Legs are just legs, girls are just girls

“Having gained a new outlook, I want to tell girls who identify with the 15 year-old version of myself to be kind to themselves. Be patient, because people might not be inclined to hear you out right now, but that doesn’t mean you should stop speaking out.” — Beatriz Silva (Courtesy of Beatriz Silva)

21-year old student and activist Beatriz Silva writes about how an encounter with restrictive and misogynistic dress codes fueled her passion for gender equity research and policy work.

It was hot in Brazil, and I did not want to wear pants to school anymore — however, I would soon discover neither my comfort nor my education mattered more than the power my legs held to “distract” the men around me. At 15, I was past the age of princess costumes and butterfly patterns and had just begun to understand what it meant to be a young woman with a body. I understood that more people might look at and talk about my body, but I was still young enough to believe that all I had to do to make it stop was ask.

My high school had a strict dress code that barred everyone above the middle school years from wearing shorts or sleeveless tops, which is telling in some ways. First, because it was only ever enforced on girls, and second, because the grade restrictions means young girls are being sexualized as soon as they start going through puberty. I was inspired to challenge these rules after seeing online that students in Northeastern Brazil successfully protested and convinced their school to change its dress code, very similar to the one at my school — no shorts, even in the hottest temperatures. In their successful protest, the girls at that school wore shorts to class in a mass showing of outrage. So I decided to do the same — it did not work out. I ended up in the principal’s office with about ten other girls who had agreed to join me, which was the plan all along. Now, all we had to do was show our strength as a team and bargain. To my surprise, all of them but me had cleverly brought a pair of pants in case it went wrong, and I was left alone.

I felt little and exposed as two adult women and school administrators yelled at me, shrinking into myself and trying to stand my ground as I asked them, “Why? Why can’t we wear shorts? What’s wrong with wearing shorts?” After I cried, my counselor asked me back: “What about your poor male classmates and your male teachers? How are they going to pay attention in class?”

They offered me a pair of pants that didn’t fit me and told me I could either wear them or go home for the day, so I went home. My education did not matter that much to them that day.

“Objectification, gender-biased dress codes, and beauty standards (which disproportionately impact women of color) are additional barriers women face in their daily life and movement within society.”

It has been seven years since that day, but somehow the memory hurts more now. I am 21 years old now and attending college in Washington, D.C. It hurts that an adult woman told me that my male classmates were more entitled to feeling comfortable than I was. It hurts that she looked me in the eyes and told me that my middle-aged teachers found sex appeal in my teenage legs, and that it was my responsibility for not hiding. And above all, it hurts that no one else seemed to think this was completely outrageous.

Too often women and girls all around the world are told to hide, shrink, be invisible. These harmful messages imply that if someone harms them, they are to blame.  Many girls spend their lives being told that their looks are the only thing that matter about them, policed and punished whether they cover up or show more skin. Research reveals that the intense objectification that women and girls suffer can have serious mental and physical consequences — high levels of objectification can lead girls to reduce awareness of bodily states like hunger cues, feel demotivation and self-hatred, or disconnected to their sense of personhood entirely. This impacts girls disproportionately, according to a study that reveals that women are more likely than men to view their own bodies through an emotional lens. That is, while a man will most likely look at himself and see “tall,” a woman is most likely to look at herself and see “bad.”

Objectification, gender-biased dress codes, and beauty standards (which disproportionately impact women of color) are additional barriers women face in their daily life and movement within society. This belittling, in practice, almost always means men’s voices will be privileged. While this isn't always the case — thanks to how much women before us have fought to get us here — women will frequently be minorities in parliaments, peace negotiations, academic conferences, and anywhere else it matters.

Today, I work as a researcher and writer. I spend my days delving into how pervasive patriarchy is, how it creeps into each aspect of our lives. I study about how policies that hurt women and girls hurt everyone, and even policies that seem gender-neutral, if not made with women and girls in mind, can make issues worse. That is, policy that is not explicitly feminist — the kind of policy that I study — is as good as business as usual.

“Be patient, because people might not be inclined to hear you out right now, but that doesn’t mean you should stop speaking out.”

I have found incredible women to learn from: Dr. Shirley Graham, my former professor from the George Washington University who is fiercely and universally respected because she never backs down; my boss who always finds time to help other women climb up the ladder, and my friends who have shown me kindness at every step. They are showing me a way forward so that someday I might be in a position to write feminist policies I know will help advance gender equality around the world.

I wish I could go back and tell my high school principal, seven years later, that a teenage girl’s legs are just legs, and if the adult men that work for her do not agree, they should not work with children. I know fancy words and complicated statistics now, and I’ve matured enough to know she cannot scream herself out of taking responsibility anymore. However, this plan would be unwise, as was my initial one from all those years ago. Having gained a new outlook, I want to tell girls who identify with the 15 year-old version of myself to be kind to themselves. Be patient, because people might not be inclined to hear you out right now, but that doesn’t mean you should stop speaking out. Wonderful, like-minded, kind people are all around, and you will find them one day.

Ultimately, I cannot tell off my high school principal, but perhaps, I can one day make sure no other girl experiences that type of cruelty again. That day is still far, and many obstacles stand in our way — a climate crisis, regressive political movements around the world, violence, and the feeling of hopelessness on the hardest days. Even then, I ask that we all keep climbing anyway. I just know the view from the top will be splendid.