Pajamas are a Privilege
Wearing pajamas in public is a luxury most cannot “afford”
As a thirty-something year old white male, I often leave the house wearing clothes that might be considered subpar in the fashion world — or by anyone’s standards for that matter. Tattered T-shirts, socks with holes in them, stained sweatshirts, and pajama bottoms are among my repertoire. While I might simply attribute this to laziness or indifference, my willful lack of style unwittingly conveys a very different message to the rest of the world than I intend: my privilege.
“Dressing Down”
If our society values looks so much, why do I often choose to boldly go out in public wearing clothes that do not enhance my appearance? The answer is simple, as well as unfair— because I can.
The ability to dress however the hell I want is one of the many unmerited luxuries (i.e. privileges) of being a middle-class white man in America. My unkempt hair, tennis shoes with holes, and wrinkled cargo shorts do not simply convey my nonchalance about my appearance — they also put my unearned privilege on display.
While “dressing down” may be a choice for me — this is not a choice that most People of Color or women can afford to make if they want to be seen as successful in our society. As a white male living in America, I am unfairly part of a small social group that not only gets to make decisions about how I dress, but also how others are expected to “dress for success.”
Dress for Success
Formal attire, corporate attire, business attire — these are all coded terms created by white men about how everyone should dress in order to be perceived as successful by our standards. A tailored suit, a slick tie, polished dress shoes, and an expensive watch undoubtedly indicates the top tier for men; while a form-fitting dress, flawless make-up, straight hair, manicured nails, painful high heels, and a skinny body are the painfully unfair qualifiers of a successful woman in America.
Yet, in most settings, I am not expected to wear those clothes as long as I convey the sense that I am capable of “dressing up” whenever I feel like it. In other words, if I choose to wear pajama pants, say, in a coffee shop, or even in my workplace — rather than sending a signal that I can’t afford better clothes, I am likely conveying the exact opposite message.
In fact, by choosing to wear pajama bottoms in public, I am unwittingly telling the world that I do not have to care about my appearance in order for me to be perceived as successful. I am also telling the world that I don’t have to play by the rules set by white men like myself.
In contrast, when most women or BIPOC folks choose to wear pajama pants, or tattered clothes in public — our society usually judges not only their appearance, but also the person themselves. We will most likely assume that they cannot afford better clothes, or that they are lazy. We may also question their status, their wealth, their work ethic, their intelligence, and their overall competence.
When a woman or Person of Color chooses to wear pajama pants in public, it does not send the message that they are simply choosing not to display their actual status or potential wealth. On the contrary, it will most likely convey just the opposite — making them a target of judgment, ridicule, and condemnation.
While it might be true for me personally that I would still not be allowed into many formal events, or get hired for a job wearing pajama pants — there are plenty of other white men out there with enough power and status to get into whatever event they want, wearing whatever they want — not to mention run a Fortune 500 company wearing ratty jeans and an old T-shirt.
This is not about clothes…
So what does this all mean? Should I start dressing better and never wear frumpy clothes or pajamas in public ever again? Not necessarily — although my partner may disagree.
Ultimately, this is not about the clothes that I choose to wear — nor is it even about my appearance. This is about becoming more aware of the many luxuries (i.e. privileges) that most people in America simply do not have.
It is my responsibility to try and challenge these types of blatant double standards that exist both in my own mind, as well as within our society at large. I also can work to change the fact that we live in a world that was designed for white men, and by white men — a world in which we are still the self-appointed gatekeepers of what it means to “dress for success.”
Pajamas are not the problem—the problem is my perception and privilege.
