Quick note: I am writing this post as part of the Feminist Fashion Bloggers network. I'll be writing a few more posts in the coming weeks that bring feminism and fashion into conversation with each other, so be watching for those. And for more information on the Feminist Fashion Bloggers network, click here.

I was asked to write a little sum'n-sum'n about the idea of modesty, from my dual perspectives of a Mormon and a feminist. It's been a complex but fruitful thing to think about, and I'll get to that topic in a moment, but first: clothes.

Sheath dress (as tank top): secondhand Ann Taylor brand, $13 from thrift store

T-shirt: secondhand, gift from my mom

Skirt: secondhand D.P. Jeans brand, free from clothing swap

Heels: secondhand Nine West brand, $1 from yard sale

Earrings: secondhand vintage, hand-me-down from mom

Bracelet: local boutique, gift from my brother & his fiancee

Bag: Target, $25

The sheath dress remixing continues! I had a meeting on-campus with my boss today, and going to campus means dressing a certain way (more on that later). This dress is actually the perfect piece to accompany a discussion of modesty; it's a bit on the short side for my comfort and it's also sleeveless, so in order to make it modest, I have to employ some layering with each outfit. Layering-for-modesty is something I've been doing since, oh, age 14 or so. I added a comfy blue t-shirt underneath and a long skirt on top in this case. Voila - sufficiently modest.

Sheath Dress Remix #3:

See also:

Sheath Dress Remix #1

Sheath Dress Remix #2
Sheath Dress Remix #4

Sheath Dress Remix #5

Modesty is a very loaded word for me, ripe with both positive and negative feelings. This is why I haven't drawn special attention on the blog to my commitment to dress modestly; there are just so many connotations to consider. My thoughts on modest dressing have evolved through the years. It used to be a point of personal pride and even self-righteousness, as I saw my own clothing choices as superior to the choices of some other girls my age, the ones who wore tank tops and two-piece bathing suits. It’s also been something that represented religious commitment and respect for my body. My struggle hasn’t ever been to choose modest clothes; rather, it has been to develop a healthy perception of what modest clothes do and do not mean.

Before I go much further, I should probably clarify what qualifies as "modest" in my own measurement system of what I will and will not wear. This measurement system was highly influenced by my Mormon upbringing, but I certainly can't claim that my views are identical to all other Mormons' views on the subject. As I define it, modesty is characterized by:

- covered shoulders

- a neckline that doesn't show the curve of my breasts while standing (note: given my cup size, this one is easy)

- a mostly-covered back

- clothes that cover the belly and lower back while doing reasonable activity

- shorts/skirts/dresses that cover the majority of the thighs

- clothes that are not uncomfortably tight or sheer

As you can see, that list is full of subjective words - "mostly," "reasonable," majority," "uncomfortably" are all words that are up for individual interpretation. I get that modesty is subjective (I get that big time). I'll also say that this is all very situation-dependent; when I swim or exercise or have sexy-time with my husband, I wear things that don't conform to some/all of those rules, but I don't feel this is a violation of modesty; it's using clothes appropriately for their appropriate purposes. That's how I see it. Anyhow, these are the standards that I've held myself to since puberty, and they are simply automatic at this point. I don't hold anyone else in the entire world to my definition of what is and isn't modest.

Another dimension of Mormon modesty is that "endowed" members (ie Mormons who have made temple covenants) wear religiously-significant underclothing, which we commonly refer to as "garments." Endowed members are supposed to wear their garments pretty much all the time, and they're supposed to dress in a way that keeps the garments covered. Members can buy garments in various lengths, fabrics, and styles, so there's no single way to define what will and won't keep garments sufficiently covered; what all the garment styles have in common is that they cover the shoulders, chest, belly, back, pelvis, bum, and most of the thighs. 

