On the last day of Starlight Christian Summer Camp, we put on a modesty fashion show. We gathered the girls into the main lodge and pulled out plastic bins of clothing donated by mothers, aunts, and older cousins of Christian campers past. The girls turned their backs to each other before taking off their sandy shorts and T-shirts and slipping into straight-cut Easter dresses, long accordion skirts with buttoned cardigans, and flowy maxi dresses that actually had sleeves. We wanted the girls to know that modesty didn't have to mean frumpy. Modesty was style and class. The girls were twelve and thirteen and fourteen. Their arms were toned from dipping canoe paddles through lake water and practicing their overhand serve on the volleyball court. The bridges of their noses were reddened and flaky from swimming to the sandbar in the heat of the day. We wanted them to know they were beautiful. They had beautiful legs and arms and stomachs and breasts, and they had to think of our brothers in Christ. We told them about good Christian guys like our really good guy friend, Matthew, who said he was always plagued by sexual thoughts when a girl walked past him in yoga pants. We told the girls to have fun with their outfits—throw on a colorful scarf or a headband. Modesty wasn't about covering our bodies. It was about revealing our dignity. We dotted blush on the apples of their cheeks and combed back their sun-streaked hair. Let your beauty shine from within, we told them. We painted their nails in the colors "sunset soiree," "the fuchsia is bright," and "pin me pink." Modesty didn't mean you forgot where to find the eyelash curler or a decent moisturizing shampoo. We taught them to sit with their legs together and to be mindful of not bending over and all the other little tips we picked up through age and experience. Once every thigh and shoulder was covered and every neckline was two inches above their chests, we yelled "good luck, chicas!" and the girls left our cabin to walk down the makeshift runway for their families. Some of them strutted and posed, their friends hooting. They blushed when their mothers took pictures on their iPhones. We hugged all the girls before they drove away, smearing kisses over their dimpled cheeks. By the end of camp, we were like big sisters to them. We sent them off to do what they were going to do.

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