Lenten Project: Day Thirty-two

Since I grew up Fundy and went to FundyU, I didn't really learn to dress myself properly till I left college.  I remember going into Goodwill with my family during short trips to the States, and just looking through all the clothes for something I liked which would also fit in the strict modesty guidelines of my parents.  I never looked for the correct size or for matching pieces.  I used a lot of safety pins, and many of my clothes were either homemade or altered in some way to make them fit and also be more modest.  I was wearing a lot of size mediums when I should have been wearing extra smalls.  Or I'd pair a regular tshirt with my lovely god-honouring culottes.

I had an awesome dark green denim jumper dress with a floral cotton skirt, but it was an inch too short, so my mom added a long ribbon of lace to the bottom of the hem.  Viola!  It was modest. It was also really odd looking.  I thought I was so cool wearing it, though, because the colours were unusual and, I imagined, rather grunge.  Incidentally, a missionary kid from a neighboring island wrote me a letter after a short visit when I'd worn the jumper and told me she could no longer be my friend because of my wearing that worldly outfit. She said it indicated a heart problem.  We tried to become friends again in college, but it never worked out.  I was just way too worldly for her.

When I came to the States for good, I was so confused by styles and what was in and what was out.  I still didn't understand that clothing was made in sizes and I probably had a size I ought to be looking for, instead of just a style.  I never got both right at the same time.  So when I bought my first pair of shorts (a huge milestone for me, who grew up believing girls who wore shorts were slutty), I was thrilled that the waistline fit me perfectly, and didn't notice that they were old man shorts.  I thought I was being so daring and cutting edge, fashion-wise, because my knobby knees were showing.

The first time I ever wore a real bathing suit, I was in my teens, and it was only allowed by my parents because I was helping at our home church's summer camp, and during the counselor/helper swim time I needed something other than a dress to swim in (for safety reasons, the rulebook said).  So they got me a hand-me-down one piece bathing suit that was way to big for me.  I would have been more modest if I'd just gone swimming naked, because that swim suit gaped in the crotch like you wouldn't believe, and the straps didn't stay up.  But I didn't know that bathing suits were supposed to be skintight, so I had no idea that anything was wrong--I was so excited just to be wearing "normal" swim clothes like all the other girls.  One camper asked me why on earth I was wearing a bathing suit that clearly didn't fit and was ugly besides, and it dawned on me that I wasn't like all the other girls after all.  I was incredibly mortified.

Once I got to college I realised that I could really have a little fun with this old fashioned dress requirement (even though I still had no clue how to match clothing--I thought brown shoes went with black dresses just fine, and a blue belt made the outfit perfect!).  I found this old fur coat at a goodwill and would wear it during every fire drill.  Bob Jones University at the time conducted the fire drills of the dorms at night after lights out, so all of us girls were in nightgowns and pjs.  The Public Safety officers (mostly male students) would leer at us as we filed out of the dorms, and it was pretty humiliating.  So covering up with a huge coat had a dual purpose of keeping me warm and fending off the boys' stares.

Have you ever worn something that you thought was cool, only later found out was about twenty years out of date, or horribly ill-fitting?

Lenten Project: Day Twenty-six

At the end of Christmas break during the 2002/2003 school year at Bob Jones University, my sister, a freshman, and I, a sophomore, flew back to the States from our holiday with our family in Singapore.  On the layover in Chicago, the airline had accidentally put our luggage on a plane to Africa, so we were luggage-less til they could get our bag back to us (the eventually did).

In the meantime, we wore the clothes on our backs and went to eat lunch in the Dining Common across campus.  We were wearing Indian punjabis, which wasn't unusual for us, given that we'd just been home in Singapore, where we wore this particular kind of outfit all the time.

When we got back to our room (we were roommates that year, and it was great), we had a call slip summoning us to the Dean of Women's office.  She said we'd been spotted around campus wearing indecent, uncheckable clothing.  A faculty/staff woman had turned us in (without saying a word to us, I might add) and told her we were wearing pants under our dresses, which was NOT allowed.

I explained to her that we'd lost our luggage.  School wasn't even in session yet!  Beyond that, we wore these all the time, even on campus.  I'd even gotten one checked especially last year, when I wore one to artist series with my then-boyfriend.  (Getting clothing checked is something still required at BJU--a girl must model her desired outfit in front of the dorm sup, who will have her turn slowly, grab the sides to show that her outfit has "three inches of ease," put three fingers to the collarbone to show the neckline is not too low of a cut, and the hemline will be checked for length, which must be at least to the bottom of the knee.)  It had been deemed an appropriate and attractive outfit then, so why the sudden change now?

The Dean of Women said the staff woman had been offended, so the rule had to be changed.  No longer were we allowed to wear our ethnic country's clothing.  Only Western garb.  We would be allowed to wear Indian saris to artist series only on a case by case basis, getting them checked each time.  But no more pants under the dress, even if the pants were more voluptuous than culottes.  We didn't want to cause anyone to stumble.

And that's why my sister and I suddenly stopped wearing our home country's outfits, except when we wore saris. But even when we wore saris, we had to put tee shirts underneath to make them modest.