I'm an endowed member of the church, so I wear these garments and keep them covered. This is a simpler way of defining what is and isn't modest, as it turns out, but the garments are meant to be symbolic of spiritual covenants, not to be used as a modesty measuring stick. As clothing styles develop through the decades, garment styles evolve to match. In the 1800s, garments were one-piece and went down to the wrists and ankles; nowadays, two-piece garments are available and cover less of the body (the women's styles look like an undershirt and a pair of long boyshort underwear). There's no real reason to expect that garment styles won't continue to change in coming years, which is fine since they're not about a universal, timeless standard of modesty; the garments symbolize covenants, whatever their length.

I was taught repeatedly while growing up in the Mormon church: Modesty is an outward symbol of an inward commitment. For me, that statement still holds true. I dress modestly because of my religious beliefs and because, to me, it represents a way to honor myself and my faith. Mormon doctrine teaches that our bodies are tremendous gifts and that we should act in a way that demonstrates reverence and gratitude for this gift; this means that the church discourages use of alcohol, cigarettes, illegal drugs, tattoos, excessive piercings, and - yep - dressing immodestly. As a religious person, these justifications make perfect sense to me. My modesty is motivated by faith, simply put, and I'm cool with that.

So, if I view all of this so positively, why do I have ambivalent feelings about the subject of modesty? I think it goes back to the way I was taught about modesty, the way this principle was presented to me by friends, family, and church leaders. These lessons often came from a place of judgment, whether in terms of judging others by how they dressed or trying to avoid being judged myself. One particularly damaging idea was that I, as a young woman, needed to dress modestly in order to avoid tempting the young men with whom I associated. I was responsible to make sure I wasn't "putting bad thoughts in their heads," that I wasn't turning into "walking pornography." I was taught these things repeatedly, and I bought into them. 

There was this underlying idea - sometimes stated, sometimes not - that males were not spiritual/mature/righteous enough to keep themselves from objectifying females, so we ladies had to do the work for them. We had influence, and we had to use it righteously. It was strangely gratifying, as a fifteen-year-old kid, to feel like I had that kind of power in this world. I felt like my level of modesty had a huge bearing on the spiritual welfare of me and any male who saw me, and I felt this way because I was taught to feel this way. It was a huge amount of responsibility for a young girl, which I both resented and liked, and as it turns out, that sense of responsibility got me into the lifelong habit of dressing modestly, so I guess it was a "success" in that way. But the lessons I was taught about modesty continue to hurt me and confuse me in ways that damage my spiritual welfare, that thing I was trying to protect in the first place. How sadly fitting.

Let me just say that during my teenage years, the years when I was being taught all the right and wrong reasons for dressing modestly, I would occasionally have moments of clarity. I wasn't too popular with the fellas, and when I was feeling particularly annoyed with or disinterested in the gender as a whole (as teenage girls are, sometimes), I would think to myself, "I don't want to be modest for them. I want to be modest because it's what I want, it's what I like. I want to do this for me and for God - no one else."

(this picture has nothing to do with anything, but I really like it and it lightens the mood)

I work for a church-sponsored university that has a code of conduct for its students and employees; that code includes dress and grooming standards. There's a heavy emphasis on modesty. All students and employees must agree to live by this code if they want to attend class/be hired.

In September, the newspaper at my university published an opinion piece, a Letter-to-the-Editor type thing, from a student who was upset over the way female classmates were dressing. He didn't feel they were living up to the dress standards set forth in the code of conduct, specifically in terms of wearing skirts/shorts/dresses that were too short. You can read the student's letter here, but I have to tell you that I found it pretty infuriating, even as someone who is familiar with this particular academic climate and the religious culture that contributes to it, so consider that fair warning. I'll be excerpting the relevant portions here.

