Instead she sat me down, and said that my skirt was too short and a bit inappropriate for work. I was a role model so needed to dress like one.
Not only was my skirt actually a required length (my fellow colleagues all agreed that my dress is not inappropriate for the environment I am in) but I have also been wearing it since September; more to the point, why was this clothing item such an issue in the first place?
Dress codes have caused outrage internationally: horror stories of women being fired from professional offices because they did not want to wear heels; colour charts doled out like presents, containing the only acceptable the shades of lipstick to wear to work. And although these are controversies and outright sexism (for why would you force someone to stand relatively unsupported on tiptoes for over eight hours a day, causing them discomfort, pain and even injury?) the debate over the skirt has always been subtle, rife. How short is too short? How tight is too tight?
Initially, I felt quite embarrassed that someone - or potentially more than one person - believed I was not presenting myself as a trustworthy, professional person to the staff and children I work with. How could I be viewed as professional if I did not dress for it?
Yet the more I thought about it, asked about it, the more infuriated I became. Five whole months had passed and not one child, adult, staff or student had raised concern of my dress code.
But, even if they did, why would it affect my status of a role model?
If I lay my hands flat against my legs (anyone who has worn a skirt to school before will know this: the failsafe check in any teacher's eye - unless you have long arms, in which case it would not end well) the fabric of the skirt hits my fingertips. Those that I wear to work are straight, so they cannot flip up in disaster (as in, a windy day), but are not so tight that they become a second skin. When I stand up, I pull it down from the natural rise that occurs when you sit. And, to put crudely, at no point have they ever gotten close to exhibiting two rounded imprints of my buttcheeks escaping from underneath.
I believe my professionalism should lie in my composure: a willingness and friendliness to help the children I am there to assist; punctuality and reliability; and my personalised, clean uniform. I do not feel that my stance as a role model should rest solely on whether my skirt crumples around my knees, or rests innocently on my thigh. There is a line between inappropriate and acceptable, I understand: common sense will address that skin that would not be peered at by the sun on a regular day should not make an appearance at work. And, some jobs do have specific regulations, regarding health and safety, as well as the brand they are trying to build. But, this is my small, ultimately insignificant fight for the right to wear skirts that are comfortable to work.
 |
| All skirts, bodies and people are great, no matter their size |
So, somewhat reluctantly, I have ordered new clothes and anxiously await the gaze of the colleague who began this inner rage that has not left me for days, when they judge if these clothes are acceptable, professional, and show myself as a role model. But I do secretly want to slide out of the car on Monday morning dressed in a nun’s outfit, just to make my point. Because skirts and bodies do not need to be over-sexualised, and I feel that sometimes people just hunt for something to be inappropriate for the very sake of it.
