Unraveling the Thread: How Clothing Has Been Used to Subjugate Women—and Why That’s Changing

 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.