It was a scalding hot day, the kind where you look on the horizon and can see heat waves. I was in 8th grade at the time. I remember pulling myself out of bed and being immediately exhausted from the simple movement. I was born in the Southern Californian Desert, thus, one would assume I would have been well adapted to searing heat. This, however, is not the case. As I walked to my dresser and picked out my outfit for the day, I needed anything that would save me from the heat. I decided upon a tank top and jean shorts. Nothing about the outfit was egregiously provocative. I have what one would call a protective Mother; she would never let me out of the house if I dressed in that manner. 

The drive to school was short, I tried to absorb as much air conditioning in the car as possible. I dragged myself out of the car, practically having to peel my legs from the gray leather seats. As I grabbed my backpack, I looked up at the cloudless sky and felt the sun beaming down on my skin. If I had stayed there even a moment longer, I would have gotten a burn. 

I briskly walked into school, and to my surprise, the atmosphere was slightly cooler. All my classes, however, were on the infamous second floor. Due to its increased elevation, the second floor was known for its scalding heat. The trek up the staircase was grueling. With each step, I traveled deeper into the oven. I had Algebra I first period, a class that I despised due to my inability to comprehend numbers. This issue was only magnified by the scalding heat. We had a substitute teacher that day, which was nothing out of the ordinary. I worked my way through the work assigned, often wiping my brow with my forearm. After a while, I felt as if my eyes were burning into the back of my head. Instinctively, I turned around. 

On cue, the bell rang, right as my eyes met the subs’. This was followed by the sounds of students clambering to grab their backpacks and move to the next class. It was as if I was a deer in headlights. I soon found myself alone in the room with the substitute, unable to move under his glaring watch. It felt like an eternity. He did not move, and I eventually raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat, and from the teacher’s desk, he informed me that my outfit was provocative. According to him, it was distracting my male classmates and breaking the dress code. A dress code that I had never been informed of until that moment. I found myself apologizing, it felt instinctive. It was my fault. 

I am not alone in these experiences. Young students across the country are constantly facing sexist stigma and punishment for how they dress. These policies teach adolescents to conform to a specifically gendered standard based on patriarchal expectations. They must change their appearance for those around them. In hindsight, I did not recall a single guy gawking at me. If one did, I would have found it quite surprising. 13-year-old boys hardly know that girls exist. What I found more troubling is that this male substitute teacher, well into his fifties, looked at the shoulders of a preteen girl in that manner. 

These policies are detrimental to the self-esteem of young girls. Educational institutions villainize the natural human body while teaching young men that it is appropriate to sexualize women’s bodies, thus perpetuating patriarchal values. I felt as if I had to apologize for my body. For the next few years following that experience, I always covered my shoulders at school. I did not want to provoke my male cohorts, let alone another teacher. I felt utterly alone and embarrassed. I never told a soul about these instances until recently when I finally came to my senses and realized that I should not compensate for these patriarchal values. Moreover, I reminded myself that it was a scalding hot day, and I was dressing appropriately for the weather. It is in no way just to instill in the children of the next generation these blatantly sexist ideals. Adolescents should never feel as if they must apologize for or change their bodies in any way, and young boys should not be taught that the sexualization of women is not only just but practically encouraged. To truly foster an environment of inclusivity, educational institutions must dismiss these outdated sexually targeted policies. If schools continue to encourage these patriarchal policies, sexism will only continue to flourish for generations to come.