One Dress Protest is me, Kristy Powell, wearing one dress for one year in order to protest the ideas and motivations behind how and why I wear my clothes. Over the year I aim to challenge the ways identity is constructed through clothing, what sustainability means for consumption, how our perception of others is so often based on external presentation, and what “fashion” ultimately means for me going forward.
{day 71}
Lent and the False Self
Lent, a season of intentionality and sacrifice in the Christian tradition, began last Wednesday. Each year, many Christians decide that for the season of Lent–a period of forty days leading up to Easter–they will intentionally abstain from one thing they value as a deliberate attempt to quiet their lives to better focus on the love and will of God.
Aside from when I was a little kid and gave something up for Lent to go through the experience with a friend I had, I’ve never really recognized or participated in it. (Oh, and there were those couple years in high school that I attempted to use Lent as a means to dieting.) But from what I can tell, it’s actually pretty standard to come across Christians who don’t actively take part in Lent each year, which is fine; no one mandates that Lent be observed from year to year. Yet those that choose to do so often give up something like meat or chocolate or coffee or… well, in my experience it’s generally been food-related. And that seems fine, too.
As you might imagine, though, this year–the one in which I’m “fasting from fashion”–I’m approaching Lent in a bit of a different light. In truth, this year is something of a perpetual Lent for me, wherein I’ve removed clothing consumption from my life in order to better understand who I am apart from my wardrobe, particularly in relationship to God.
So as Lent quickly approached this March, I actually greeted it with a strange familiarity, almost as if I said to myself, “Oh, Lent? Yeah, got that covered.” It took me a few weeks to recognize how terribly I was missing the point.
So Lent, as I understand it, is meant to commemorate the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness. There he fasted, prayed, and gave himself to preparation for the purposes and mission of God. Furthermore, in the wilderness he was tempted with desires of the human heart: comfort, prosperity, power, etc. After forty days and nights in the desert, Jesus was starved and vulnerable, reduced to a shell of the man he was before. And in that state, he saw most clearly the will and light of the One who loves and governs all.
Hence, Lent, as I take it, is to somehow signify, to some extent, our willingness to become less of who we are with the comforts and luxuries of daily life and more of our genuine and given self.
The more I think about it, the more of Lent’s significance begins to shine through to me. Thomas Keating, the great Trappist monk and spiritual teacher, once wrote that Lent is a time of “confrontation with the false self.” His idea was that in our normal day-to-day, we are prone to adding innumerable things to our lives to make living more bearable, to keep up with whatever standards we’ve set for ourselves, to better adhere to cultural norms. In short, to diminish our vulnerability as people, we add layers of stuff to ward off the painful bits of real life.
The problem is this, though: when we add lots and lots of stuff to ourselves and our lives, under all those layers we forget who and what we really are. Under the clothes, the food, the house, the car, the job, the roles, the political ideologies, etc, we forget that our true self is covered up by mistaken impressions of what makes us… us.
If this is starting to sound a little familiar, namely to those of you who read the ODP blog with any frequency, then you’re seeing what I’m getting at. Lent isn’t just some tired old ritual where we are to give something up because religion somehow mandates that we endure adversity every now and again. But it rather urges an immediate confrontation that we can have when one or more of our false layers are removed and we are left to stare down who we are apart from the self we have constructed.
This has been a major lesson for me in my “fast from fashion,” since for as long as I can remember in my own life, fashion has been a thick blanket I’ve thrown upon my life to keep from confronting who I am separate from what I can look like. In a sense, it’s kind of interesting how our clothes not only cover our nakedness, but construct who we want to be in the eyes of the world. Thus in so many ways they can become extra layers covering our true selves.
The intent of Lent then, is precisely what I’m after through ODP. I desire to rid myself of false layers and impressions and discover the more-true self hiding beneath.
Women who color their hair often say when asked about their natural hair color, “I wouldn’t even know, I’ve been coloring it since I was a young woman.” It’s a curious thing how we’re so accustomed to that which is not really who we are. Yet opportunities like Lent provide us a chance to begin to know ourselves a little better; to confront the aspects of our life that may have a hand in forming that “false” self. I, for one, desire to know my true self apart from fashion and to the greatest extent that I can.
