I’m a feminist

I cringe a little when I admit that. I’ve always (incorrectly) assumed that feminist were men haters. But I certainly don’t hate men. I love a lot of them. My husband, two sons, father, and three brothers to name a few.

But when I marched to the front of my church to give the speaker what for after his comments on modesty, I realized I couldn’t deny it anymore. It wasn’t just the woman who ruined her family because she wore too short of shorts and tanktops, and it wasn’t just that boys shouldn’t give the time of day to women who weren’t dressed “appropriately” (nevermind treating everyone with decency and respect, no matter how they’re dressed), it was deeper than that. A belief that women are responsible for what’s wrong inside someone else.

The embers inside of me fanned into flames.

I’m not proud of telling him he needed to do some research and look up such things as, “Modesty Shaming”. I’m actually a little embarrassed (not the best venue, right in front of the pulpit), but someone has to say something.

So this is me saying something.

Women: based your modesty from a place of deep respect for your body. The way we dress sends a message. Let that message be about telling your story, not trying to sell someone elses.


Let’s start with a scenario.

You’re on a beach.
A woman with curves in all the right places jogs toward you, a bright smile on her face, and a string bikini on her body.
She ranks a ten. An eleven, even.
And she’s your daughter.

Now tell me you can’t control your thoughts. That it’s her responsibility to make sure you don’t take advantage of her.

I’ll end with this: Treat people to the highest of their potential, and they just might surprise you by surpassing it.

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