My journey to embracing modesty would be incomplete without “the step, step, pull down” and Wendy Shalit.
I have had three major clothing conversions in my life. The first was when I acknowledged that, although I could get attention from men based on my body, that was not the kind of attention I wanted, so I needed to wear more clothing. The second was when I realized that I was dressing better for work than I was for church. That was convicting, let me tell you. The third was recently, when I starting phasing out my many polo shirts for clothes that actually suit my body type. It’s been a slow process to dressing like an adult, much like the process of becoming an adult.
“The step, step, pull down” is a phrase coined by my pastoral associate when I was in undergrad, a lovely woman named Michelle Sesny (then Michelle Carper). She organized a book club to discuss Girls Gone Mild (now in paperback as The Good Girl Revolution), by a young Jewish woman named Wendy Shalit. Michelle could see that the female students on our campus had been caught in the culture of immodesty, particularly in the way they dressed. Their skirts were so ridiculously and uncomfortably short, she explained, that they could barely take two steps without pausing to pull them down. Step, step, pull down. Step, step, pull down. This was absurd—but in reading and discussing Wendy’s book, we found hope and evangelized our campus to know that there was something more than what the culture had to offer. We didn’t have to put up with “the step, step, pull down.”
I’m embarrassed that it took so many years for me to get around to the original book! Girls Gone Mild was a hopeful look at the rise of modest young women since Shalit’s original book, an extended essay from her own undergraduate years called A Return to Modesty: Rediscovering the Lost Virtue. It is that earlier work, now reissued for its fifteenth anniversary, that I propose for your reading pleasure.
The essay is presented in three parts. First, the problem: we have been conditioned to believe that embarrassment is to be avoided at all costs, despite the reality of a well-formed conscience that tells you something just isn’t right. We are told to separate sex from emotion, and when boys who have been trained to do so commit sexual crimes against women (all too often before they have even grown into men), we wonder what happened. But it was our fault. After all, we taught them that boys and girls are no different, not even biologically, so they reasoned that if they want sex, she must want it, too. We told the women they could wear micro-miniskirts, so if a woman finds herself doing “the step, step, pull down,” she clearly just needs to stop pulling her skirt down!
Ugh.
Second is the “forgotten ideal,” a detailed examination of the way modesty was previously discussed (albeit infrequently, because, well, that would be immodest!), lived out, and innately understood. We didn’t need sexual harassment to be legislated against when it was rare, and we somehow don’t question why such suits are almost always filed by women. We no longer challenge men to be honorable, but we wonder why so many of them treat women so terribly (and of course, because we’ve told women they must act like men, they’re treating men no better). Despite every attempt for “liberation,” the person we must become has merely changed attributes. “In this post-sexual revolution era, a young woman may freely cohabit,” Shalit writes, “but she may not choose to wait. If she does, there must be something wrong with her.”
That’s sad.
Finally comes a sliver of hope. Shalit shares personal stories of returning to treating sex as something significant (which it is), women who long for reassurance that it’s okay to have feelings and to want love as part of their sexual relationships, and the rise of modesty both secular and religious. The best part is that, at least from my point of view (and Shalit’s, in her second book), the return to modesty has taken hold for the better.
Those of our parents’ generation tell us that we we’re too young and “optimistic,” that we don’t understand, that we can’t just take back the sexual and motherhood revolutions. Well, why not? Do you have a monopoly on revolutions?
I offer a few words to those of you who are considering reading this book. Shalit’s degree is in philosophy, so if you’re not familiar with reading philosophy or theology, you might get bogged down a little. This book does not tell you specifics on how to solve the problem, although it does a great job of describing it. Furthermore, it is about sexual modesty primarily, so it contains frank, illustrated descriptions of the exact problems it tackles. This may not be the best book for your young teens, but your mileage may vary.
In the end, I’m glad I read this book for two reasons. It helped me get a much deeper view of the problems our society created for itself by rejecting modesty, and it filled me with joy that my friends and I have begun to rebuild. The sexual revolution made too many promises that it didn’t keep. Let’s keep pushing for a new revolution.
