:format(webp)/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/59529153/GettyImages_904523356.0.jpg)
A gray, baggy, long-sleeved, and, as her mother put it, “unflattering” Calvin Klein shirt — that’s what 17-year-old Lizzy Martinez was wearing when she was pulled from class in her Bradenton, Florida, high school earlier this month and sent to the dean’s office for violating the dress code. The reason? Martinez wasn’t wearing a bra.
After Martinez explained that she had gone braless to avoid irritating a fresh sunburn, the dean asked her to put on an undershirt. Martinez obliged, and the dean asked her to “move around” to see whether her nipples were still visible, Martinez says. The dean decided they were.
She then sent Martinez to the nurse’s office, telling her to cover her nipples with Band-Aids in an “X” shape. Martinez wore the Band-Aids for 45 minutes before calling her mom, crying out of embarrassment, so she could go home early.
Martinez then tweeted about the incident: “I decided not to wear a bra today and got pulled out of class [because] one of my teachers claimed it was ‘a distraction to boys in my class,’” she wrote. After her tweet went viral, Martinez called for a national “bracott.” On April 16, female students across the country clipped their bras to their backpacks instead of wearing them, and male students wore Band-Aids in an “X” shape on their shirts.
Martinez has said she will ignore the dress code for the remainder of the school year. Though the school conceded that the situation could have been handled better, they warned that protesters would be disciplined, but none were.
Martinez’s is not the first unjust dress code enforcement to go viral. In 2016, Helena, Montana, high school student Kaitlyn Juvik was chastised by administrators for going braless, and she too organized protests (in that case, 300 of her female classmates came to school braless). And last October, Annie Concannon of Cincinnati, Ohio, was “dress-coded” for wearing a crop top. Concannon had paired the shirt with high-waisted jeans and wasn’t exposing her midriff.
It’s not a surprise that these stories have hit a nerve — stories of unfair dress code enforcement are nearly universal for students, especially girls. And the stories enrage us. I’m a senior at a high school in Salt Lake City, and during our sophomore year, my best friend was disciplined for wearing shorts that were “too short” — although the shorts were part of the school’s soccer uniform. As a result, she lost class “participation points,” which lowered her grade.
Meanwhile, the male granola rock climber who sat next to me in English class was routinely free to wear his shirt entirely unbuttoned, flapping in the wind, revealing his chest. This sexist enforcement of our dress code was common until, at the end of my sophomore year, students took matters into their own hands.
My school’s feminist club met tirelessly with the administration and district school board, pushing them to approve a new dress code free from gendered language. Though they found an ally in the principal, some teachers and school board members were resistant, insisting that the dress code was enforced equally upon boys and girls.
But the club showed, through a school-wide survey, that girls were more frequently impacted. They argued that interrupting a girl’s education because her clothing could distract a boy implied his education was more valuable than hers.
In practice, the dress code in my school is now all but nonexistent, except for requiring that underwear must be covered, as well as the midriff. Its absence has had no adverse effects on our learning. We are able to focus despite the occasional bare shoulder or pair of short-shorts, and our large public high school continues to be regarded as having some of the best academics in Utah.
Relaxing the dress code didn’t distract students. It improved our school experience.
The relaxed dress code has brought significant improvements to my school. As students, we are treated as adults as we determine what is appropriate when getting dressed in the morning. We don’t have to stress over arbitrary requirements, such as the width of a shirt strap or the length of a skirt.
We’re allowed creativity, which some students take advantage of through their artistic DIY clothes that might have violated previous dress code rules. And most importantly, we are able to go to school free of judgment, the most significant privilege stolen by dress codes.
The sexism of dress codes is not just about their wording or their enforcement but the culture they create. In the seventh grade, a friend of mine was dress-coded routinely for her short rompers and skirts. She was 13. She wasn’t trying to be sexual; she was a tween experimenting with her style.
But the school’s perception that she was being knowingly risqué hurt her — she began worrying that all her friends (and their moms) were judging her behind her back. Despite themselves, students absorb the false assumption of dress codes: Everything is sexual, and nothing is innocent.
It’s from this assumption that the most popular, and most infuriating, justification for dress codes arises. Administrators argue that if a high school girl’s skirt is too short or her shoulders are exposed, the boys won’t be able to focus. This concern is outdated and puritanical.
It is not the woman’s responsibility to ensure she doesn’t inadvertently arouse the men around her. High school boys should not be taught that every stirring curve in their path will be concealed for their convenience; that’s not how society functions. Billboards, commercials, and magazines featuring women showing skin will continue to exist and real women will march on, whether boys can focus or not.
It’s up to them to manage themselves. In my experience, most can. I have yet to hear a boy complain that he’s distracted by a set of bare shoulders.
Many schools realize the absurdity of asking girls to dress so as not to tempt boys, and instead claim to enforce their dress code for the sake of “professionalism,” arguing that they are preparing students for future careers where they will have to dress formally.
Some high schools actually hold to the principle of “professionalism,” favoring khakis over jeans or banning sandals and T-shirts with logos. But more often than not, high schools that claim their dress codes promote professional attire allow boys to wear mesh basketball shorts with wrinkled T-shirts while requiring girls to cover their shoulders. Sexist cultural ideas are simply being buried under the guise of appropriateness.
Dress codes are implicit sexism come to life. They aren’t created with the goal of oppressing women, but they are born from the lingering perception that women’s bodies are indecent. Even outfits like Lizzy Martinez’s baggy T-shirt or a pair of comfortable yoga pants are interpreted as risqué because women’s bodies have been so heavily sexualized. The codes themselves are ultimately more improper than what they are designed to regulate.
There is nothing inappropriate about a 17-year-old girl choosing not to wear a bra on her sunburned body. What’s indecent is an administrator asking her to Band-Aid her nipples.
Elizabeth Love is a senior at West High School in Salt Lake City, Utah. Her writing has been featured in the Huffington Post and the Salt Lake Tribune. Find her on Twitter @lizlove000.
First Person is Vox’s home for compelling, provocative narrative essays. Do you have a story to share? Read our submission guidelines, and pitch us at firstperson@vox.com.
