Skip to main content

Annual Spring Reminder



Boobs.

There, I said it.

I am getting to the point where I wish that we could all feel the same way about boobs as we do, say, elbows.

As my older daughter said to me once, “Come on! Everybody has boobs or knows someone who does.”

As the weather gets warmer and students want to wear more comfortable clothing, many will have run-ins with teachers and administrators. The majority of those students will be young women.

Now, not all of these moments of body shaming will be about breasts. Some will be about legs. Or shoulders. Or how much skin is exposed at the midsection.

Please, please, please can we stop for a minute and face the fact that what we deem as “too naughty for school” is purely a social construct which sexualizes young women’s bodies in a way that young men are never, ever targeted? The only thing that allows sexist dress codes to exist and persist is social agreement.

Young women’s legs, shoulders, necks, midriffs, backsides, and yes, even breasts are not innately sexual and “inappropriate.” 

Dress codes which operate with the assumption that young women’s bodies are somehow always on the verge of being inappropriate make schools unsafe places that are less conducive to learning and growth.

School clothing should be comfortable, safe for learning, and appropriate for the weather. Period.

Any dress code which targets one gender as consistently as it gives the other a free pass is, in essence, a violation of those students’ rights to get an education. And it teaches the other students that, when it comes to bodily autonomy, they get it. Girls don’t.

Boobs are boobs, folks. Get over it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Teacher Gifts

Today is the last day of school before the Winter Break. It’s a good time to remember the far-reaching nature of our public school system. You may not have children. You may have sent your children to independent schools. It matters not. You will be impacted one way or another. Yesterday I read a long thread on Facebook about several waves of illness in the schools right now. There’s influenza A and norovirus, I believe. And of course there’s COVID. Apparently in some individual schools the rate of illness is high enough for school admin to notify parents.  When I was little the acceptable holiday gift for a teacher was one of those lovely floral handkerchief squares. (I don’t know what it was for male teachers. They were rare in my elementary years.) These days the range of teacher gifts is wider and I have fond memories of Target gift cards which I have written about before. I think it’s safe to say that giving one’s teacher Influenza, norovirus, or COVID is not the ideal holiday...

They Can Wait

This is not a typical Saturday post. That’s because, in my community, it’s not a typical Saturday.  Oakland Mills High School, after years of deferred repair, needs massive renovation. It’s pretty simple: when you don’t fix a problem it gets bigger. The school system itself said the the OMHS school building was  "no longer conducive to learning" back in 2018.  2018 .  But Thursday the Boad of Education voted to push it out of the lineup of important projects which will be given the go-ahead to proceed soonest.  In my opinion it’s a terrible decision and sets a dangerous precedent. To explain, here’s the advocacy letter I sent in support of Oakland Mills High School. I was rather proud of it. I am writing to ask you to proceed with needed renovation at Oakland Mills High School in the most timely and comprehensive manner humanly possible. I have read the letter sent to you by the Oakland Mills Community Association and I am in complete agreement. You are extremel...

Columbia Chance Connection

  Last night, as my husband and I were about to sit down to dinner, our front door swung open and a cheery voice announced, “I’m ba—ack!”  We weren’t expecting anyone. Clearly the only people who’d walk right in to our house would be one of our offspring. I had my reading glasses on so I wasn’t seeing too clearly. It seemed too tall for our youngest, but we knew our eldest was at work. I took off my glasses to see a friendly but confused face scanning our living room. When her gaze landed on us we all had a sudden realization. We didn’t know eachother. “Oh I’m so sorry! I’m in the wrong house! My daughter just moved in and she needed hooks for the kitchen so I ran out to get them.” She waved the package. “All these houses look the same and I don’t know the neighborhood yet. I thought this was my daughter’s house.” We were all getting a bit giggly. “That’s okay. For a quick second we thought you were our daughter,” said my husband. I told her our names and said she should defin...