On Modesty: Being Identifiable

When I was in high school, my camp friends and I used to play a game we called RKB. RKB was an acronym, standing for "Random Kippah Boy." A Random Kippah Boy was someone who looked like a regular guy, until you got up close and realized he was wearing a kippah. The first one to identify the guy as an RKB would get a point. Yes, we were super cool people. And still are. So there.

I mention this story because to me, it says a lot about an aspect of modesty people don't necessarily talk much about, but is actually very central-- the idea of modest dress as an identifying factor.

When I went on trips with camp as a kid, they would always tell us to behave, because we were not only representing ourselves and our camp, but also the whole Jewish people. We sometimes traveled to places that didn't have large Jewish communities, and there was a sense that the boys-- and it was mostly the boys, with their kippahs, and not the girls, in their short shorts-- could create impressions, positive or negative, that would remain after we were gone. While that level of pressure was probably not a fair or productive one to put on the shoulders on 11 and 12 year olds, it does reflect an important reality. When we dress in a distinctive way that links us to our communities, our actions sometimes get magnified to those who understand those cues, both inside the Jewish community and outside of it.

For men, in many ways, the question of being identified versus not being identified is an easy one. (I don't mean to say that deciding whether to wear a head covering all the time is simple, but rather, that there are clear external cues that send one message or another.) Even for men who cover their heads all of the time, they can choose to wear a kippah if they want to be seen as Jewish, or a hat of some kind if they want to blend in. (Although probably not a shtreimel. Those are pretty identifiable.) In fact, I've noticed men of my father's generation almost never go outside with only a kippah on, instead preferring to wear some sort of baseball hat or fedora over their kippah when in the street. In my generation, there has been a shift, and younger men will often wear only a kippah, even at work. However, this is a choice, as is the decision, for men who wear tzitzit, about whether they wear them with the fringes handing out, or tucked in under their clothes.

For many women, however, the identity question is more complicated. (I would like to make two disclaimers here. First, there are women who wear kippot all of the time, and even if they are a distinct minority, especially in my community, I don't want to ignore that population. Second, I am not writing here about the Charedi community, which has a very particular dress code for both men and women, but instead reflecting on my own, modern subset of the observant Jewish community.) Especially when fashion trends tend towards more modest looks, like now with the maxi skirt craze, or the obsession with sleeves and modest hats that followed Kate Middleton's wedding, it is easy to follow a modest dress code and still "pass" in secular society. For those who want to be modest and also blend in, this really seems to be the best of both worlds. However, not everyone wants to minimize or blend away their Jewish identity. The question, then, is what happens if you want to be identified?

As I mentioned in my first On Modesty post, I choose to wear pants, which is a decision that will likely get its own blog post in the future. However, I mostly wear skirts, as you, dear loyal readers, might have noticed. There are a few reasons for this. I find it easier to find skirts that fit well, they are often more comfortable, and it's easier to make a skirt look work-appropriate than most pairs of pants. There is also, for me, though, the external identification factor. I not only like the idea of being identified as Jewish, it's something that I actively seek out on some days. Granted, I am more likely to be identified by another observant Jew than by a random person on the street, but there's something I find nice about that element of solidarity. Even without making full eye contact, even if we have never met and never will, even if our beliefs and values are different from each other, there is something nice about remembering that the wider Jewish community is all around me.

Surprisingly or not, this is something I find myself thinking about more when I'm wearing pants than when I'm wearing a skirt. This morning, I was walking up Broadway (in pants) when I saw an RKB (or perhaps, an RKM.) I realized that, while I could identify him, it was unlikely he would be able to do the same for me. There was a little pang of regret that I felt in that moment. Not enough to make me stop wearing pants, but a small desire to somehow make myself known.

I have spoken with a number of female friends about this challenge and interestingly, a number of them have had the same wish as me, to be able to be identifiable as a member of the Jewish community. This works different ways for different people. Some will wear a Jewish star necklace all the time. Others will only wear skirts, even though they don't think pants are problematic from a Jewish legal perspective. Still others choose to wear hair or head coverings when they get married, less as a symbol of their marriage than as a symbol of their communal affiliation.

I'm certain that there is no one right answer to this question, and also that there is something potentially exclusionary about creating this insider world where people can create a group for themselves without saying a word. I also know that there will likely be times in my life when I feel glad that I can blend easily into the non-Jewish world without anything giving me away (other than, perhaps, my curly hair and glasses.) However, on mornings like this one, when I feel that tiny pang, I sometimes wish that there was a way that I could be my own version of an RKB.

I'd love to hear people's thoughts on these issues, if you have any. Does the community you live in have norms of dress or modesty that make you identifiable? Do you seek out that identification, or try to minimize it?

P.S. Come back tomorrow for a Stitch Fix review!

On Modesty: Intro to Jewish Modesty and My Code of Modesty

One of the things I'm hoping to do on this blog, other than post funny and awkward pictures of my outfits and have you read my random musings, is explore the ideas and attitudes that inform what it means to live a modest life. Over time, I'll write about things like modesty and body image, what it means to embody modesty beyond appearance, and hopefully also other people's reflections on what modesty means to them. I'd also love to hear from you about what you would like me to write about, so if you have questions, leave them in the comments, or email me here!

I thought I would start out this series with a little bit of background on where Jewish conceptions of modesty come from, and by defining my own personal standards of modesty, which might not be what you expect.

Warning: what follows is a dramatic oversimplification! Consider this modesty 101.

