Sexual Immodesty disguised as Fake Spiritual Liberation

In the modern spirituality movement, there's been a rise in voices proclaiming "liberation" through sensuality and nudity. It's often packaged as divine feminine expression, freedom from shame, and healing through embodiment. But we need to pause and ask, is all of this truly spiritual, or is some of it just a recycled form of hypersexuality, dressed in incense and affirmations?

I recently considered partnering with a fellow woman in the spiritual space. Her work focuses on movement-based empowerment for women, encouraging them to reclaim their bodies and energy. At first glance, it sounded beautiful. But something unsettled me. Her dancing and poses, though graceful on the surface, felt overly performative and, frankly, a bit vulgar. Curious but cautious, I muted her videos one day to simply observe without distraction. What I saw was a contradiction what was meant to uplift looked more like a desperate mimicry of society’s oversexualized ideals.

It wasn’t modest. It wasn’t sacred. It was simply exposure masquerading as empowerment.

Let me be clear: this is not about judgment. We’ve all made choices we later outgrow. I’m speaking from a place of growth and discernment. The body is a temple. When we begin to honor it that way, our expression changes too. Liberation doesn’t have to look like nudity or seduction. True spiritual liberation isn’t about removing your clothes; it’s about removing the chains fear, shame, trauma, codependency, self-doubt.

Take the difference between invoking admiration and invoking lust something rarely discussed but deeply relevant to this conversation. Sexuality is a beautiful gift, but it’s powerful and sacred, not something to be tossed around cheaply for attention.

Take, for example, the art of belly dancing. When done with poise and intention, it can be deeply admirable, an impressive display of control, rhythm, and connection to one's body. There's a grace in watching someone master the movement of their abdominal muscles with discipline and beauty. But when the same dance is performed with an overtly provocative intention, exaggerated to elicit sexual responses, it crosses a line. It stops being sacred art and starts becoming a performance for male approval.

This is where discernment comes in. When you're watching or engaging in a spiritual or expressive practice, ask yourself honestly: What is this trying to make me feel? Does it draw you toward admiration for the human form and the beauty of movement, or does it pull you into lust and fantasy? Is the expression rooted in spiritual grounding, or is it designed to trigger desire?

True spiritual women should never feel they have to awaken lust to be seen as powerful. That’s a trap. When we truly know our worth, our goal is not to seduce the world, but to inspire it to call it higher.

Being spiritually free doesn’t mean we mimic the culture’s obsession with sexual visibility. It means we operate from a higher vibration one where dignity, presence, and sacredness lead.

You can be sexy, radiant, powerful and still fully clothed. In fact, studies in psychology have long shown that the imagination is more potent when left some mystery. In a room full of undressed women, the one who carries herself with modesty often captivates more attention than those who reveal everything. Why? Because there’s power in restraint. There’s allure in knowing your worth and choosing not to perform for the gaze of others.

Modesty doesn’t mean shame. It means intention. It means understanding that your body is not a billboard for attention but a sanctuary for the Holy Spirit.

Over the past few decades, many women, especially in Western societies, have been subtly conditioned to believe that empowerment means embracing a lifestyle of exposure: wearing revealing clothing, entering relationships outside God’s design, and equating this “freedom” with progress. Yes, we do have the right to choose, but that doesn’t mean every choice honors our spirit or reflects who we truly are in God.

Femininity is sacred. It is not found in extremes but in balance. It is perfectly possible and powerful to be modest, expressive, stylish, and elegant without bowing to a culture of overexposure. When you’re a mother, even more so, your body becomes a temple that represents nurture, grace, and divine strength. Modesty does not mean being hidden or dull. It means being classy with how you carry yourself as a daughter of the King.

Think of the women in other parts of the world who for centuries wore vibrant, traditional garments; modest yet stunning, full of color and meaning. Their clothing reflected culture, identity, and beauty. But when they adopted a particular religion that required full-body coverings, sometimes leaving nothing but their eyes visible; these vibrant expressions were replaced with uniformity. That change didn’t make them holier. Just as being naked doesn’t liberate your soul, being covered head to toe doesn’t necessarily draw you closer to God either.

God doesn’t look at your hemline, He looks at your heart. Dressing with dignity and intention is not about legalism. It’s about knowing your worth and reflecting that in all you do. Obviously though, this doesn’t mean you should have your hemline rising above your derrière.

Another example that comes to mind is a trend I saw not too long ago, young girls were being encouraged to take pole dancing classes, reframed as a form of fitness or sport. Now, let’s be honest: pole dancing does require strength, coordination, and flexibility. But historically and culturally, it has been rooted in the adult entertainment industry, especially in association with stripping. No matter how much we rebrand it, that core association hasn’t disappeared.

As a mother and a woman who values spiritual grounding, I ask: Is this really the direction we want to guide our daughters in, when there are other beautiful, strength-building options like gymnastics, dance, martial arts, or traditional forms of movement that align more naturally with innocence, grace, and modesty?

I’m not here to shame anyone. I’m simply saying: just because the culture offers it, doesn’t mean it honors the spirit. Not everything labeled “empowering” is truly empowering in the spiritual sense. We’ve got to be discerning. As parents, guardians, and mothers, we’re shaping more than bodies, we’re shaping souls.

Let us teach this to our daughters and model it for our sons: liberation is not in removing your clothes, but in removing your need for external validation. True spiritual women don’t need to exploit their sensuality to feel seen. They radiate from within and that glow can’t be faked.