I was very upset by this letter and submitted a response opinion piece to the newspaper. They didn't publish it (blame it on my wordiness), but they published two or three other responses that expressed my same feelings very well. There were a number of things that bothered me in the initial letter; it reeked of voyeurism, for one thing, and the tone was incredibly holier-than-thou. Though I recognize the author's stated intent to reinforce the already agreed-upon dress standards of the university, it came across as an intent to reprimand immodest women and show them the ample error of their ways, because he knows sooooo much better. Barf. Very frustrating.

There are lots of things wrong with the published letter, but the pre-eminent one in my mind is the author's effort to equate a person's woman's level of modesty with her level of character. This is ultimately my fear when it comes to teaching modesty from a religious perspective. I quote:

"Sisters, have you lost your sense of dignity? Integrity?"
"Sadly, it seems that many of you don’t care what you signed ..."
"Girls on campus and in the Church are wearing shorter and shorter outfits. It’s appalling to me, and to many other guys, because it doesn’t say much of you and your character."

It is very, very bothersome to me that my religious community produces men and women who judge others' character based on the way they dress. If you don't understand why this pattern of judgment would be bothersome, I'm not sure I can explain it adequately, but I think I can summarize by saying that people are complex, and judging them by their adherence to one standard (a standard that they may not hold, by the way) is ineffective, unfair, and small.

I know that this outlook is not unique to Mormons or even religious people in general. It is not unique to the town, state, or country I live in. It is not unique to college students, old folks, males, females, Republicans, Democrats, or the upper-middle-class. This way of judging others is widespread, and that saddens me; it saddens me when I participate it in such judgment myself, which I most definitely do despite my efforts.

When all is said and done, modesty is important to me, as both a Mormon who wants to honor her faith and as a feminist who wants to combat the objectification of women. The difficult thing is that I can counteract both of those desires if I'm not careful. Modesty can become a point of pride and judgment, and that's not the way I want to live my faith; modesty can become a way to unfairly define and limit women, and that's not the way I want to live my feminism. This is an ongoing balancing act. I'm not always getting it right. But I am taking responsibility for my views, my actions, and my outward presentation of self. I claim that right and feel good about it. But don't worry: I'll try to be modest in my self-congratulation, too.

Dressing While Feminist: Bras, Hobbies, and Pictures in the Park

Quick note: I am writing this post as part of the Feminist Fashion Bloggers network. I'll be writing a few more posts in the coming weeks that bring feminism and fashion into conversation with each other, so be watching for those. And for more information on the Feminist Fashion Bloggers network, click here.

I started out by taking a Saturday off from blogging. When Sunday rolled around, I figured I should rest for the whole weekend, which became a three-day then a four-day weekend. Between the tragedies in Japan, camera struggles, work, lackluster outfits, and menstrual stress, I didn't much feel like writing new posts. But it's back-in-the-saddle time, all for the good of the Feminist Fashion Bloggers network.

Purple sweater: Moda International brand secondhand, free from clothing swap
Blue sweater: Gap, $15
Jeans: American Eagle Outfitters, $20
Shoes: secondhand, free from clothing swap
Necklace: secondhand vintage, free from mom
Pin: saved from the floor of a friend's car
Turquoise ring: $11 from consignment shop
Book: gift from friend

I'm pondering a question today: How do I express my feminism in the way I dress? Answering honestly, I have to say that it's sometimes a question of if I express my feminism in the way I dress, and occasionally, the answer to that is "No."

There's no guideline out there for "dressing like a feminist," nor should there be. However, I think a valid approach would probably include respecting your own body and not hurting it for the sake of fitting some societal mold. Dressing with that rule in mind would certainly be an expression of my own brand of feminism, and it's what I tried to do today. Not one inch of me is uncomfortable, people. Do I follow through with this intention 100% of the time? Nope.

I wrote back in January about an especially painful day spent wearing heels that were pretty but didn't fit my feet. My shoulders have occasionally ached from carrying huge, trendy purses that I couldn't help but stuff loads of crap into. On my wedding day, I wore a pretty white dress so tight that I struggled to breathe; my mom and I took regular breaks where she would unzip the back, let me fill my lungs for a minute or so, then zip things up again so I could greet the next round of guests. When it comes to respecting the needs and limits of my own body, I am not a perfect example and I am not the perfect feminist.

