All skirts, All the time

I asked for skirts with pockets and the other day I saw them at Target. I had to buy the style in each color (good thing there were only three types). I asked for longer skirts so that I wouldn’t have to wear leggings in the boiling lab—today it was 88F. And on a whim I stopped in at Ross, which I haven’t been to in almost two years, and there they were, four perfectly fitting long skirts. Retail therapy hit a whole new definition.

In the States, we have a certain dress standard which applies to particular groups. And through that dress, a message can be conveyed about the person if they choose. Take for example, professional men usually wear suits and ties (Boulder being a very notable and unique exception). Jeans and tee-shirts are the norm for students. Slacks and polos for casual workers, etc. Here, we identify dress with profession.

Granted, clothes can certainly be an outlet for personal expression. And if outside the perceived norm, judgments will be cast. Take for example the people who sport baggy, low hanging black pants, black tee-shirt, and a long trench coat. This is outside societal norm. Onlookers might make assumptions that this person is not mature, is a troublemaker, possibly does drugs, had a difficult home life. And who knows what of that would be true.

Perhaps it’s human nature to instantly judge, from primitive times when we had to be able to assess a situation rapidly or it could cost lives. Or maybe it’s that we want others to see an aspect of our personality before meeting. This is potentially a chicken/egg debate and as a tangent from my intended topic, one which will be put on hold for another time.

Jerusalem has a different reason for their dress code, a religiously based one. I specifically point out this city in Israel because I did not heed tremendous attention to it elsewhere and this is where I spent the majority of my time. The clothes you wear indicate which branch of Judaism you follow, or which one you don’t. From the length of skirts and shirts, to the material of head coverings and shoes, outward appearance is taken extremely seriously by many. Even those who are unaware of these not-so-silent rules are judged by them. Ankle length skirt, full coverage shirt, closed toed shoes, without a doubt frum, practicing tzinuit (modesty) and maybe even shomer negia. (A woman) in pants, general tee-shirt, and sandals, is clearly secular. Don’t get me started on a someone in shorts and a tank-top.

What happens when a particular dress code just doesn’t fit a particular style of Judaism? And, since I am writing this from Colorado, how does this apply here, if at all?

Since returning September 2007, I have not put on a pair of pants in public. I put it that way because I just cannot give up lounging in my pajama bottoms on my weekends. What first came about from trying to understand, to put my initial reaction aside, has blossomed into so much more than I ever anticipated.

Women here do not wear skirts much. That is especially true in the winter. Chemists do not wear skirts. People who wear skirts do not pair them with steel-toed shoes. Reform Jews do not wear skirts (out of religious mentality). I have found that I have been asked to explain myself to so many different groups, to defend myself to a variety of people. I obliged more for myself than for them.

Many people wanted me to just say I did it for religious reasons, but I couldn’t. In the Torah, it says that men shouldn’t dress as women or vice versa. This day and age, men don’t wear skirts and they are typically seen as women’s clothing. If it were the opposite, then I’d be in pants. The religious aspect then is that I am showing that I am woman and not a man. I took this idea and went with it. In college I dressed very androgynously; jeans and a baggy tee-shirt. My first job too, in ill-fitting navy scrubs. Then something happened and I began to shop in the ladies department. I bought high heels and fitted tops and jewelry. And I began to embrace my femininity. Rather than looking at it as a negative aspect to me, I started to become aware of the benefits and accepting of the differences between the sexes. As usually happens when my perspective changes, I began to see people in a new way, including myself. No longer did I have to act like a man to fit in a man’s world (one of chemistry). I claimed my femininity and decided that I did not have to conform to bring value. I could bring so much more by being a woman and letting that happen as opposed to being a woman and trying to stifle that feature.

So when this new job came up and I had previously decided that I was all skirts all the time, I faced challenges.

Why do it: I am reminded that I am a woman to myself and to those I interact with; I am reminded of the tzinuit attitude—that is of modesty in the general sense not just the dress code; I am reminded of being Jewish; I am reminded to see people as individuals and not let clothes impact my view of them. Some perks I gained that I had no idea would come of this decision. I get to wear fun clothes because many skirts that I purchase are not bland but instead are vibrant. I find it hard to be blue in mood when I don on a bright pink skirt. I have to wear socks at work to cover my legs, so that part of my wardrobe has also expanded, and as I’ve said in a previous post, I like socks. Through the answering of questions, I have become more secure with me and more immune to strangers’ criticisms. Nostalgia of Jerusalem comes upon me when I walk down a windy street. A deeper connection with Judaism too has evolved, inexplicably.

For all the judgments, the teasing, the cold legs, the breezy days, the financial expense, the daily dressing struggles, the disapproving looks, the shoe dilemma, and other obstacles I have hurdled, I would not change. The gain has been much more rewarding than any of that could ever take away. And these rewards will far out last some initial minor inconveniences.