Walking through the brickyard during my first few weeks of class my freshman year, I was exposed to many things that my small private school did not prepare me for. Skateboarders whizzing by, I noticed a large group gathering around a man yelling about the Bible. As a Christian, this peaked my interest. I wondered what this man was preaching about that would prompt 50 college students to stop and listen.

When my roommate and I approached the preacher, rather than hearing positive things about the word of the Lord, we instead heard a man spiting any action that he deemed “unholy.” One thing he said particularly stuck with me. He claimed, “If a woman is wearing shorts or revealing her shoulders, she is a whore. She cannot be trusted.” Now I, a then 18-year-old female Christian, took issue with this. I decided to say something. I was wearing a go-to outfit for walking across campus in 95-degree weather: Nike shorts, tennis shoes, and a t-shirt. With my head held high and my legs on display I said, “So you’re saying I’m a whore since I’m wearing shorts?” To which he responded, “Probably.” On a hot summer day in August this adult man called me a whore for wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

At this point lots of offended people continued arguing with this irrational man who was deemed the Brickyard Preacher, but after a few more derogatory assumptions and remarks, I walked back to my dorm disgusted with the messages this man was sharing. Disgusted at the hate he was spreading while still claiming he was a Christian. It was not right for him to pass judgements on a bunch of impressionable, young adults, and listening to his rants was ultimately a waste of my time.

I refuse to let a stranger label me based on the clothing I wear. Especially not a middle-aged man who has nothing better to do than insult college students. Because ultimately that is what he was doing. He was not spreading God’s word. He was not encouraging people to better themselves. He was being cruel and telling people they were going to Hell. Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to Hell for wearing Nike shorts.

This man who challenged my character was not the first Brickyard Preacher, and he certainly won't be the last. I’ve noticed crowds gather here and there, and seen posts on Twitter about more absurdity Brickyard Preachers have exclaimed. Two years later, I found myself in the same brickyard listening to the same sort of hate spewing from the lips of a man claiming to be better than us—a man using the word "Christianity" to somehow validate his hatefulness. This time, instead of stopping to listen, I kept walking; however, I still managed to hear him say “If you vote for Hilary Clinton, you’re going to Hell.” I am no preacher, but I am a Christian, and a man cannot tell you whether or not you're going to Hell. That is not up to him.

So, the next time you find yourself walking through the brickyard while a preacher is out there trying to judge everyone passing by, keep walking. The less we encourage the Brickyard Preachers of the world, the less we have to deal with their absurdity.