But I have had my breakthrough moments. All through high school and college, I wore padded bras in order to mask the true, underwhelming size of my breasts and look more "womanly." These padded bras were never ridiculously over-the-top or painful, but they were usually uncomfortable, and about a year ago, I opted for some well-made bras that didn't hide or accentuate a thing. The change in comfort level cannot be overstated. Lo and behold, I've come to love the silhouette that I see in the mirror by first being real about it. A woman's self-acceptance is, I think, a boldly feminist act, and that's what I found when I started to acknowledge the true state of my body. I'm sure I'll have to work on that same kind of acceptance as my body changes in the coming years, and surely honoring the needs of my body in the form of comfortable clothes (and undergarments) will help me to do just that.

Aside from the pain vs. comfort factor, another dimension of this issue is the way in which a woman presents herself and identifies herself through clothing choices. Can someone clearly demonstrate her/his feminism with clothes? In the case of a "This Is What A Feminist Looks Like" t-shirt, sure. Short of slogans, though, what are some other markers? I'm not sure there are any.

I'm a fairly-feminine woman (at least as far as my culture defines "feminine"), and I imagine that contradicts some folks' ideas of what a feminist looks like. I wear makeup frequently, enjoy skirts and dresses, own my fair share of jewelry, and maintain an acceptable level of leg/armpit hair. We can't devalue these practices in favor of gender equality, because devaluing the markers associated with women only serves to devalue womanhood itself.

We see an example of this when it comes to traditionally feminine hobbies (knitting, crocheting, quilting, etc.), which have occasionally been scoffed at as meaningless, frittering tasks that repressed women undertake because they have nothing worthwhile to do with their time. Sometimes this view extends to other domestic arts, such as cooking, keeping a clean house, or caring for children, and I've also seen it applied to the sphere of hobby-blogging. Such an outlook is really off-base, in my opinion, because it sends the message that whatever a sizable number of women are interested in must be second-rate, perhaps for no other reason than that women are the ones expressing interest.

What we can change is the way that we associate these hobbies and talents with gender. There is truly no 1:1 correlation when it comes to a person's gender and his/her habits, interests, or hobbies. If someone's going to judge the way I dress, it's only sensible that he/she should see it as a reflection of me (though not the sum total of me, I should note). I think I express my feminism by expecting that other people will see me as an individual and not as a representative of my gender; this assumption frees me up to dress for myself (and to triumph or fail for myself) rather than for a huge segment of the population.

Unexpectedly, pursuing this hobby of style blogging has taken some feminist gusto. I have to keep reminding myself to take my own interests seriously, especially in the face of self-doubt. There's such a weird double-bind in this area; if a woman doesn't care how she looks, she's labeled a slob who's "let herself go," but if she cares too much, she's "trying too hard" and labeled a narcissist. Does liking clothes make me superficial, I wonder? Am I putting my efforts in the right direction? Will other people respond favorably to this blog? I've held back from telling very many friends about my new corner of the internet because of these worries; I've also second-guessed myself.

But, as I mentioned earlier, I really do feel that self-acceptance is a feminist action, and that acceptance can extend beyond the limits of my body. I'm trying to accept my natural inclinations, my curiosities. I'm trying to feel okay taking pictures in a public park, trying to feel that I have as much right to be there as anyone else. In this sense, I'm not so much expressing my feminism in how I dress, but moreso in demonstrating that I value my own opinion -- about how I dress and about everything else.

(Check out other bloggers' responses to the idea of expressing feminism through fashion by clicking here.)

