hen I woke up on April 29, I started my day like any other. Like most people, the first thing I did when I woke up was check my phone. After reading through my notifications and emails, I opened Instagram. After a few minutes of lazily scrolling through selfies and news headlines, I came across a mirror selfie of a girl in skinny jeans. She was posed in a flattering manner and had her tongue sticking out. The post had the Denim Day website’s “about” page copy and pasted.
The caption described an Italian court case from the ’90s in which a 45-year-old driving instructor was prosecuted for raping an 18-year-old girl. Years later, the perpetrator appealed the conviction, claiming that they had consensual sex. The Italian Supreme Court overturned the conviction, stating that since the victim was wearing very tight jeans, she had to help him remove them. Therefore, they had consensual sex. Enraged by the verdict, women in the Italian Parliament protested on the steps of the Supreme Court wearing jeans.
The caption ended with a statement expressing that clothing does not imply consent. If you look up #denimday on Instagram, you’ll see countless photos of people’s waists and people wearing nothing but jeans. These photos range from mirror selfies to being topless in a flower field. Additionally, the majority of these posts had the same copy-pasted caption with few edits.
Every year on a designated day in April, millions of women around the world wear denim to protest sexual violence. After international media picked up the court case, the California Senate and Assembly were inspired to do the same in Sacramento. Patti Occhiuzzo Giggans, Executive Director of Peace Over Violence, saw this and created Denim Day so that everyone could wear jeans to protest all myths about why women are raped. The first Denim Day was held in April of 1999 and the event has continued annually since.
As a sexual assault survivor, seeing social media posts about Denim Day is triggering. I don’t feel supported, advocated for or recognized. Seeing most Denim Day posts on social media makes me feel isolated and as though people are publicly profiting from my extremely painful and personal experience. Someone posting a hot photo of themselves in jeans feels like a call for attention under the guise of protesting sexual violence, and the copy-pasted caption does not help. Also, in addition to “#denimday” in their caption, a lot of these posts have other hashtags inserted, such as “#fashion” and “#inspo.” While many people who post these pictures have good intentions, the posts can be a bit off-target and will not necessarily convey the message they’re meant to convey.
Granted, hashtag activism in itself has faced endless criticism of this sort. This type of activism can be interpreted as lazy, reliant on convenience and a public symbol of concern that doesn’t make any sort of change. In the case of Denim Day, many people wear denim on a daily basis, so it’s extremely easy to wear or post a picture in your normal clothing. Additionally, hashtag activism is very dependent on what is trending. A lot of people who participate in Denim Day are able to “advocate” for victims of sexual assault for one day of the year and forget about them for the rest of it.
While the convenience of Denim Day may be interpreted as laziness, some argue that this is a feature, not a bug. Because most people own denim, everyone is equipped to participate in the protest. Posting a photo now, during the COVID-19 pandemic, also allows people to show support while following social distancing guidelines. The trendiness of the day also allows sexual assault survivors to protest violence without singling themselves out. Additionally, many offices and workplaces with strict dress codes, such as the Air Force Academy, allow jeans on Denim Day, definitely making the day stand out.
Denim Day in itself is an amazing opportunity to show support for sexual assault advisors and to express that clothing is not equivalent to consent. Participation in the event isn’t inherently bad, but it’s not inherently good either. If someone is going to participate in Denim Day, or any awareness campaign for that matter, it’s critical that they are mindful of how they portray themselves. When sexual violence activism comes off as inauthentic, it’s more triggering than comforting.
Photos that come off as “feel-good” activism make me feel like my extremely painful experience has been simplified into a social media trend from which others can profit. Posts that look inauthentic make it appear that a person just wanted to post a picture of themselves, and Denim Day provided an opportunity to do so without seeming narcissistic. These posts give off the impression that people are just pretending to care—making me feel alone rather than supported and put down rather than empowered. Why is it that I can’t even look at the posts that are supposedly there to express solidarity? How can people say that they’re fighting for survivors when their actions are triggering to the very people they’re trying to help? My trauma is not your justification to post a cute photo of yourself. Please, if you’re going to post about your participation, prioritize Denim Day’s message over your popularity on the platform and make sure your intentions are reflected by your behavior.
Sierra Burgon, a sophomore, is a staff writer for Stanford Politics.