Last week I went to a Model United Nations conference. A place where we practice diplomacy, defend human rights, and debate how to build a fairer world.
And the instructions for what to wear? Shirts with sleeves at least five fingers below the shoulder. The reason: so we wouldn’t distract men.
Let that sink in. We were there to negotiate resolutions on equality, and the first rule we were handed was about how much of our shoulders other people could see.
The rules are written for someone else’s eyes
I’m not the only one who has heard this. No skirts above the knee. No bare shoulders. No visible bra straps. Sometimes the reason is “professionalism,” sometimes “respect,” sometimes “tradition.” But look at who the rules protect.
Most dress codes aimed at girls and women don’t say “dress comfortably” or “dress for the weather.” They say “don’t distract.” Distract whom? Almost always men and boys.
The message underneath: if you show your shoulders, you are asking for attention. If someone reacts, you provoked it.
That is not a dress code. That is a way of managing men’s behavior by controlling women’s bodies.
Who carries the responsibility?
When a girl is told to cover up so she doesn’t distract, she learns three things:
- Her body is a problem to be managed.
- Other people’s reactions are her responsibility.
- Her participation matters less than someone else’s comfort.
Meanwhile, boys learn the opposite: that they can’t be expected to control themselves, and that if they stare, comment, or harass, someone else caused it.
This is the same logic behind “what was she wearing?”, the question asked after harassment and assault. It’s not a coincidence. A dress code built on “don’t incite men” is the everyday, institutional version of victim-blaming.
“But it’s just about respect”
Respect is a fair thing to ask for. But notice how it works in practice:
- The rules are aimed at women far more than at men.
- The “problem” is always the visible body part, never the person looking.
- The consequence lands on the one wearing the clothes, never the one who commented on them.
If the goal were mutual respect, the rule would be: treat everyone with respect. Instead, it asks half the room to shrink.
What it costs us
- Shame. We start to see our own bodies as inappropriate.
- Self-policing. We check our outfits before leaving home, asking “what will they think?” instead of “do I like this?”
- Normalized harassment. If “men can’t help it” is the premise, harassment becomes background noise.
- Contradiction. Spaces that claim to promote equality teach inequality in their first rule.
What we propose
We are not saying there should be no standards. We are saying the reasoning matters. A fair dress code should:
- Apply equally to all genders and be enforced equally.
- Focus on practical needs like safety, weather, and context, never on “distraction.”
- Never place responsibility for someone’s behavior on the person being looked at.
- Be written with the people it affects, not just for them.
The conversation we need to have
Next time you hear “cover up so you don’t distract them,” ask: who is this rule really protecting?
If the answer is “the people who might stare,” then the problem was never the sleeve. It was never the shoulder, the skirt, or the bra strap.
We don’t need longer sleeves. We need people who take responsibility for where they look.
Dress codes don’t protect girls. They teach boys that they aren’t responsible for their own actions, and they teach girls that their education is secondary to a male peer’s attention span
Carey Purcell
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