I'm feeling pretty good about myself these days.
A not-small portion of that is, of course, due to finally landing gainful employment. You really have no idea how much of your self-esteem is tied up with earning an income until you're suddenly not able to earn an income, y'know?!
But it's also due to an overall comfort level within myself at the moment. Things are just... comfortable in my skin. Which is hilarious if you know me because I was once voted least likely to be comfortable with anything. Ever.
In an online freethinking mom's group I belong to, there was a call for no-makeup pictures. A come-as-you-are photo documentary of sorts, meant to celebrate the beauty of our lives lived in our faces. The result was breathtakingly and beautifully honest. Not just in the bravery it takes to look into your webcam and let it represent you in all its unflattering pixels, but in the supportive, eloquent, touching comments left on each picture.
It was, quite simply, amazeballs. I was blown away.
So I did it on my own page, thusly:
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Okay, so this is something that was started in the mom's group I belong to, but I think it's so important I'm going to do it here, too. This is me. First thing in the morning, no make up, no hair brushing, not dressed, still in bed. (I have, however, had coffee, which is why my eyes are open.) And you know what? I feel beautiful. Sleep is my friend and I've just had a lot of it. All my dogs are curled up around my legs. There has been no stress so far, and the day is full of promise. Plus, my husband made me waffles! Being a woman is the very definition of being image-conscious. Or maybe it's vice verse. Whatever. Point is - when I was younger I used to HATE people saying, "Oh, beauty is how you *feel*!" Shut up. Easy for you to say with your flawless skin and button nose and size 2 jeans. But honestly, I get it now. In this picture I am so at peace with myself and that's freaking beautiful. My challenge to you: post a picture of yourself when you FEEL beautiful. If you're all made up, that's okay, but pause for a moment and think about why that is. Why do you feel most beautiful when you're conforming to modern image norms? Maybe you felt most beautiful when you were lying in the hospital bed, a sweaty mess, with your newborn tucked up beside you. Or when your partner surprised you with an ice cream cone to the face and you were just having the BEST time... I want to see it. I want to see you being beautiful to you. :)
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I was so pleased with the picture and the sentiment, that I made the post public and have left it up as my profile picture. I even got a few comments in response but nobody took me up on the idea of posting a new picture of themselves. (One friend pointed to an old picture, but that was it.)
Since then, the same mom's group went the other direction (in fun) and several people posted their most alluring photos, some scantily clad, some not clad at all! But all in which they felt beautiful. I thought that was also amazeballs.
Interestingly, not everyone agreed. Only one person (and her sock puppets) trolled (and was consequently banned), but there were a lot of women who felt uncomfortable with that level of exhibitionism. Conversely, there was a lot of defensiveness and push-back from the women who supported body-positive imagery and corresponding defensiveness from the original, not-okay-with-this party. A whole lotta defensiveness, to be honest.
And it occurred to me that the defensiveness is probably why my personal post was largely ignored. Women have to protect themselves. All the time. From the judgement of society. Why? Because historically, they have been powerless in the face of that judgement if it turns against them. We may have unprecedented legal rights in this country (historically and comparatively speaking only), but the fear of ostracizing is still a profound and legitimate one.
{There is a wealth of information on this topic all over the internet and in your local library and I'm not going to try and educate anyone in this post. I just want to share my perspective and I'm going forward on the assumption that you already accept this gender-related fear statement to be true and accurate. If you don't, that's a different conversation.}
Being comfortable in my own skin didn't just magically happen overnight. It's been a long and arduous process that has required taking a look at my own prejudices, which is a really shitty task. Nobody likes to do it and mostly we don't, so it's remarkable anytime somebody tries. ::pats self on back::
Since prejudices are learned, I had to go back pretty far to identify mine. I was raised in a familial culture that put a premium on physical appearance. Specifically, that physical appearance adhering to a narrow, idealized portrait of popular American femininity. For example, I was shamed for biting my nails and praised for coloring my hair. In lock-step with this education was a strong admonishment to be "appropriate" and not tip so far into the made up side that I veered into "inappropriate" territory.
I now know that "inappropriate" is synonymous with "slut-shaming", but that wasn't communicated to me directly.
Also simultaneously with this beauty education was the relief from it - that is to say, day to day occasions of play time or school that had no image requirements and where jeans and a t-shirt were practically my uniform. But there was a strong emphasis placed on looking "appropriate" for the "appropriate" occasion.
That's not all bad. There are times when you want to fit in to the cultural norm; when it's neither necessary nor desirable to stand out and having the knowledge to allow you to blend in is a good thing. Not wearing tennis shoes to a black tie event is a good piece of advice to follow.
But for me, it went deeper than that. There was a shame involved in not conforming to those cultural norms when people could see me (i.e., judge me) that was greatly influenced by the attitudes of the women in my family. Make up was standard, as though there was something wrong with our faces and they had to be covered up. Staying skinny was the only option in a world where fat is disgusting and loathsome. I don't mean "a world" as in modern society - I mean our personal world made up of people who loved us.
By the time I got to junior high, that age where girls try on different versions of adulthood and struggle to find their own identity, I was regularly slut-shamed by my peers for trying to adhere to the glamorous "norm" that I thought was the feminine ideal. My response to this societal pressure was to increase my efforts to be as "beautiful" as I could because even at 13 my attitude was pretty much "fuck you and the horse you rode in on."
But the seed was planted and I spent the next couple of decades conflating beauty and normality with desirability and sexuality. Boy, was that stupid.
I'm not special. Women everywhere have to deal with this all the time. And quite honestly, I had it easier than most for a couple of reasons. One, I was clever and strong enough to realize that nothing is true 100% of the time and two, I was lucky enough to be born with genetics that already made me a close fit to that popular ideal. Also, I like falling back into that comfort zone of cultural norms. My ideas of beauty are still integrated with those popular images, and the idea of accenting my features still appeals to me. Also, it gives me a shielding of sorts from the random judgement of the public. We don't call it "war paint" for nothin'!
But the difference between then-me and now-me is that I recognize that beauty is so much bigger than the strict image I was brought up with. To me, beauty is strength, even when it's represented by wrinkles and/or stretch marks. Or by a refusal to adhere to those cultural norms. Beauty is confidence in your inner self, a belief that being deserving or desirable is a result of your honor, not your appearance. I am as close to that belief as I have ever been, and feel it keenly in the early morning between waking from a good sleep and facing the outside influences that try to contradict it. Hence, the picture.
Sometimes I feel beautiful when I also happen to be made up and glamorous, but at this point in my life, that's more a coincidence than a consequence. And I'm so proud of that.