Unraveling the Thread: How

Clothing Has Been Used to

Subjugate Women—and Why

That’s Changing

By Chrissy

Why do women have to cover their chests

while men can go shirtless in public? It’s a

question that may seem simple—but carries

profound implications about gender, power,

and control. What we wear has never been

neutral. Clothing is one of the most

immediate ways society tells us who we

are, or who we’re allowed to be. And when

it comes to gender, clothing has been

weaponized—especially against women

—for centuries.

But this isn’t just about history. It’s about

lived experience. It’s personal.

My Own Journey Through the

Fabric of Gender

As someone still exploring my own gender

identity, this topic isn’t abstract. I was

always a little more feminine than masculine,

even as a child. For years, I repressed it

—hiding behind "boy clothes" and what society

expected of me. But in time, especially through

the support of loving partners and close

relationships, I came to embrace not only

my homosexuality but something even deeper:

the truth of my transgender identity. I am a

woman—a female self long trapped in a

male body.

Though I firmly believe clothing shouldn't

define gender—because gender identity is

internal, not sartorial—clothing still does carry

that symbolic weight in our world today. And

so, until I find the strength to publicly transition,

I express my femininity in the ways that are

available to me now: I wear bras and female

underwear every day in secret beneath my

outwardly masculine clothing. In private, I

allow myself to wear skirts, dresses, lingerie,

and the soft, beautiful fabrics that make me

feel aligned with my true self.

It’s not about performance. It’s about

presence. It’s about reclaiming what was

always mine.

The History of Clothing as a

Tool of Gender Control

To understand how we got here, we

must look back.

Clothing began as a means of protection.

But from early civilization onward, it

evolved into a tool of social stratification

—and eventually, a means of gender

control. Ancient societies created strict

visual codes for women, emphasizing

modesty, submission, and containment.

While men wore tunics or armor suited for

movement, battle, and public life, women

were wrapped, tied, bound, and veiled.

The message was clear: men moved freely

through the world. Women did not.

In medieval and early modern Europe, this

dichotomy hardened. Men's clothing was

practical. Women’s clothing was restrictive,

ornate, and often uncomfortably symbolic.

Corsets, crinolines, and hoop skirts made

running, fighting, or even breathing difficult.

These garments weren’t just fashion—

they were cages.

If you were wearing a dress, you weren’t riding

into battle. You weren’t speaking in court. You

weren’t commanding an army or a kingdom.

You were ornamental. You were controlled.

Modesty, the Female Chest, and

the Double Standard

These patterns persist today—nowhere

more clearly than in the sexualization of

the female chest. The fact that a man can

walk down the street shirtless without a

second glance, while a woman can be

arrested for doing the same, speaks

volumes. This isn’t about modesty. It’s

about power and shame.

The female chest has been hyper-sexualized

while simultaneously shrouded in taboo.

This serves to objectify women and punish

them at the same time. Even breastfeeding

in public is controversial in many places

—seen not as natural or maternal, but

as obscene.

This double standard is part of a larger

system that says women must be desirable

but modest, visible but not too loud, strong

but not threatening. And clothing is the

vehicle through which these contradictory

demands are enforced.

Clothing as Power—

and Resistance

Throughout history, clothing has helped

define who was allowed to hold power.

Male garments—uniforms, suits, boots

—were made for authority. Female

garments were not.

This is why women were long excluded

from spaces of governance and

decision-making. Until just a few decades

ago, women couldn’t wear pants in

courtrooms or on the floor of the

U.S. Senate. Power had a dress code

—and that dress code was male.

Today, those lines are blurring. The rise

of androgynous and gender-neutral

fashion challenges the old binaries.

More people are rejecting the idea

that clothes must conform to “male”

or “female.” Icons like Harry Styles,

Elliot Page, and Indya Moore are

showing that fashion can be fluid,

expressive, and liberating.

Yet, as someone living with a

transgender identity, I still feel the

weight of those norms. When I wear

a bra or slip on a dress, I’m not just

“playing dress-up.” I’m aligning myself

with my truth. I’m saying to the world

—even if they can’t see it yet—

that I know who I am.

The Future: Beyond

Gendered Fabric

We are in the midst of a slow but powerful

revolution. The #FreeTheNipple movement,

the rise of unisex clothing lines, and the

increased visibility of trans and nonbinary

voices all point to one truth: gender

expression cannot—and should not

—be policed by fabric.

But the work isn’t done. We still live in

a world where a child in a skirt is bullied,

where a trans woman is judged by her

ability to “pass,” and where freedom of

clothing is still a privilege, not a right.

So yes, I dream of a world where clothes

mean only what we want them to mean

—where they’re tools of expression, not

oppression. But until then, I will continue

to express my identity, my truth, my

womanhood—even if it’s still beneath

the surface, hidden under layers.

Because to wear what makes you feel

like you is an act of quiet rebellion. And

sometimes, rebellion begins in a closet.