but the only skin they had on view were their faces and hands. Nothing was tight and they appeared comfortable in what they were wearing. I doubted either of them gave a moment’s thought to how they were going to sit on the couch.
I squirmed as I watched and looked over at my sons, trying to pick out whether they’d registered the state of this skirt. At 7 and 10 years of age, they appeared not to have noticed, too distracted by the show. But I knew they’d absorb something from the images. Should I pause the show and say something? Should I turn the tv off?
Having not had these discussions in my own childhood home, I didn’t know how to begin the conversation. Suddenly, all the discussions I hadn’t yet had with my boys were like glaring holes in my parenting - what it means to dress “sexy”; how the choice to wear a revealing item doesn’t imply consent; how women are objectified to attract male consumers... I also expected that, if I raised the issue, my husband might complain that I was pointing out something our boys hadn’t even noticed and ruining a fun night of family viewing. I decided I’d let them watch the show then talk to them about it afterwards.
But, regrettably, I didn’t. The show finished and my husband and I nipped at our boys’ heels to get them through the bedtime routine and tucked in at a decent hour. A storybook seemed more appropriate than a lesson on sexism, clothing and society. So, I’ve come to bed with the skirt still taunting me and the sense that I have a lot of work to do. Sitting here, tapping on my laptop, some related scenarios have come to mind -
- I have a relative who comes to family functions in dresses that could be confused with lingerie. I know I sound prudish describing the dresses in this way but it tells you what you need to know. She’s intelligent, caring and a person of integrity but I’ve always felt that she undermines herself by wearing so little. I want her to feel confident in her own skin but I know that dressing that way strips her of her intelligence, kindness and integrity in the minds of many. Surely she knows that? I’d never accuse her of not having self-respect (a popular line used to criticise women who make clothing choices such as hers) but I do find her choices confusing. Each time I see her, I wonder what position to take on the issue - do we women wear what we want to or do we consider the first impression our appearance makes and tone it down if our tastes are revealing?
- Between work, school and afternoon activities, our family watched snippets of the Tokyo Olympics. One evening we tuned in while the women’s beach volleyball was on. I was astonished to see that, in 2021, at the Olypmics, the women were wearing bikinis for their event. My first question was, “how many athletes had chosen not to pursue beach volleyball because of the clothes they’d be expected to wear?” I wondered whether the women felt taken seriously as athletes, given they were wearing the same as they'd wear on a tropical holiday with their partner or friends. I looked up images of the men’s Olympic beach volleyball. Sure enough, they were wearing loose-fitting shorts and singlets. Their bodies were far better protected from other people’s eyes and opinions as well as from the sun and sand. As the Olympics went on, I spotted other examples of female athletes wearing more revealing, less practical clothing than their male counterparts. I noticed how the togs the female divers wore were so high-legged that they showed the women’s hip bones. The divers had to keep pulling the backs of their togs down to keep their bottoms covered.
- An open letter written by a mother asking other women not to wear leggings in front of her sons provoked outrage a number of years ago. Her concern was that leggings were too revealing of the female form and distracting for males, including her boys. The backlash was strong. Facebook Groups called Leggings Day, Love Your Leggings and Leggings Pride Day popped up. It wasn’t this mother’s job to tell other women what to wear. But she could talk to her sons. And that’s the point. That women (or anyone else) should be able to wear what they want and shouldn’t be told what to wear by another person, whether by another woman, their boss or anyone else. As well as that, while our outfits shouldn’t affect how people view us and treat us, we have to know that they do.
Since the missing skirt episode first aired and I drafted this piece of writing, the female host has worn trousers every time. Did other mothers write in to point out all the ways the skirt was problematic? In that time, I’ve also opened up the conversation with my boys. Clothing, bodies, sexism… it’s multifaceted and complex. I’m taking baby steps, making a comment or asking my sons a thought-provoking question when the opportunities come up. And they come up remarkably often.
I’ve realised, to my relief, that I don’t have to bite it all off at once. I don’t have to know it all and present my sons with a clear and thorough dissertation on the topic. I just have to be willing to say something when an issue arises. Yesterday, I pointed out how female Olympic runners were wearing bikini bottoms while male athletes wore shorts. “Why do you think that it is?” My boys shrugged in unison and returned their attention to the race. We’re just beginning. But, if I say something every time, I can gradually build for us all an understanding of what’s going on. Myself included.
What’s true for you?
(Prompts for your journal or the comments)
What resonated with and what ruffled you as you read this piece?
Does seeing a woman revealingly dressed in a “family-friendly situation” make you uncomfortable? What thoughts and feelings does it provoke in you?
What do you think our children need to know about how they and other people dress?
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