Hello Catholic High School (CHS),

It took me three years, but I finally figured out why I had such a terrible time at my Junior prom: because you called me a slut. And now I'd like to call you out too.

That evening, I was talking to a group of my friends when a chaperone indiscreetly announced in front of the group that I was in violation of the dress code: “Fiona, we have rules about what can be worn here at prom and you’re not in compliance with those rules. Follow me.” In the hallway, a former teacher of mine looked me up and down and said, “Someone said your dress was too short and so I should take a look at you. To me the real problem is the cleavage though. Go into the bathroom.”

There I was, 16 years old and already insecure about having chosen to wear a short dress instead of a long one as most prom gals do, being looked up and down and told that my chest was a “problem.” I was made to feel like my body, once a whole, was being hacked into parts and this woman, who had been hired to evaluate my intellect (not my boobs), was the one holding the hatchet.

In the bathroom, the dean of students was cutting black cloth into sections and handed them out to me and my fellow transgressors. We were instructed to pin them into the front of our dresses to cover any cleavage. I felt extremely uncomfortable as this woman (my former Latin teacher!) eyed my chest to make sure everything was covered up, and did her very best to ignore my attempts at awkward conversation. In that moment I was not a person but a pair of tits to be covered, a problem to be solved.

While every woman has been objectified in one way or another, there is a distinct difference between being harassed by an equal and by those in a position of authority over you. When men make rude or childish comments, I feel comfortable telling them that they're being stupid/should leave me the hell alone. When it's your teachers, the authority, the people who you are supposed to trust and come to, that are making you feel like a bundle of body bits, is when it's really affecting. Our whole lives we have been told to respect our teachers. When the threat of a detention or simply the fear of being rude looms in front of you, it can feel impossible to stand up for yourself.

So CHS, in enforcing these rules you were creating the very problem you were allegedly trying to prevent. In saying, “Don’t look at girls’ boobs!” you were staring at every set of boobs in the house. The result was an experience which made me feel devalued as a person. When this is the case, you must decide which is the greater sin: a young woman shows a little more cleavage, a little more leg, or you become the host of a hostile atmosphere which tells young women that they are not the owners of their bodies.

Looking back, I wish I had got up and left or explained how you were feeding into patriarchal and destructive habits towards women, or stripped off my dress and started a chant of "Free the Nip!", anything but smiling politely and accepting the black cloth — my scarlet A for the evening — as though it were a gift. But you’re trained to obey your teachers.

This aggressively puritanical attitude is extremely destructive. We take for granted the idea that women’s bodies are inherently a sexual object for being covered. Why though? Why should women’s bodies be subject to so much scrutiny, judgment, hostility, desire, and aggression? The way you, CHS, behaved that evening perpetuated this distorted mentality.

I can hardly assume I was the only one who felt this way, as at least two girls cried, and many others expressed to me feelings of embarrassment and shame as a result of the way they were treated. I'm just expressing this side of the ordeal in order that prom, and our experiences as women, might go differently in the future.

Two years ago a form of this letter was sent to both the Principle and Dean of Students... I have yet to receive a response.