A few days ago, we met in a brief introduction. I gave you my name you gave me yours, and before anything else you looked at me up and down and told me I looked so pretty.
It’s a compliment and I appreciate it. It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, my heart glowed and I wanted to let my ugly-duckling-12-year-old-self know, hey, it’s all going to be okay! Before I go any further, I want to say thank you, I truly appreciate it, but I won’t be returning the compliment.
I will admit, I took a moment to bask in it. Who doesn’t like to be given society’s ultimate compliment? But then, I began thinking about it, and for the first time in my life I felt sadness after having been told I was attractive.
Photo shopped, stick thin women with 10 pounds of makeup on posing for their 100th photo of the day flood social media. The Victoria’s Secret models who dedicate their life to becoming the definition of beautiful walked down the runway with all of America screeching with glee just last week. My phone is filled with thousands of pictures of myself as I continue the journey to the perfect profile picture, but why? What does beauty really do for myself or anyone?
In this country, a woman’s self-worth is often built entirely on attractiveness. Society tells us what pretty is and we do our absolute best to encompass it. We buy the makeup, we squeeze into those small sizes, spend our money on fad diets, and spend days at the hair salon making sure each hair is in place, but it’s holding us back.
How much time have we lost over the years with the battle to beauty? How many laughs have we missed because we were busy curling our hair? How many pieces of cake have we missed out on every time we were trying to lose just one more pound? How many jobs have we lost because we didn’t put makeup on for an interview?
I am intelligent, I’m great at making people laugh through particularly ugly photos on snap chat, I have worked my ass off to become a doula, have kept a job during college that involves more than flipping burgers, and have managed to keep a shiny, 3.34 GPA in college. I don’t need makeup or long flowing hair to do any of those things. Regardless, being told I’m pretty feels better than a compliment about any of those things would, and that is so sad.
We like to tell each other that looks don’t matter and that what’s on the inside is what counts, but we all know that’s not really what we believe. We have all been that person staring across the room at someone else because they just look so good, we all know what it’s like to value someone’s attractiveness, but why is it that we value attractiveness above all else? Why would I rather be called beautiful than intelligent?
I think they’re tricking us with all of this. Keeping us in the bathroom doing our makeup while men go out there and conquer the world, but I’m done with that, and I’m ready to conquer.
So, to my new found friend, I won’t be returning the compliment. It’s not that you are not pretty, it’s just that I’m sure you’re so much more than that. I’m sure you’re intelligent and funny and have some quirky hidden talent that no one knows about. You’re probably working your ass off to graduate high school and get into a good college and I’m sure you’re doing amazing at it. You’re pretty too, you are, but please don’t let anyone tell you beauty matters most, and please don’t let yourself believe that either.
