IYH Representing Substack at the United Nations: Modesty, Elon Musk, and Me

Fiction

Español : IYH Representando al Substack en las Naciones Unidas: La Modestia, Elon Musk, y yo

The United Nations had finally turned its attention to something truly controversial: defining modesty. As a woman of faith and a reluctant, sort-of feminist,¹ I somehow found myself representing Substack at what the UN modestly called "the most ambitious international conference ever": Global Standards of Modesty: A Path Forward. ² How did this happen? Well, let's just say the other bloggers practically shoved me onto the plane. "You'll be perfect," they said. "Just please, stay away from irrelevant Nebuchadnezzar tangents!"

The event kicked off with a beautiful actress draped in $10,000 worth of designer clothing taking the podium. I couldn't tell you her name, because I don't watch movies³ or TV, but everyone else seemed to recognize her. "We must liberate women from oppressive dress codes," she declared, gracefully adjusting her Hermès scarf. Behind her, a row of female CEOs in business suits nodded seriously, apparently missing the irony.⁴

Despite my best intentions to stay quiet and observe, my passionate (and sometimes argumentative) nature got the better of me. I couldn't help jumping into the fray. My hand shot up, and to my surprise, they actually passed me the microphone. "Perhaps," I ventured, "we should discuss how modesty is about dignity and boundaries, not just clothing?"

Meanwhile, on the dais, the Turkish delegate was already launching into an impassioned speech about the Ottoman Empire's approach to modesty. He concluded triumphantly: "...and that's why every serious discussion of modesty must begin and end with Türkiye."

"Actually," I interrupted, still holding the microphone, "Jewish modesty laws have been around longer than ..." but my microphone was rapidly cut off.

The Saudi delegate was up next. My microphone clicked back on. I hoped he'd forgive my interruption. "Excuse me," I said, still clutching the microphone, "but we're missing the point. Look around this room. Our most 'liberated' delegates are dressed conservatively because they want to be taken seriously."

A pink-haired Swedish professor of gender studies, dressed head-to-toe in black, rose from her seat. "This entire framework is problematic," she declared, adjusting her ethically-sourced linen blazer. "In Sweden, we've moved beyond binary concepts of modest versus immodest. The real question is who profits from controlling women's bodies—whether through forced exposure or, conversely, forced covering."⁵

"But what about dress codes?" I pressed. "Even progressive institutions have them."

The Swedish professor's lips tightened. "That's different. Professional dress codes are about power structures, not modesty." Several male delegates shifted uncomfortably in their designer suits, suddenly very interested in their phones.

I jotted down her words, struck by how she'd inadvertently made the case for modesty while arguing against it. I appreciated the irony of the room full of people all conforming to their own rigid dress codes and cultural expectations. From the tech billionaire's carefully casual attire to the diplomats' power suits, every person present was participating in some form of formalized modesty culture, whether they acknowledged it or not.

The Saudi delegate was ready for his turn, prepared with a PowerPoint presentation titled "How Wanting Attention Destroyed Civilization." His first slide juxtaposed dancing influencers with intricate Islamic calligraphy. "We've replaced dignity with displays," he declared, advancing to a graph showing the inverse relationship between Instagram filters and moral decay. I found myself nodding—he wasn't entirely wrong.

As the debate grew more heated, with delegates accusing each other of cultural imperialism, a quiet voice cut through the chaos. Rebbetzin Fastag had arrived, and something in her demeanor made everyone fall silent. I straightened in my seat, knowing her wisdom might be exactly what this fractured gathering needed.

Rebbetzin Fastag stood up, and the room fell silent. "We must understand the distinction between purity and holiness," she began. "As the Tiferes Shlomo of Radomsk teaches, holiness means never having contacted spiritual impurity, while purity is achieved through cleansing after such contact. Some explain that purity means distancing oneself from physical indulgence, while holiness means elevating the physical world entirely for G-d's sake, which is even more challenging than mere separation."

She paused, letting her words sink in. "Modesty isn't just about restrictions. It's about the profound difference between avoiding the physical and sanctifying it. Purity is about boundaries, and holiness is about purpose." She smiled at the Swedish professor. "The boundaries exist to protect something precious within."

As I absorbed her words, an image formed in my mind: a walled garden. Not a prison, but a sanctuary; a protected ecosystem where rare and endangered flowers could flourish without being trampled. Modesty is not meant to hide its beauty, but to protect what is inside. Within those boundaries, something precious has the opportunity to take root: dignity, self-respect, purpose. Without them, we're defenseless against every passing storm.

As if to prove this point about the importance of boundaries, the doors burst open. Elon Musk had arrived, and with him came the storm.⁶

Within minutes, #ModestyUN was trending on X.⁷ The Japanese delegate hurriedly drafted an emergency resolution titled "Mars Is Not Relevant to This Discussion," while the Polynesian representative maintained the only truly modest behavior in the room: diplomatic silence. The reporter next to me typed a headline: "Humanity Still Fighting About Clothes (Also, Elon Musk Was Here!)"

As Elon's tweets multiplied and the excitement escalated around me, I quietly gathered my notes and slipped away from the chaos.

You will need to click "View Pictures" in your email to see the image of Musk's tweets.

I smiled, thinking of a song I wrote long ago, about modesty.⁸ I thought about how modest dress often creates more freedom, not less. A modestly dressed woman can move through public spaces, engage in business, and participate in community life precisely because she's defined her own boundaries.

What matters is understanding that modesty, at its core, isn't about hiding—it's about creating sacred spaces where dignity can flourish. Despite our differences, every delegate in that room was trying to protect something precious, whether they called it dignity, autonomy, or spiritual connection.

I'd love to hear your thoughts:

• What sacred spaces have you created in your life, and how do you protect them?

• How do you balance self-expression with boundaries?

• Can modesty exist in a world obsessed with visibility?

  Let me know in the comments!

1. I'm the good kind of sort of feminist, not the bad kind.

2. Because if there's one thing the UN is known for, it's the ability to solve complex cultural issues in a single conference.

3.

4. All wearing the exact same height of high heels!

5. It should go without saying that I condemn the objectification of women, but ignoring biological and cultural realities around sexual attraction creates its own problems. Our culture has rejected modesty by name while quietly maintaining it through other means—"professional dress," "appropriate attire," "situation-appropriate clothing." Even those who reject traditional modesty still seek ways to protect themselves from exploitation.

6. Rebbetzin Fastag told me this in the name of the Tiferes Shlomo of Radomsk.

7. Formerly Twitter

8. Yes, really. And no, you can't hear it. But you can read it here on my Substack.