The following is written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
I did a once over at my daughter’s outfit and then took a quick glance at the calendar to make sure that I hadn’t accidentally slept until December.
“Honey, why in the world are you dressed like that? It is going to be 90 degrees today.”
My daughter’s outfit du jour consisted of long black leggings, a black t-shirt and a black short sleeve hoodie.
“Why are you dressed like Johnny Cash on his way to spin class?”
She rolled her eyes at my outdated mom joke and said, “Well, I can’t wear any of the shorts that I have. So, I’m just going to wear this and sweat to death.” A girl after my cut-off-my-nose-to-spite-my-face heart.
Her shorts didn’t meet the “fingertip rule” (shorts need to be longer than her middle finger when her arms are straight down). My 10 year old was stressed out and engaged in a heat-stroke inducing silent protest because her clothes didn’t meet an arbitrary measurement of decency and decorum.
I once again told her that as long as her dad and I approved her clothes that I was not worried about her getting a dreaded school referral for showing an extra inch of thigh. And, while she said she appreciated my support and solidarity she reminded me that I was not the one who had to go to the nurse’s office and change into some random pink striped leggings. “I don’t know where those clothes have been, Mom.”
This is not to rag on my daughter’s school or the teachers who have to enforce it. I get it. I appreciate all that they do for too little appreciation and even less money, but I think that a vast majority of the teachers and administrators would rather spend their time educating and nurturing young minds than policing the amount of shoulders and thighs that are shown.
What I am full-fledged ragging on is the archaic message that this is sending to my daughter. A message that my sister-in-law summed up as being deeply rooted in both sexism and rape culture. And, although my daughter may not use those words, she did say that she didn’t understand why all the clothing rules seemed to only be directed at girls. She asked, “Do they even make boys’s shorts that short? ‘Cause I’ve never seen them.”
While I am certainly not the first one to run with this flag, I am just sick of dealing with it. And tired. Sick and tired of still dealing with this utter bullsh*t. Sick and tired of trying to teach my daughter that she should be proud of her body and all the amazing things that is capable of while having to measure the strap on her tank top because an extra inch of exposed 10 year old shoulder may be distracting enough that teachers have to put the brakes on their lesson plans to deal with it.
I’m sick and tired for our girls, but also for our boys. I’m tired that “boys will be boys” is still something that is said; the underlying shoulder shrug of that statement is that boys are uncontrollable and don’t possess the ability to rise above basic animal instincts…’cause that is also a big load of bullsh*t. As we continued to discuss this my daughter said, “Well, I wish that they could just come to your gym mom. A lot of the women work out in bootie shorts and sports bra…basically a bikini. And, all the men there know how to act.”
Praise be, kiddo, praise be, indeed.
Soshally Awkward
Sosha Lewis is a writer whose work has been featured in The Washington Post, Huffington Post, MUTHA Magazine and The Charlotte Observer. She writes about her sometimes wild, sometimes hilarious, sometimes heartbreaking past filled with free-lunches, a grimy sports bar, a six foot tall Albino woman who tried to save her teenage soul, felonious, drug addicted parents, an imaginary friend named Blueberry and growing up nestled in the coal-dusted mountains of West Virginia.