The traditional Jewish conceptions that define a woman's dress are based on two legal issues. The first, which comes from the Torah, is the prohibition against a woman wearing the clothing of a man, or a man wearing the clothing of a woman. (See Deuteronomy 22:5.) This is one of the sources that traditionally prohibits women from wearing pants. (More on that later.) The second legal issue is that of erva, or nakedness/ sexual enticement. In the Talmud, a woman's legs, voice and hair are all cited as potential sources of erva. (Brachot 24a.) Obviously, there are many more sources in the classical literature relating to these issues, but in the name of brevity, I will restrain my academic inclinations and leave the source analysis there for now.

So how does this manifest practically? A few ways:

• Because of the prohibition of a woman wearing a man's clothing, and because a woman's legs are called nakedness, traditionally observant Jewish women have only worn skirts. As secular society changed and pants became an acceptable option for women, certain communities became more lenient on the pants-wearing issue. However, issues of tightness and exposure potentially remain. There is a huge amount of Jewish legal literature about women and pants; if you want to know more, drop me a line. Suffice it to say that in right wing Orthodox communities, most women still wear skirts exclusively or almost exclusively, but in the Modern Orthodox and Conservative worlds, pants-wearing is much more common.

• Because modesty and humility are general Jewish values, as is seen throughout the Bible, it is generally seen as ideal for both men and women to cover up. This also comes from the idea that people are created in the image of God, and therefore should treat their bodies with care and self-respect. How this manifests is different in different communities. In some communities, both men and women never go out with their legs, arms, or even collarbones uncovered. In others, men and women might wear short sleeves, but not tank tops. And of course, there are even those in the Orthodox community who feel that sleeveless and shorts are fine. So interpretation of what it means to be modest or covered will vary depending on a community's orientation.

• Going back to the piece in the Talmud, which suggests that a woman's hair is nakedness, some women have the practice of covering their hair after they get married. There is also a source in the book of Numbers which suggests that even in the time of the Bible, women had the custom of covering hair when they were married, or after going through puberty (which were essentially at the same time in those days.) Once again (are you noticing a trend here?), there are a number of different ways that people choose to cover their hair. Some women only wear a head covering in synagogue, or during religious services. Others will cover only part of their hair, but all of the time. Some cover all of their hair all of the time, either with scarves and hats, or with sheitls, or wigs. There are also women who wear hair or head coverings before they get married, but that is usually coming from the practice of wearing a kippah, and not from a modesty perspective.

So there you have a dramatic oversimplification of Jewish customs surrounding modesty! Here's a little bit about my own personal code.

Suffice it to say, my journey to where I am today in terms of what modesty means to me has been long, and it continues to evolve. There are things that I used to wear that I will not wear anymore, and also things that I now feel comfortable wearing that I might not have a few years ago. As part of this series, I'll write a post in the future about that journey and how it unfolded. For now, however, I'll give you a little bit of an overview of my current practices, and what informs them.

First of all, something you haven't seen yet on the blog but will eventually is that I wear pants. I'm sure that will be surprising to some people, who might then question whether this is really a modest fashion blog. That's fine with me; if there's one thing that I've learned, it's that modesty means different things to different people. Interestingly, through all of my modesty journey, I have never stopped wearing pants. I actually had the opportunity to spend a few months learning these laws a number of years ago, and what I realized (among other things) was that the prohibition against a woman wearing a man's clothing can no longer be applied today, when it would be difficult to get women's pants and men's pants mixed up. I try not to wear anything too tight, especially between the legs, which has been a more difficult task as the skinny jeans phenomenon has taken over the world. Also, when I wear pants, especially more fitted ones, I will usually wear a looser top for balance, and to ensure that my code of modesty is being maintained. I do not feel that pants are inherently more provocative than skirts; in fact, I can think of many instances where skirts have been the less modest option.

Second, I wear sleeves to my elbow, although I don't need my elbows to be covered. This makes me slightly unusual in the pants-wearing crowd, although I know others like me. I came to this sort of by equating my legs and my arms, if that makes sense. Just as I cover the top half of my legs, so too I cover the top half of my arms. The one exception to this is gym-style t-shirts, which are usually a bit shorter in the sleeve, but still cover most of the upper arm and are fairly loose, so I'll wear them when I'm running/ working out/ hiking, etc. 

Third, I don't wear shorts at all, even long ones (other than basketball shorts at the beach), and all of my skirts and dresses have to fall at least to the top of my knee cap. This is partly about personal comfort, but also about the notion that part of what it means to serve God means keeping part of myself private. I happen to be particularly punctilious about this particular issue, which has sometimes made skirt buying difficult for me. (See: the adorable dress from the last Stitch Fix.) Right now, midi skirts seem to be having a moment, but I have certainly had to get creative sometimes. A post about that will come in the how-to series some time in the next month or so.

Finally, the hair covering question. I am not married, so it's not a particularly relevant issue in my life at the moment. It's something I've given some thought to, and I think I know which way I'll incline when the day comes, but I also know I might feel differently when the reality of what it would mean to wear, or not wear, a head covering every day for the rest of my life comes to the forefront. So I'll hold off on this one for now, and if the blog is still chugging along if/ when I get engaged, I am sure I will have a lot to say on the topic.

I think I have officially set the record for my longest post yet, so I'll stop here for now. Please leave questions, or your own thoughts on modest dress, in the comments! I look forward or hearing from you!