A Single Standard (or, Where Motherhood, Modesty, Mormons, and Feminism Meet)

Quick note: I am writing this post as part of the Feminist Fashion Bloggers network. I'll be writing a few more posts in the coming weeks that bring feminism and fashion into conversation with each other, so be watching for those. And for more information on the Feminist Fashion Bloggers network, click here.

If I learned anything as an English major, it's that you've gotsta have an opening paragraph with a thesis, and here's mine:

In religious and political rhetoric, women are often subjected to Single Standards -- codes of behavior that are meant to apply uniformly to all members of a certain group. Single Standards might include regulations of dress, proscribing the length, color, or other characteristics of clothing items. They might also extend to the realms of family and parenting. Plentiful though they may be, Single Standards are often ineffective and unreasonable as they overlook individual diversity and personal biases.

(Man, my opening paragraphs are boring-sauce.)

So there's this county commissioner in Maryland, and he (along with some other elected officials, I assume) voted to reduce the county's Head Start budget by half. His reasoning was that the children who attend Head Start shouldn't be there, because they should be at home with their mothers, because a mother's place is in the home. And I quote: "The mother's role is primarily in the home and my wife happens to agree with me, as do many people, and so do my kids." I'm glad he and his wife (and many other people) are on the same page, and I'm really glad that this setup worked for their family, but not every family is like his.

(Before I go any further, I should note that I'm getting all of my information on this from an article in The Washington Post. I had to do a fair bit of deducing from the article; if you read it and find that I've deduced incorrectly, please accept my sincerest apologies.)

I don't live in Maryland or work for Head Start, so it might seem kind of strange that this minor news story came to my attention at all, until you know that this commissioner, Paul Smith, is Mormon, and I'm Mormon, and I read my fair share of Mormon-run blogs that feature Mormon-related factoids from around the globe.

Sexism annoys me, so insofar as Mr. Smith's vote was motivated by his personal beliefs about gender roles, I'm annoyed. But what further gets my goat (please tell me that's the right expression ...) is that he's using a document from the church - his church and mine and millions of other peoples' - to justify his vote to the media. His interpretation of that document is really different from mine (he seems to think it supports the idea that a mother's place is in the home; I find no such sentiment), so of course I feel like he's representing Mormonism poorly. That said, I make my own mistakes and stupid comments, and I'd hope that no one evaluated my religious community based on my personal failings, so I'll resist the urge to travel down that judgmental road in this case.

What I do want to discuss is this idea of a Single Standard - a standard like "Mothers should stay at home with their children." As I see it, there are two main problems with having a Single Standard: (1) it doesn't acknowledge the diversity of people that are being held to that standard; (2) the person setting the standard might very well be doing so based on his/her own biases.

Does this relate to clothes? Maybe not at first, but give me a minute ...

Applying this Single Standard idea to clothes might illustrate what I'm getting at. I grew up in a church community and in a family that put a big emphasis on modest dressing, i.e. choosing clothes that cover the body to one extent or another. It was a HUGE deal when I was a teenager and continues to be a huge deal for young Mormon women of today. The church's leadership does give guidelines for dress and appearance, mostly broad, and those guidelines seem reasonable to me. It would be very different for a church leader (or other authority figure) to hold up a piece of clothing - a skirt, let's say - and impose a Single Standard. In this case, a Single Standard would boil down to "This skirt is appropriate" or "This skirt is not appropriate." The problems with this kind of labeling are the ones I mentioned earlier:

(1) It doesn't acknowledge diversity. Our bodies aren't identical; that hypothetical skirt might be loose, long, and flowy on a petite person, but put that same skirt on a taller woman, and the "modesty" factor would necessarily change. It's the same story with shirts, shorts, jackets, and all the rest. Personal application: I'm a woman with a very small bustline and very small breasts. Shirts that are "fine" on me would be cleavage-baring for my bosomy friends, which they may or may not be okay with. In this case, applying a Single Standard to me and to curvier women would be ludicrous. The broader guideline is to "Dress modestly," which leaves room for diversity of bodies; the Single Standard interpretation of that guideline assumes sameness, both ignorantly and incorrectly.

