Modesty, Femininity, and Finding Myself

I’d say I grew up being pretty modest in my style. It wasn’t anything extreme—I just never liked drawing the wrong kind of attention. Of course, there was a time when I tried to show a little more of "who I was" through my clothes, but deep down it never felt right.

I wasn’t always confident or attractive. I was the girl who got teased for having thick eyebrows and crooked teeth. I eventually learned to live with that. But there was also a season when I desperately wanted to look "older," like the girls who dressed like they were in their twenties or thirties—way ahead of me. Truthfully, I was never really good at style anyway. I just wore what I thought might make me look like someone else.

The other day, I went shopping with my mother-in-law. There was this one dress I liked, but she said, “It’ll age you,” so we moved on. A little later, I spotted a beautiful brown dress with delicate flowers and a flattering neckline. At first glance, it felt too revealing for my usual taste—but something about it spoke to me. I wanted to feel like a woman. I nervously asked her what she thought, expecting her to shut it down. But instead, she lit up and said, “Oh Ana, it is beautiful. You need to try this on.”

I was shocked. I tried it on, and she ended up buying it for me.

That moment stayed with me. It reminded me that modesty doesn’t mean hiding. For me, modesty means not seeking the wrong attention—but it also means not dimming your light out of fear. For too long, I convinced myself that if I embraced my femininity, I’d be judged or talked about. Maybe that’s the residue of growing up around people who stare you up and down in church before saying hello.

But the older I get, the more I realize… most people don’t care what you wear. And the people who do? They’re probably dealing with their own discomfort.

I’m a quarter century old now, and I’m finally starting to feel at peace in my own skin. I’m learning to own my feminine beauty—not in a way that screams for attention, but in a way that makes me feel like me.

To the woman who’s afraid to glow—to the girl hiding behind oversized clothes and second guesses—I see you. You don’t have to change who you are to be seen. But if there’s a dress that makes you feel like the woman you’re becoming, try it on. Step into it. You’re allowed to bloom.

Don’t let fear steal your softness, your spark, or your style. You don’t owe modesty to the world if it costs you your joy. You owe it to yourself to feel beautiful, powerful, and whole.

You were made to shine—don’t keep dimming the light just to make others comfortable.