Let’s kick things off with a question that’s been debated endlessly: Are leggings considered pants or simply tights? This timeless dilemma has become a hallmark of our society.
Recently, I dropped my daughter off at her new middle school. As a sixth-grader, she’s at the bottom of the social ladder, navigating a maze of locker combinations, class schedules, and an abundance of rules. As her mother, I sometimes forget how daunting this phase can be. I recall my own middle school days as a time of defiance—my first party, my first crush, and discovering my love for music. It was a transformative period for me.
My daughter is a gentle soul: shy, witty, and creative. She prefers basketball shorts and T-shirts emblazoned with movie logos. Attention is not something she seeks, and she’s certainly not one to ruffle feathers. While this has occasionally concerned me, I’ve endeavored to be the body-positive parent I wished I had. So far, I think I’ve managed it well.
Just a mile down the road after dropping her off, my phone buzzes. It’s her, sobbing. “Mom, can you bring me different clothes? I need jeans.” I don’t even have time to ask what happened.
I rush back to the school, carrying jeans in a plastic bag along with a few pads tucked into a makeup bag, just in case. Something must have gone wrong; she sounds utterly humiliated. My heart aches for her. If it’s related to her period—what else could prompt such a request?—I want to ensure she knows that being a girl is not a curse.
In the office, I find her waiting and hand over the bag. As we step into the hallway, I pull her close, revealing the makeup bag with the pads inside. She hurries off, asking me to wait until she’s finished.
I take a seat in the front office, where the secretary says, “How embarrassing.”
“I’m not sure what happened. She’ll fill me in once she’s out of the bathroom,” I reply.
“Oh, it was her shorts. They were too short.”
This revelation catches me off guard. The secretary explains that an eighth-grade teacher had pulled her aside and sent her to the principal’s office. I sit there simmering with anger, but I manage to keep quiet. As a feminist and a body-positive advocate, I mentally rail against the absurdity of policing girls’ bodies under the guise of “dress codes” when the underlying message is, “Your body makes us uncomfortable.”
“I think it’s a bit absurd,” the secretary concedes. “If they have all these rules, why not just have the kids wear uniforms?”
I silently ponder that, understanding her frustration, especially since she has a daughter herself. Then she drops another bomb: leggings are prohibited too.
“That’s not in the handbook,” I assert, having read it thoroughly.
I don’t mention that I sometimes scan documents just to fuel my ire. I also refrain from stating that my daughter’s shorts fall well below her fingertips. Shorts deemed too short seem to act like a “slut indicator,” provoking unwarranted attention from boys.
“Leggings aren’t allowed unless a girl wears a dress or shorts over them. They’re considered tights,” she explains.
I contemplate asking for a withdrawal form. This school is proving to be overwhelming, and we’re only three days in. While I understand she’s merely the messenger, I can’t comprehend how leggings could be considered anything other than pants. I passionately argue that leggings serve as a body equalizer; regardless of size, all girls and women can wear them. They also act as a socioeconomic equalizer; black, stretchy cotton allows everyone to fit in.
She remains silent.
What can she say? Middle school often serves as a cruel introduction for girls to the realization that their bodies are not fully their own. They learn they are defined by how others—especially boys—perceive them. The onus of compliance rests on girls, while boys are shielded from the consequences of their actions.
This systemic issue isn’t new, yet it remains fresh for the girls experiencing it, including my daughter. It infuriates me that they are still taught to place their worth in the eyes of others rather than in their own self-perception. On that day, it didn’t matter that my daughter felt comfortable and proud in her denim shorts; an arbitrary rule had been violated, and the educators chose to prioritize enforcing that rule over teaching actual subjects.
For more discussions on parenting topics like this, check out this post on home insemination kits. If you’re interested in understanding the early stages of parenthood, refer to this guide from an authority on newborn care.
In summary, dress codes in schools often reinforce the idea that girls must conform to external expectations regarding their bodies, leading to feelings of shame and embarrassment. This systemic issue emphasizes the need for a shift in how we view young girls and their bodies in educational environments.