Mindsets, not miniskirts

By Herman M. Lagon

Some debates fade away with time. Others keep coming back, like a stain that refuses to leave a white shirt. The debate about how women dress belongs to the latter. Every few years it returns—after a celebrity remark, a viral post, or a lecture that sounds more like a sermon. Recently it resurfaced again with the claim that women should simply dress more modestly so men would not feel lust. It sounds simple. But simplicity can hide a deeper issue. The real question is not about skirts or necklines. It is about responsibility—who holds it and who quietly shifts it.

In daily life, clothing quickly becomes public commentary. A woman walking along Diversion Road in Iloilo wearing shorts may draw approving looks from some and quiet disapproval from others. Often the reminder arrives in the language of concern: “Maghinay-hinay lang sa suot mo.” The reasoning seems neat—dress modestly, avoid attention, avoid harassment. Yet reality rarely follows that script. The Philippine Commission on Women stresses that clothing does not cause sexual violence. Violence comes from perpetrators (PCW, 2020).

Research backs this up. Survivors have reported wearing everything from school uniforms to pajamas to hijabs when assaults occurred. Exhibits like ‘What Were You Wearing?’ display the clothes victims wore, and most items are painfully ordinary—sweaters, jeans, children’s shirts. The message is clear: clothing cannot predict violence. Yet the belief continues, largely because it feels convenient.

That convenience often shifts responsibility in subtle ways. When a woman reports harassment and the first question asked is “What were you wearing?” the implication becomes clear. Something about her choices is quietly blamed. Scholars describe this pattern as victim-blaming—a habit that protects social comfort rather than confronting difficult truths (Grubb & Turner, 2012). It is easier to criticize a skirt than to confront deeper issues such as entitlement, misogyny, or lack of accountability.

To be fair, the modesty argument does not always come from hostility. Many people who repeat it genuinely believe they are offering protection. Parents worry about their daughters. Religious communities and schools speak about humility and dignity. Cultural traditions value restraint. These motivations deserve acknowledgment. Modesty, after all, holds meaning for many communities. The tension begins when modesty shifts from a personal value into a rule imposed unevenly on women.

History reminds us that definitions of modesty change constantly. In early twentieth-century, sleeveless blouses scandalized conservative elders. Today they appear in office settings without much fuss. In other societies, ankles once required covering; in tropical countries like ours, practicality eventually won. Climate alone complicates the debate. Advising people in a humid archipelago to dress like residents of northern Europe has never been realistic. Fashion evolves with culture, geography, and time.

What people wear often reflects who they are. Fashion can communicate personality in the same way music or hairstyle does. A student wearing thrifted ukay-ukay jeans may simply be exploring style. A professional in a blazer projects authority. A young athlete in running shorts is likely choosing comfort. When observers assume every outfit invites male attention, the conclusion often reveals more about the observer’s mindset.

The deeper concern is respect. Respect is a habit learned through discipline. It means recognizing another person’s dignity instead of reducing them to an impulse. Psychologists studying self-control remind us that actions come from personal decisions, not external triggers (Baumeister & Tierney, 2011). When society suggests men cannot manage themselves, it lowers expectations for men and shifts responsibility onto women.

Ultimately, debates about clothing reveal deeper questions about values. Fashion will always change. Human dignity should not. A society grounded in respect focuses less on sleeves and skirts and more on personal accountability.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a ‘student of and for life’ who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world that is grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views herewith do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.