(2) The person setting the Single Standard is doing so with bias. The accusation of "bias" is not meant as an insult. We've all got biases, and they don't make us bad people; they just mean that we grew up in a specific world and that we perceive everything in a specific way because of it. The problem comes when we don't recognize our biases and when we rudely, unapologetically try to impose them on others. In the example of the person holding up a skirt and proclaiming its level of appropriateness, that claim comes from a very specific background. That background wouldn't account for people from other cultures (cultures where the ideas of dress are completely different), and it therefore doesn't work across the board. Look, I am not going to adhere to a Saudi Arabian standard, an Orthodox Jewish standard, a Brazilian standard, a French standard of modesty, because those standards don't match my perceptions; it would be similarly ludicrous to expect that people in those cultures would adhere to my standards. Setting a Single Standard is simply ineffective and inapplicable to so many people.

Now that we've covered clothes, let's migrate back to the afore-mentioned situation in Maryland ...

The church document that I mentioned and linked to earlier is called "The Family: A Proclamation to the World," and it's a staple of modern Mormonism. One of the things I love about this document is that it follows the pattern of setting out guidelines and acknowledging the need for adaptation, and I see this pattern as vastly superior to proclaiming a Single Standard.

Among the guidelines set forth in the proclamation is that, "By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners."

That's the guideline, like it or lump it. I've certainly got my issues with the sentiments expressed and the wording used (what does it mean to "preside" in a relationship of "equal partners"? Still trying to sort that one out ...). I'm not here to defend the guideline, even though I do believe in it to an extent. What I am here to celebrate is the sentence that immediately follows: "Disability, death, or other circumstances may necessitate individual adaptation." There. This acknowledgment is humongous. It says that diversity exists, and it supports the ways that families respond to their own uniqueness. It combats a Single Standard by saying, "Hey, this method is preferable, but it doesn't always work out, and we get that." (And by the way, "disability, death, or other circumstances" are often the motivation for seeking out daycare and Head Start enrollment for one's children. So it's odd to me that this county official is using the proclamation to disparage Head Start, when the proclamation seems to leave sufficient room for just such an organization, tax-funded or otherwise.)

And so, Mr. Paul Smith, county commissioner in Frederick, Maryland, please stop making unwavering statements and setting forth a Single Standard about what women should do and how mothers should behave. I will wear the clothes that are modest by my standards, and I will care for my future children in the way that is best according to my understanding, and I will not bow to someone telling me I'm wrong on either count.

It's certainly within your rights to believe and say what you wish, and I support those rights, but dude, I was bothered by what you said. Blanket statements -- "Women should _______" and "Mothers should ________" -- ignore the diversity that's out there, as though all women are the same and come with an identical set of needs, opportunities, interests, obstacles, and experiences. Vote to decrease Head Start funding if you wish, but as a personal favor to me, please stop evaluating mothers' choices based on your own biases and ignorance. Contrary to what you imply, children are not attending Head Start because their parents are materialistic and seeking an unreasonably-high standard of living, because they're trying to "move into a mansion." Come on, dude -- get real. And a last request: stop misrepresenting the proclamation and, by extension, the church we both belong to. Pretty please.

Fashionable Feminist Icon: Ellen Page

Quick note: I am writing this post as part of the Feminist Fashion Bloggers network. I'll be writing a few more posts in the coming weeks that bring feminism and fashion into conversation with each other, so be watching for those. And for more information on the Feminist Fashion Bloggers network, click here.

When asked to choose a fashionable feminist icon of my very own, I felt a strange personal pressure to look for her (or him, I guess) in previous generations. Perhaps the suffragists of the late-19th and early-20th centuries would hold a suitable choice; they had those wonderful hats, after all.

Or perhaps I should look in the movement to ratify the Equal Rights Amendment, during the 1970s. Feminists galore! In wide-legged pants, with blazers and pins!