What are the “layers” in your life that contribute to the sense of your “false” self? What could you remove so as to reveal who you really are? And can a period like Lent be a good opportunity for discerning just what that true self looks like?
I was thinking of your protest on a long car trip yesterday (without knowing the subject of your latest post). I was thinking about monks and nuns, and how their choice to wear a habit has a cultural acceptance that’s not there for your choice (I’m not saying that your choice is less valid, just that it’s less accepted). Wouldn’t you be charmed to see a nun at a wedding? You wouldn’t expect her to have a new dress or her hair “done.” You wouldn’t turn a monk away from a fancy party because he wasn’t in a tuxedo. Somehow their choices – their vows – completely supersede fashion.
On the other hand, I recently had an experience where clothing either revealed a part of me that had been languishing, or acted as some sort of costume to let me step into a role (not sure which). I work from home, which usually means deeply casual (read: PJs) dress in my home office. But recently I got done up in office-appropriate wear, put on makeup, even blow-dried my hair (!) When I was all done, I felt a level of authority and confidence that is, frankly, missing in my everyday.
So, finally getting around to your post – are my pjs hiding my confidence? Or do I need to work on finding an authentic source of confidence that goes beyond pjs or power suits? Maybe I need to peel back both the “junior executive” and the “pj keyboard warrior” to find the… writer? artist?
Great questions, Kristy!
I’ve certainly spent a good amount of time thinking of nuns and monks. I hadn’t specifically thought of those scenarios though, you’re absolutely right. I suppose a major difference in others receptivity and acceptance of my own ODP is that I’m just one woman doing something I’ve constructed, where as those are established and respected positions within society (despite their being counter-cultural). I suppose if I were to make this a lifetime personal vow of sorts, I’m thinking it would come to be received with the same sort of respect (by those I’m around)… I’d like to think.
The experience you’ve shared here is incredibly valuable and of particular interest to me. I’m thrilled you’re asking the questions that you are! I think your work from home experience is one many experience who also work from home, as I’m sure you know. It isn’t until you have an experience like the one you did (getting dressed-up and going out into the world, confidant and authoritative) that you may begin to question the impact of your at-home or out-of-the-home dress on self.
I’d love to hear what you make of these questions as you continue to work through them. I think we must acknowledge what different clothing/costumes do to/for our confidences, while at the same time I’d love to think that we could move beyond “pjs and power suits” for a more authentic source of confidence. I’m in this with you!
This morning as I was getting ready for the day, I began to question the reason I fast during lent. I had a vague notion in the back of my mind but hadn’t taken time to flesh it out.
Your post is a helpful reminder. There are many layers that need to be peeled off to find out who I really am. This year I am abstaining from a habitual spending pattern that I have come to take comfort in. But as you wrote, the layers can be deeper and more significant. I am challenged to meditate on my patch-work sense of self, consisting of “job, roles, political ideologies…” This is a life long journey and I hope at the end I will “see more clearly the will and light of the One who loves and governs all.”
I love and honor your intention to “meditation on [your] patch-work sense of self,” PJ.
This is beautifully written. Such a strong message. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on Lent!
Thanks, Kuleigh.
And I clicked over to your blog… I too went to CofC!
I am processing this very theme in my life. God’s “spotLight” is painful but fruitful. He will give us the strength to pull the thumb out of our mouths.
Thanks for nudging my thoughts in the right direction.
Your Truth seeking is beautiful.
Vee
Happy to nudge, and be nudged. Thanks for being a part of the ODP conversation, Vee.
Wow! This is so relevant to me right now. My family does Lent every year (mostly just for fun). This year I am giving up shopping for clothes and other things besides the necessary grocery shopping. I love how you described the meaning of Lent. I was just talking to a friend the other day about how so many of us “do” Lent but don’t even know why. But this post really captures what I’m learning through Lent this year. Thanks for the encouragement! I will be sharing this.
Your post on my thoughts and your own reflections on lent was really lovely to read. I hope that lent is filled with new discoveries this year of layers often less available. Let me know if you post more on your experience of your lenten sacrifice. Peace, Emily.