Lindsey, I appreciate what you have to say here and understand how important of an issue it is for men and women. I mean that. But, I need to be honest, as a man, I am starting to read more and more of these posts and wind of feeling sad, confused, and quite frankly, hurt and deeply misunderstood. I am really sad right now as I write this.
I don’t say this often, but I have prayed about it all morning and feel led to. I am a 55 year old man, a therapist in town and a former Protestant pastor. I have always loved the Catholic faith and its deep beauty, and until recently, was pretty close to converting. Really close. In seminary, I read Thomas Merton and other Catholic writers, because we were ecumenical, I never knew anything different . One faith, different expressions.
As a man, I worked alongside a lot of women. Some called themselves feminists, some didn’t, some didn’t care about those things. I considered myself a feminist simply because I deeply respect the innate power and beauty of women and the feminine. And am proud for being around them and hearing their unique wisdom and insight. And to serve them, different, yet equal, our differences educational and sacred.
For the life of me, I never once heard that feminism meant that men and women were the same. Never. Maybe I was naïve, but it never came up like that. I even studied femininist theology and that was never spoken of.
Reading your blog and some others, like Brit’s, really confuses and saddens me even though I totally agree that women shoud never, ever be objectified or treated like sex objects. No one should. It is not honoring the unique image of God in us.
I was molested as a young boy by a woman, a caregiver. It doesn’t make all women molesters. But it profoundly wounded me, and with all of the therapy I have had (I turned it into the gift of being a wounded healer, with God’s help) I still have nightmares, panic attacks and the smell of tobacco smoke and whiskey still makes me nauseus and really “triggers” me, as they say.
I have learned to be kind to myself. It happen. I survived. I offer hope and healing to others. I am a male, and I am proud to say I don’t think about sex every five minutes, I respect women deeply, and I value some deep and platonic friendships with women that is based on honesty, openness and respect. But I still get very afraid, and, to be honest, sex still frightens me and sometimes sexually aggressive women make me feel like a little boy and I get very shy and I get deeply ashamed. I still do. I can love myself now, though, as God loves little broken me.
My church experience has not always been very receptive to folk like me who often wonder where God was when it happened. Not because the church is bad or evil but because this stuff doesn’t get talk about except in stereotypes which can be very destructive. And I don’t mean your blog, Lindsey. I often wondered where God was when that was happened and prayed He would take from it. It didn’t happen then.I know now He was there, but it is a question that lingers in my worst moments. But to be honest, It has made me a better counselor. I understand doubt and wondering where God is. And I just listen.. I am real sensitive to peoole who try to pigeonhole me as some “lady’s man” because I have been physically attractive in my life. I am not that simple.
When I was about to join the Catholic church, I asked a female Catholic friend who I trusted deeply if I was not supposed to take communion. I wasn’t sure with all of the changes in the Catholic Church. She, I assume rather innocently, said, “no. You date someone before you have sex with them”. I was shocked and appalled by this analogy. I sort of made a joke of it, and said “you may not want to use that analogy wtth everyone” and she said “well, I’m using it with you”.
She didn’t know, but I that really, really bothered me, More than I wanted to. Every time I went into a Cathollic church I felt angry and betrayed. And I didn’t want to. And my anger with her was something I couldn’t get over, although I tried and prayed. I finally ended our friendship, deeply saddened because I trusted her and she was a spiritual friend and those don’t grow on trees. I still miss her but the wound is too fresh.
I had the provential experience of talking to a Catholic priest in a lot of pain about that, protected her identity and he showed me a lot of compassion and understanding, saying that was a very unfortunate analogy and the eucharist shouldn’t be linked with high school sexual analogies. It is healing.
I say this because I have many men and women who want so much to be a part of church and the Body Of Christ. But they are as confused and saddened but this kind of dialogue that they don’t see where they fit in it.
This stuff is good, Lindsey, really. But I am not alone in that sometimes it also makes me sad and just tired of hearing about it. Not because it doesn’t happen, it does Way too much. But I am not sure this is the solution to it. I don’t know. I really don’t..But this blog made me real sad…
I have made this and other sites available to my cliients have encouraged them to speak out and find their faith home. More Catholics than you know and that surprises me. Somehow I help them. And I don’t try to dump my confusion, I just try to hear them and love them.
