I recently met a friend for coffee and she showed me an email she received as a resident of a gated community in Dubai, where she lives with her family.
It was a polite reminder about dressing modestly in shared outdoor spaces: no transparent clothing, no offensive slogans, cover shoulders and knees, and reserve swimwear strictly for the pool or beach and no nudity poolside. It was respectful in tone, but still unmistakably a directive: please be mindful of how you dress in public.
This wasn’t the first time I’ve seen such notices. There are some outside many of Dubai’s shopping malls for instance. But it did spark a deeper question: why is there a continued need to remind people of what is “appropriate” in a country such as the UAE? And perhaps more importantly, why is the meaning of appropriateness no longer clear?
The UAE is one of the most diverse societies in the world. It is home to more than 200 nationalities, and it has done an exceptional job in balancing openness with the preservation of its identity. People from almost every continent live here, some temporarily, some for decades. People raise families and build lives here.
This diversity is a part of what makes the UAE remarkable. But such diversity also brings the challenge of dealing with very different cultural reference points. What is “appropriate” or “modest” is no longer universally understood.
One reason for this, I believe, is the global shift in fashion norms. What was once considered “beachwear” is now worn to cafes and shopping malls. Garments that used to be reserved for private or athletic spaces are now mainstream streetwear.
Often clothes are designed to be revealing and expressive – and this is true across cultures, not just in the west. Young people everywhere, regardless of background or religion, dress differently than people did 20 years ago.
At the same time, the words “modesty” and “appropriateness” remain subjective. For someone with a conservative upbringing, short shorts in a public space might seem shocking; for someone from a cosmopolitan background, it may be normal. These perspectives often collide in the country’s shared spaces. When people unfamiliar with the cultural and religious values of the UAE arrive – sometimes for the first time – they may not even realise that they’re violating unspoken norms.
That raises a critical question: is it fair to assume that everyone knows how to behave or dress respectfully in a new environment? Or do we need to do more to help people understand – not through imposition, but through gentle guidance?
The UAE, notably, has never taken a heavy-handed approach to this issue. The country’s success lies in its moderation. It does not enforce rigid public dress codes. There are no fines for uncovered shoulders or short skirts in most spaces. This level of trust and flexibility is admirable and rare in the region. But perhaps because people are not regularly reminded, many assume there are no boundaries at all.
In other parts of the Middle East and the wider Islamic world, we see varied approaches. In Saudi Arabia, public dress codes – particularly for women – have relaxed considerably in recent years.
In places such as Qatar or Oman, public modesty is still encouraged, but the expectation is more social than legal. Jordan and Turkey present a different model, where religious identity and state governance have a clearer separation. These countries have more secular public spheres, but even they maintain strong social expectations, particularly in family-oriented spaces.
By contrast, western societies tend to rely almost entirely on informal norms. Dress codes exist, but they're often unstated and apply only in specific contexts – workplaces, restaurants and religious institutions. People are unlikely to wear beachwear to a business meeting, but they’re also unlikely to be told not to dress like that to a public park. There is no formal need to remind people – because the social fabric is built around personal autonomy and the clear separation of religion and state.
In the UAE, culture, religion and society are more intertwined. Here, modesty is a religious concept and part of the national ethos. And that is not something you can always read in a tourism brochure or on a sign. It requires an attuned awareness of your environment.
This leads to a more nuanced question: What does it mean to truly belong to a place, not just live in it? Fitting in doesn't mean abandoning your identity or suppressing your self-expression.
But it does require understanding the social parameters around you. As someone who was born and raised in the UAE, I’ve always seen this understanding as a kind of mutual respect. We learn to read the room, so to speak, and adjust accordingly, not because we’re being told to, but because it’s part of participating in society.
To the UAE’s credit, I’ve rarely seen Emiratis or other Arabs react negatively or rudely towards people who dress in ways that diverge from cultural expectations. In fact, the restraint and tolerance shown in most public spaces is remarkable. People co-exist without confrontation. No one stares or makes others feel uncomfortable. And that says a lot about the country’s values. But it also underscores how important it is that we not take that tolerance for granted.
The goal shouldn’t be to police what people wear. Instead, we need to create greater cultural fluency. Perhaps more communities can adopt creative ways to raise awareness, through visual guides, light-hearted campaigns, or orientation materials for newcomers. Schools, malls, and even airlines can play a role in sensitively sharing what is expected in family-friendly areas.
The idea is not to limit people, but to help them thrive in the environment they’ve chosen to be part of. It’s about recognising that the UAE’s openness is built on a delicate social contract – one that requires all of us to contribute to a respectful, thoughtful and inclusive public space.
Modesty, in my opinion, is not only about how much skin you show. It is fundamentally about self-awareness. It’s about understanding something that feels normal to you might feel disrespectful to someone else. And in a country like the UAE, where difference is embraced but identity is protected, that awareness is a courtesy, but it is also a responsibility.