In all honesty, though, picking women from these days would have been false. I admire them fiercely, but are they my fashion icons? No, they are not.

Then I realized the error of my ways: I was looking in every place and time but my own, believing in the popular idea that feminism is in the past. As often as I see headlines lamenting the death of feminism in my generation, swearing that young women just don't care about these issues anymore, my own experience is much to the contrary. I know some young feminists personally and admire others from afar, and since many of my personal fashion icons have ages similar to mine, it stands to reason that my feminist fashion icon would as well.

Enter the wonderful Ellen Page -- just two days older than me, every bit a feminist, and a source of personal fashion inspiration.

It's not necessarily easy to pinpoint the genuine style of an actor or a model; people in these professions are so often styled in a certain way for roles or promotional shoots. From what I can tell, though, Ellen Page's style hinges heavily on comfort, androgyny, layering, and simple dresses (usually black) when the occasion calls. Whether she looks dressy or casual or disinterested in fashion, she looks like herself. She's not a clotheshorse or, thus far, a muse for designers and stylists; she's Ellen, getting dressed, and I like the way she does it.

Ellen is a good ol' fashion tom boy and she wears it well. She even claims to wear the same jeans and flannel on almost every day of the week. Ellen told the New York Times “I always want to dress up like an animal or something really obscure, like a carrot or a wrench,” she said last weekend. “That would be awesome.”
(source)

“I am a feminist and I am totally pro-choice, but what’s funny is when you say that people assume that you are pro-abortion. I don’t love abortion but I want women to be able to choose and I don’t want white dudes in an office being able to make laws on things like this. I mean what are we going to do – go back to clothes hangers?”
(source)

When asked about what Hollywood is like for women:
“I think it’s a total drag. I’ve been lucky to get interesting parts but there are still not that many out there for women. And everybody is so critical of women. If there’s a movie starring a man that tanks, then I don’t see an article about the fact that the movie starred a man and that must be why it bombed. Then a film comes out where a woman is in the lead, or a movie comes out where a bunch of girls are roller derbying, and it doesn’t make much money and you see articles about how women can’t carry a film.”
(source)

"All I mean by [calling myself a feminist] is that I would like women to be equal to men, so I'd probably hope that everyone's a feminist. Women still get paid less than men, and women's bodies are still treated like ornaments, and young girls are being hypersexualised, and it's really unfortunate. I hope that most people would be feminists, whether male or female."

on whether she had input on the way Juno dressed:
"Yes... I was very specific, I was like: 'This girl's wearing a sweater-vest!' I knew how I wanted her to look. I wanted her to wear a sweater-vest, or wear baggy pants or wear a flannel shirt and be unapologetic for it. Like: that's okay, that doesn't mean anything, you know what I'm saying? People get judged for the way they dress, especially in junior high or high school, and it's, like, really childish."

"I do think there's this hypersexualised energy that happens with young girls, especially because so much is projected on you. You're told what you're supposed to find sexy, what to listen to, how to dress, it just goes on and on. I get pretty frustrated with how young females are commonly portrayed in popular media, but maybe with a film like Juno that will slowly start changing and people will be less narrow-minded and less judgmental."

on whether she'll get tons of media attention:
"You know, I still live in Nova Scotia in a small apartment with used furniture and that's just genuinely who I am. It's not to make some judgment or statement against Hollywood. I keep my feet on the ground and just try to be as sincere as... you know, as honest as possible. And anyway I'm pretty boring. I mean, I'm an active person, I love camping, I love hiking, and I love to travel, and I love to read, and I play the guitar, and that's about it. I don't go out a lot. I'll never receive that kind of Lindsay Lohan attention because people will be like: 'Here's Ellen Page with her tent going camping!' I don't really think they'll do a story about Ellen Page eating a mooseburger in Newfoundland."
(source)