When you walk the grid that is Manhattan, in the sweltering days of summer, you can’t help but notice…let’s say politely observe…and sometimes, yes, gawk at the amount of bare-butt sidewalk traffic. If New York could win at something, it would be at the loss of the female pant leg. When the hemline of the lady short is gracing our groins, it’s hard not to wonder what the hell is happening?

I wear shorts. Denim ones, stretchy ones, glittery ones and recently, due to my own curiosity, rather short ones.
Mind you I couldn’t always wear shorts. I was born a Muslim, and shorts were for sluts. In the summer heat on England’s green pastures, while my yellow haired friends frolicked about with their legs splashing, the dark hairs on my legs poked out of thick cotton tights. I was hot and sweaty, but I was a woman who was meant to be covered.

I left all that nonsense behind, and now I live in Brooklyn, where couples have open relationships, babies are learning yoga, and people wear whatever they want.
Sometimes it may look like Hansel and Gretel costumes, sometimes it’s their pajamas, and at other times, it could be a pair of really short shorts.

Men don’t typically wear really short shorts. So, why are women parading their arses around so liberally? Why do I? Of course we have the right to our bodies, and we can wear what we want, not to mention it’s what in style, but I’m interested in where this all comes from in the first place.

If women were respected for something other than their beauty first, would we choose to dress this way? If a woman could walk on the street, and immediately be recognized and respected and revered for her humanity, would we reduce ourselves to being scantily clad in order to feel feminine, or sexy, or fashionable, or ‘worthy’? If we were not shortlisted in the leading arenas for cultural change, would we continue to wear shorts that rival underpants?

Tinkerbell doesn’t have many clothes on. She’s flying around in a mini dress, with a blonde ponytail and wings. Jasmine’s breasts are popping out of her top. Beyonce preaches feminism in sparkly panties. Our role models are of women who don’t wear much, and are revered for it. But is this the kind of reverence we are after? Is this the kind of reverence that will take us to new levels of female leadership? Can we find different ways to express our self worth?

I’m not saying we should all start wearing burqas. That doesn’t seem very liberated either, but if we took the objectification of women out of the window, how would you choose to dress in the morning?