Can women even dress for Halloween?
Policing women’s bodies is the real horror this spooky season
Remember when Halloween felt uncomplicated? A quick pair of cat ears, drawn eyeliner from a friend, and you’re done. Alternatively, a full commitment was another option: theatrical amounts of fake blood, elaborate wigs, even fishnets. No matter what happened, a picture always surfaced. Instagram would light up, then you’d face the music the following day, feeling either satisfied or just mildly embarrassed. That was part of the fun.
But, today, a woman’s Halloween costume seems to invite unwanted opinions, no matter the costume. You choose a playful costume—say, a nurse, or a vampire—and some will claim you’re simply catering to the male gaze. People online might suggest you’re diminishing yourself, imposing unfair ideas about womanhood, or overdoing it. However, opt for something comically silly instead—like the Lorax or Shrek or a hot dog, something that is extremely hard to sexualize and is generally considered to be purely hilarious—and you’ll have to prepare yourself for accusations of striving to distance yourself from other women. Accused to, you guessed it, cater to the male gaze (again).
It seems then the harmless enjoyment of Halloween has quickly become a statement. There’s this unseen scorecard floating around, it seems; people quietly judging Halloween outfits worn by women. It feels like an unspoken competition to see who gets approval based on what they wear. Sexy cop? Too revealing. Pizza suit? Pick-me energy. Halloween on social platforms just amplifies the drama.
Each year, platforms like X turn into argument zones; people dissecting celebrity costumes, TikTok videos categorizing partygoers, and comment threads overflowing with self-procclaimed costume experts. The irony? A lot of the complaints and judgements come from fellow women. Spaces promising the freedom to be yourself and acceptance starting from within becomes critical if how you show up isn’t “quite right.” They champion boldness yet judge anything outside their idea of it. It started with criticizing women for their sexuality, now it’s berating them for trying not to be sexualized—however, both approaches boil down to policing what women do with their bodies and lives.
Halloween is that single night offering a chance to inhibit another persona. Become a champion, someone famous, a viral joke, a creature from nightmares, even an oddly alluring item. Consider the fact that a “sexy corn-on-the-cob” outfit exists. And while the choice of costume remains unclear to me, I respect it.
For many women, Halloween has always been a chance to experiment: try on different “selves,” crack jokes, or simply claim their desires of freedom, away from social expectations. These are moments where sheer silliness feels freeing, to deliberately choose an outfit that clashes with norms and routine. It’s a statement; women aren’t here to please anyone’s sense of style. But, it feels like there will always be a catch: being able to choose what to wear and still facing criticism for it.
Calling outfits “showy” or “fake” just continues the old habit of telling women what to do with their bodies; a practice originally challenged by feminist movements. The issue doesn’t lie within clothing choices, but rather a society preoccupied with controlling female expression.
Today, people argue over what counts as true female empowerment. Does showing skin feel liberating, or does it reinforce expectations? Conversely, is modest dressing a way to take charge, or succumb to societal pressures? Honestly, the queries are off base. What matters more is figuring out our compulsion to evaluate what women decide. October’s festivities shouldn’t demand deep thought. Instead, it is meant for fun, treats, and fake gore. Costumes aren’t always supposed to be statements, but they’ve come limited to just that.
Today, simply having good ideas or being original isn’t sufficient. Women are expected to embody feminist ideas flawlessly. A revealing outfit draws criticism for upholding outdated power structures, yet an unconventional one risks accusations of seeking male approval through differentiation. Essentially, there appears to be no winning choices, even when viewed through a lens of playful self-awareness.
It’s not the costumes; it’s who calls the shots. Not a spooky season story, more like a power play. For ages, people have felt free to comment on women’s appearances, specifically on what they wear. From schools dictating clothes to offices setting rules, even at celebrations, somebody always has an opinion about what’s fitting (and it’s usually a man). It’s a familiar pattern; a teen gets dress-coded at school because her clothes are deemed disruptive, then faces similar judgments about her posts online when she shares a picture.
Essentially, both situations assume one thing: your appearance doesn’t belong to you. Ridiculously, a guy can storm into a party practically naked under a skin-tight outfit and receive claps, positive chants and even praise. Yet, if a woman were to sport a twenty-five dollar costume from a pop-up store, she is subject to judgement.
Perhaps truly owning your choices this October 31st means letting go. Donning what sparks joy, even if it’s “a bit much.” Embrace the awkwardness. Feel the burn. Women can be many things at once. They might be alluring,witty, and even striking, while also being playfully detached. Sometimes you might feel like sparkling darkness, other times a huge yellow fruit. Neither option defines how completely you are a woman.
October 31st offers a chance to become someone, or something, you aren’t on the daily. If anyone criticizes your Halloween look—says it’s overdone or attention-seeking —consider this: they’re operating under the assumption that a woman’s self-expression needs approval. And that’s the real horror.
