Hey,
Is being ‘pretty’ something you aspire to?
What a vapid question, right?
It’s something I’ve been told all my life that I must be, though: pretty. Did I make every effort to adhere, base my self worth for years on the size of my waist and the male-gaze? Of course.
As a girl, ‘pretty’ was an honour to be bestowed. Very early on in life I was made aware of the privileges that came with being desirable. Desirability was a virtue; hammered into my psyche over and over by family, friends, by the books I read, tv shows / films I watched -
It feels like a superficial question to ask - do you aspire to be pretty - but, well… do you? And if your first instinct is ‘no’, then, I have to be annoying and ask why you still keep a drawer of make up and a cabinet of skincare? (i know….)
After spending some time in Seoul (also known in some circles as the plastic surgery capital of the world), I’m wondering if vanity isn’t just … what is to be expected -
expected more so of women and girls, expected of us from our mothers and fathers alike. Because in a world where the dial is still ever so slightly turned in favour of men, a woman’s sexuality, the measure of her appeal to him, remains one of her core levers of power, and protection.
In Seoul I spent 5 painstaking hours in a beauty clinic letting doctors and nurses poke and prod at me with all manner of machines & needles. And I do mean the //pain// in painstaking:
During a particularly excruciating treatment I started questioning hard what it was all for,
What does pretty even mean? And do I care that much about it anymore?
The Politics of Pretty: Collated Notes
Pretty, and female friendships
Pretty, but only on their terms
Sofia Coppola: The Politics of Pretty
Her films, characteristically full of girlish, coquettish, picturesque visuals, have been criticised as ‘vacuous’, pretty for no reason, devoid of [masculine] substance -
Pretty as social currency & power
The Ugly Laws - in 1881 Chicago, it was illegal to show yourself in public if you were deemed “unsightly”
Final thoughts
Today, maybe for the first time in my life, I feel firm enough in my own skin, in who I am with all my strengths and flaws, to know that I am so much more than my outward shell.
I find myself looking at the women around me, and I think, always, wow - she is so beautiful. And she is not some size 2, long-legged gazelle (well, not always, and the size 2 long-legged gazelles out there are still magnificent). In fact, I never ever notice in another woman the attributes that I pay such keen attention to in myself. I don’t think about the size of her waist, the clearness of her skin, her sense of dress.
For so many years, Why was I holding myself to a standard I would never subject another to? The love, appreciation and grace I offered so freely to another, I never thought to extend to myself.
I ask myself often - if you look in the mirror today and you saw someone with a little extra fat on her bones, whose skin was spotted and uneven, hair choppy and rough - would you still accept her, still thought she was pretty and worthy of holding space?
For the longest time an honest answer was no. For the longest time, punishment and hatred, and disgust was what I hurled at her reflection.
Today, that’s not even a question. Thank God.
The Dandelion Tiger is a weekly column that began during a period of searching, when I was looking for a voice that resonated, that perhaps shared some of my questions, thoughts and experiences. I hope that you’ve found some of that connection here, and that this latest piece has given you some food for thought.
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As always, hope your weekend has been restful restful restful.
I think this is such an interesting topic. As a woman, it’s almost unspoken that yes, I do want to be pretty. But then you have to think about what pretty means to society, to you, to those you love, etc … could talk about this for ages!
When I was young, I thought pretty meant looking like the others girls. Now that I am in my late 30s, pretty means being yourself, accepting yourself. Never felt prettier than today.