What Clothes Make of Us

Clothes may not make the monk, but they certainly shape who we are. They are, without question, one of our most powerful tools of communication. So much so that one of the cruelest ways to humiliate—or even annihilate—a person is to strip them bare, tearing away the image in which they find comfort and recognize themselves.
A striking study on this very subject found that wearing a Superman t-shirt could give people an edge. Researcher Karen Pine at the University of Hertfordshire had students wear either a Superman shirt or other t-shirts. The results were clear: those in the Superman shirt felt more attractive and superior to their peers. When asked to estimate how much weight they could lift, the Superman wearers believed themselves stronger than those in ordinary shirts.
Decades of similar research confirm what we might suspect: clothes directly and unconsciously shape how we see ourselves and how others see us. There is no reason to think that people with disabilities experience anything different. They too deserve to dress beautifully and originally, to express themselves through what they wear.
Disability is part of the human condition, yet prejudice treats people with disabilities as a separate category—a uniform, asexual minority stripped of aesthetic desire. They are simply people. Like everyone else, they have the right to express their uniqueness through clothing.
It may seem obvious, but how others perceive us as "disabled" is bound up with image. Here is reason enough to treat ourselves with more kindness and to allow others to do the same: clothing and personal grooming are rights that must never be taken away.
Those old enough remember the Sunday dress and the everyday clothes. You wore your best to Mass, then took a walk. There was something wonderful about feeling good in your own skin—the confidence that came from the care taken, the approving glances you caught. A touch of healthy narcissism to nurture and pass on.
«It is Sunday inside me too,» wrote Fernando Pessoa, «even my heart goes into a church it doesn't know where, and it goes there in a child's velvet suit, with a face that blushes at first impressions while smiling with sad eyes above a collar too large.»