Have you ever been taken aback by something someone said, leaving you speechless? I bring this up because today I stumbled upon an old black, long-sleeved, low-cut shirt that I used to wear while dealing cards. It reminded me of the last time I wore it, when my so-called friend, Jake, bluntly told me I “dressed inappropriately.” Let’s discuss why that comment infuriated me.
Perhaps I’m unusual, but I really couldn’t care less about what others wear. I hope I’m not alone in this sentiment because judging someone based on their clothing is absurd. When I worked in bar blackjack, my boss allowed us to dress however we liked (within reason). This kind of leniency isn’t typical everywhere, but my employer understood that a woman’s attire doesn’t affect her performance. And I say “woman” because how often do men face scrutiny for their clothing choices? I’ve never seen it.
Now, back to the shaming. “You dress inappropriately, and this is a kid’s show.” The first time Jake saw me “dressed like that,” he had hired me to play in a pit orchestra. He came by to drop off the music during my shift at the bar.
When he spotted me, he glanced at my shirt—a simple black tee with the top button undone for comfort—and made a face before approaching. I initially thought his expression stemmed from nerves. Surely, I couldn’t fathom someone being bothered by a shirt.
Looking back, I realize his look was one of disapproval. The same disdain returned the next time he visited, this time with his ill-tempered boyfriend, who was participating in a card tournament. But this visit came with an unwarranted opinion. We had become friends, but Jake decided to voice his ridiculous concerns. Ironically, I had taken my break to seek his approval on a dress I wanted to wear for the show, worrying about my tattoos being visible, while Jake was more focused on my “slutty” attire.
When I showed him a photo of the dress on my phone, he sipped his beer and said, “Yeah, the dress is fine. Thank God. We need to get you more conservative clothes. You dress inappropriately, and this is a kid’s show.”
Seriously? His words were so blunt, there was no mistaking them for humor. When he saw my shocked expression, he added, “I can say that. I’m gay.”
Why is slut-shaming still a thing? The whole point of women’s rights was to gain the freedom to express ourselves as we choose. Am I missing something? I can’t comprehend how a top from TJ Maxx could send someone into a frenzy. Yet, there are girls being sent to the office for “distracting clothing.” This has sparked movements and walkouts among students.
Young women are even facing dire consequences due to the harmful impact of such words. Clothing is just clothing—unkind opinions should remain unspoken. I never commented on Jake’s “stylish” haircut, which he thought concealed his receding hairline, or critiqued his appearance in any way. I choose my outfits just as he does. I was raised to mind my own business unless someone was in trouble.
Moreover, why did Jake feel the need to use the “I’m gay” excuse? This behavior is unacceptable. By that logic, I could have told him he ought to stop being a player, and I would’ve been justified since I’m bisexual. No, that’s not how life works. Good people don’t behave like that. Regardless of orientation, there’s no excuse for being rude.
Jake’s “concern” wore me down. I wore the dress on opening night, pretending not to notice how he scrutinized me when the pianist complimented my outfit. Throughout the show’s run, he kept watching me. We never discussed his earlier comments. At the time, I thought, “Wow, rude,” but overlooked it because he had redeeming qualities. However, constantly feeling like I had to look a certain way to please him wasn’t friendship. I realized this during his last visit.
When Jake handed me the music binder, he pointed at my work shirt—a simple company tee that was approved by the boss. “We’re going to be touring a lot of churches, and sweetheart, you’re just never appropriate. I worried about even giving you the job but I don’t know anyone else who can play the music.” The irony? Another dealer walked by wearing the exact same shirt!
This time, I remained silent. Jake continued to nag me throughout the tour, even after we discussed him refraining from trying to save my “slutty” soul. I gave him too many chances. Eventually, I distanced myself from him—ghosting him entirely. It might not be the most graceful exit, but negativity has a way of reaching a tipping point.
“I’m trying to help you,” he claimed, but that’s precisely the point. Let people be who they are—that’s basic respect. Women don’t need to be “fixed.” We know how we look, act, and sound, thank you very much. A woman can walk around in any outfit she chooses. Why is society so invested in controlling women’s choices?
If you can’t be yourself around someone, it’s time to move on, even if it means losing a friend. Jake still attempts to reach out, but I believe it’s for the best that we’re no longer friends. If we ever crossed paths again, I guarantee I’d wear my “inappropriate shirt” just to see his reaction.
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Summary:
The author reflects on her experience with a friend who criticized her clothing choices, particularly using the term “slut” to describe her attire. She emphasizes the absurdity of judging others based on their clothing and discusses the broader implications of slut-shaming. The piece concludes with a call for acceptance and respect for personal expression.