BJU is really funny about modesty. It's modesty or death in some situations.  When it was sleeting the day of Gold Rush Daze my senior year, all students were required to attend the festivities (they even locked us out of our dorms), and all women were to wear modest appropriate clothing.  No pants, not even under your skirts.  Well, it was freezing.  And sleeting, for pete's sake!  So, being the good little Bojo that I was, I just wore a LOT of clothes.  All modest clothes, yes, but as many as I could get on.

Tights, two skirts, knee high socks, tee shirt under a long sleeved shirt, two hoodies,
a thick scarf, and flannel hat=MODEST IS HOTTEST

I guess the moral of the story is, if someone might be offended by what you're wearing, it's evil and immodest.  But if you look like a hobo, then you're doin' fine.

Lenten Project: Day Seven

I was a rebellious kid, so defined because I secretly listened to country music (I thought it was heavy metal), enjoyed CCM, and wore jeans a couple times before my parents decreed them not to be sinful after all. Oh, and I went to a couple movies in the cinema.

I dressed the part. Sneakers instead of ladylike sandals.  Vests over longsleeved shirts or tshirts instead of blouses or dresses. I wore as short of a skirt hem as I could get away with (so, about to the middle of my knee).  I wore "cool shades."  I tried to be grunge.

This was not an easy outfit to wear in 95 degree Caribbean weather!

If these rebellious behaviours sound unrebellious to you, you've got to understand, to a patriarchal, Fundamentalist father, image is everything.  Especially as all eyes were supposedly on us since we were missionaries, the highest of God's spiritual callings.

We kids dressed modestly because that was the way to "bring glory to God."  And modesty was defined very strictly.  We read books about it, heard sermons about it, lectured one another about it, all for the glory of God.

Thank God this book has gone out of print.

Once, as an 11 year old, I asked my mother while were shopping at the flea market in Miami, "Mom, can I have pants?"

She looked at me with disapproval. "We don't wear pants."  Not five steps away stood her own mother, who had driven and accompanied us.  She was wearing pants.

So the message was clear: we were better, more holy than anyone else, even our own grandmother, because we adhered to stricter standards of modesty.

When our clothes didn't come from the missionary barrel or Goodwill, we handmade them.  Long dresses and culottes were the fashions we displayed.  We usually ended up looking like homeless persons, but the goal was to be identified as godly.

Bob Jones University visit, 1998

While on a solo visit to my grandparents when I was a teen, I bought myself a pair of ill-fitting jeans.  (I also bought a Barbie, since I'd never been allowed to own one.  I didn't realise that normal teenage girls don't buy or actually play with Barbies.)  Upon going home to Grenada after my visit, I hid my contraband carefully in my luggage.  It was still found and tsked over during the public unpacking of the bags.  I wasn't made to throw away my things, but I wasn't allowed to wear those jeans either, or openly play with the Barbies.  Eventually, the shame and guilt got to be too heavy, and I repented, packed up my rebellious items, and burned them in the metal trash bin in the backyard.  My reformed behaviour didn't last long, and I fell right back into my sinful, immodest, rebellious ways.

I'm the one in black culottes, with brown shoes, cool shades, and messy hair.

Dad's modesty rules had biblical basis, of course, just like every other law he preached and taught to us.  We girls were not allowed to wear "men's clothing," because the Bible said that was an abomination.  And the whole skirt-must-cover-knees thing was based on a verse about Old Testament priests' garments.  Our modest outfits reflected our respect and honour of our father, our ruler and head of the family.  Of course, if we ever wore any immodest garment, like a sleeveless blouse, we would be causing the men around us to sin because they would have no other choice but to lust.  (I remember one reason given for the old no-pants-on-women rule at Bob Jones University was that it protected us girls from getting raped while off campus.  Think about that one for a moment.  Wouldn't it be easier to rape a girl wearing a skirt??)  Therefore, the only way to protect ourselves was to dress like hobos.

In 1998, we attended the Quinceanera party of a girl from our home church.  We didn't own anything fancy enough to wear (homeschoolers don't get prom or school dances), so our mom took us to Goodwill, where we three eldest girls picked out what we imagined were fashionable gowns.  Only when we got to the party and saw what everybody else was wearing (normal late 90's party attire) did we realise how uneducated and naive we were.  It was not a fun realisation.

We honestly had no idea we were at least 10 years out of date because our mother said we looked amazing!

But when we moved from Grenada to Singapore, we suddenly were allowed to wear pants.  At first, it was just the billowy pants in the punjabis or salwar suits we started wearing (and I still wear them to this day, because they're so comfortable and pretty).

Then we gradually started wearing pants, and then jeans.  Our parents said we were allowed now because of Chinese culture (pants are considered very modest, and whores are known to prefer dresses, according to our dad).  But those Bible verses the previous family modesty rules had been based on didn't just cease to exist.  It never made complete sense to me why we rejected Scripture in order to conform to culture.  Southeastern Asian culture is okay, but American culture is not?  The double standard (and change in standards without apology or explanation) left me questioning the validity of Fundamentalist teaching once again.