I am going to stop doing this with some sadness. But I want to speak not just for myself but for a lot of unchurched folk who want to join their faith but feel “less than” or just downright confused. They are out there. So, thanks for hearing this Lindsey and God bless. Seriously, I am not angry, such sad, confused and a bit tired right now. Take care.
Mark, thank you for your comment. I’m sorry for what happened to you, and I’m glad that you have been able to regain your trust in God.
I write from my experience and my reading. In both, the version of feminism I have encountered says that women are supposed to be the same as men. That might not be “real feminism,” but it’s the impression I get, and it’s not true. Wendy Shalit argues for right relationships between men and women, and I agree with her in this book.
Mark, as a fellow survivor, I understand the negative feelings you are talking about. Confusion and pain like this kept me from the Church longer than necessary. Now I would say that Church teaching on human sexuality, such as the work of John Paul II, Theology of the Body, have been deeply healing for me. Teaching Natural Family Planning, for seven years, oddly enough, and Natural Family Planning itself, was deeply healing for me. This has been so for other survivors too. Over the years, I have gotten past feeling weird and walking out of a mass, or being shaken up enough to throw the offending books, to finding a whole universe of beauty and healing in my faith. That article I wrote about Elijah was kind of about that question, “Where were you when this happened?” I am not sure this question has been answered in the way I used to want it to be. I admire your continuing to read and respond and search, especially that you use your experience of suffering to help others. As for what your friend said, I understand why it freaked you out. I wish she hadn’t said it like that. There are some beautiful connections between the Eucharist and marriage. And they are so not gross. Quite the opposite. Sending many platonic mental hugs and understanding. I know that feeling of feeling disconcerted and wigged out by things that trigger us. St. Julian of Norwhich would be good rich about now. If you don’t dig old or archaic English, try the plain language version, All Will Be Well. I have been reading that and it is really good for me. I read St. Julian all the time and I think they did a really good job not losing the poetry and meaning. <3 Your friend Shawn
Thanks so much, Shawn…this means so much to me. One of my favorite bands is The Waterboys and they asked the singer the origins of the name he said “People were thirsty, Jesus gave them water. I try to live that and sing about it”. I also try to honor that as a therapist as a way of being present. But sometimes I forget that I am thirsty.. so.thanks for the water, Shawn. I needed it badly. After reading your note, I teared up a bit in gratitude and took a long, soul energizing walk. I went my favorite rare comfort food place, Whataburger (yes, I’m a Texan). I absentmindedly placed my to go order and the young man asked if I would like a glass of water while I was waiting….Being out to lunch, I said, “no but thanks”…..and then “huh? No one ever asked me that at WHATABURGER. Yes, thank you very much. No moments are too small to be providential. Bless you, friend. And the Whataburger guy. And I felt the mental hug. Thanks for that, too. Peace.
That is so cool. 🙂 Jesus gave you water. Now you drink when you are wanting it. But it’s there for you. 🙂
Lindsey, a qulck note.. I couldn’t edit some of that properly because something about my computer stop letting me. But I think it makes sense by and large, and apologies for the misspellings and run on sentences.:) And it is long, I know….
Thanks Lindsey for reading and taking the time to respond to this. It means a lot for someone to take the time to do it and to hear and be willing to dialogue. And my dear Catholic clients will especially appreciate it.. I am not trying to be right, and I would never argue a right relationship between men and women that is based on mutual respect, honors uniqueness and seeks to understand and learn from each other. Mutual respect always and without compromise would not ever, ever objectify or exploit our God given gift of sexuality or who God created us to be. I am just curious, have you ever read any of the writings of Sue Monk Kidd? Maybe her feminist slant strikes you just the same, but I would be curious. God bless.
You’re welcome; I try to respond to every comment I get. I have not read any Sue Monk Kidd, but I will give her a look!
I haven’t either, but I know several female Catholic friends who are fairly traditional sing her praises and some of her work has turned towards feminist theology. I’m from such a different generation (ie I am old:) that I still am learning different perspectives. I like that.