Bonnets, Do rags, Pajamas, and the Question of Dignity: Motherist Reflection
- Dr. LEW
- Jul 29
- 4 min read
There has been considerable discussion in higher education surrounding Tuskegee University’s recent dress code policy prohibiting bonnets, do-rags, pajamas, and house shoes in certain campus settings.
Ironically, what is not being discussed as widely is the simultaneous expectation around other forms of conduct and distraction in academic spaces, including the use of cell phones. At the center of the debate are two competing values.
One perspective argues, “You cannot tell me what to wear. My clothing is an expression of my autonomy, individuality, and personal freedom.” Another asks an equally important question: “How do you want to be seen in the world, and what message does your appearance communicate in different settings?”
Neither question should be dismissed. Both deserve thoughtful consideration.
As I have reflected on this conversation through a Motherist lens, I find myself asking not simply, Who is right? but Who is responsible for teaching?
Scripture reminds us, “Train up a child in the way they should go…” (Proverbs 22:6). While this passage is often quoted in discussions of parenting, its deeper implication is that communities bear responsibility for formation. We teach not only through words but through modeling, correction, encouragement, and example.
Today’s debate extends far beyond a university policy. Walk into many public spaces—Walmart, Dollar Tree, airports, grocery stores—and it is increasingly common to see people dressed in what previous generations considered sleepwear. This is not unique to one race, gender, generation, or socioeconomic class. It has become part of a broader shift in popular culture.
The question, then, is not simply whether pajamas or bonnets are appropriate. The deeper question is: Who teaches discernment between what is popular and what is appropriate for particular spaces?
I admit that I carry the perspective of my generation. I grew up hearing, “Don’t leave the house with curlers in your hair. If you must, cover them with a scarf.” Those lessons were not merely about appearance. They reflected a belief that one’s presentation communicated self-respect and respect for others. And, I also believe, part of this conversation is about focus and intention about whether our presentation supports or distracts from the purpose of the spaces we enter. From an administrative perspective, is this also about minimizing distraction and reinforcing an environment centered on learning and professional preparation?
Those teachings were also shaped by history.
For many older African Americans, clothing has never been merely fashion. It has been connected to dignity, survival, and liberation. Enslaved Africans were denied the freedom to choose how they dressed. Clothing became another instrument of domination, with coarse fabrics and degrading uniforms reinforcing one’s social status. After Emancipation, dressing well became, for many Black families, an act of resistance—a declaration of humanity in a society determined to deny it.
Likewise, some symbols carry generational meanings. For some older Black women, the bonnet recalls images of domestic servitude and slavery. For others today, it represents practicality, hair care, and self-expression. Similarly, sagging pants evoke different associations depending on one’s generation, including links to prison culture for some and fashion for others.
These differing interpretations remind us that symbols evolve, but history does not disappear.
This is why the conversation is so layered.
Should we judge a person’s character by how they are dressed? Certainly not. Clothing alone does not determine integrity, intelligence, spirituality, or worth. Yet neither should we pretend that clothing carries no social meaning. Whether fair or unfair, appearance influences first impressions in classrooms, workplaces, courtrooms, boardrooms, and places of worship.
That reality deserves honest discussion rather than dismissal.
From a Motherist perspective, this is not fundamentally about policing clothing. It is about preparation.
Motherist leadership asks whether we are equipping people to navigate multiple worlds successfully. It asks whether we are teaching context, discernment, and wisdom. There is a difference between saying, “You can never wear this,” and teaching, “There is a time and place for everything.”
Not everything embraced by popular culture serves us well. Popularity has never been the same as wisdom.
Perhaps this is one of those moments when elders, educators, parents, faith communities, and young people need to sit at the same table not to shame one another, but to listen across generations. Young people deserve to explain what these forms of dress mean to them. Elders deserve to explain why certain images evoke memories of struggle, exclusion, and hard won dignity.
The goal should not be conformity for its own sake.
The goal is formation.
Tuskegee University has a unique responsibility because it prepares students for professional and civic leadership. Institutions of higher education do not simply transmit knowledge; they also socialize students into the expectations of various professions. Whether one becomes an entrepreneur, physician, educator, attorney, clergy member, or corporate executive, understanding context and professional presentation remains part of leadership development.
The larger question, however, extends beyond Tuskegee.
As African Americans, what now informs our sense of dignity? Where do pride and self-respect meet? How do we honor both individual expression and communal responsibility? And how do we prepare the next generation to move confidently between cultural authenticity and professional expectation without sacrificing either?
Those are Motherist questions.
I would love to hear your thoughts.
Are we losing our sense of dignity, redefining it, or discovering new ways to express it? Where do dignity and pride meet—and who bears responsibility for teaching the next generation how to carry both?
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