We live in a society that undeniably tells women that it’s not our job to be smart or inventive, that it’s not our job to be strong or independent, that it’s not our job to be funny or quick-witted.

But that it’s our job to be pretty.

Growing up, the central compliment I would hear was never “you’re so smart” when I made an A on a test, or “you’re so tenacious” when I stood up for myself to the mean boy in class. But I always heard “you’re just so pretty” when I had to wear an itchy dress for church or another event. I grew up watching TV shows that taught me that boys didn’t like smart girls or strong girls, and that when a boy is mean to you, it's only because he thinks you’re pretty. I played with Barbies that engrained in my mind how you’re supposed to look. And I dressed up as princesses, not because princesses are powerful, but because princesses are supposed to be pretty. I grew up unknowingly believing that my sole purpose was to be found physically desirable, and yes, I bought it for a while.

I started caring a little bit more about my unkempt hair and boyish clothes.

When I was a few years older, I noticed girls coming into class with cheap makeup on their faces, except this time it wasn’t for dress up, and the boys would talk to them more. So I started wearing makeup, not because I wanted to, but because I thought it would make people like me. The cheerleaders and pageant girls became the ideal girls with a different “boyfriend” every week, not the soccer or softball players. It wasn’t “pretty” to be smart, so when I got my tests back I would automatically flip them over and tell people I made a C. I started buying "Seventeen" magazine and they told me what pretty was. And it wasn’t what I looked like.

I started to wear more makeup and tighter clothes. And more and more people started calling me pretty.

Then I got to high school and realized that there were many different ideas about what “pretty” meant. Some people thought caked-on makeup and fixed hair was pretty. Some people thought no makeup with natural hair was pretty. Skinny was pretty. Curvy was pretty. Pale was pretty. Tan was pretty. Brunette was pretty. Blond was pretty. And we girls conformed to our own idea of what pretty was or what our boyfriends thought pretty was. To high school’s credit, progress was made and it was good to be bright or good to be athletic or good to be funny, but still, no one paid much attention to those things if you weren’t pretty. Homecoming court was about who was prettiest. Prom was about who was prettiest.

And I lost who I was on the inside because of who I was striving to be on the outside.

There was one day in particular when I realized that this compliment I had been competing to get my whole life wasn’t a compliment at all, because getting it meant that I had put aspects of myself that were unique and special to who I am on the back burner. When I got a Calculus test back that I bombed, the comment made to me was, “Well, at least you’re pretty,” as if being pretty is going to get me anywhere in life. And that’s when I started thinking — a very dangerous thing for a woman to do.

Girls place their entire value in one word: pretty.

Girls base relationships off of what boys think they’re pretty.

Girls give up being smart to be pretty.

Girls change their quirks or flaws to be found pretty.

Girls buy thousands of dollars worth of makeup and clothes to be pretty.

Girls break and reshape their bodies to be pretty.

Girls slit their wrists when they don’t look like the girls magazines who are pretty.

Girls starve themselves to be pretty.

Girls kill themselves because they believe they’re not pretty.

And that’s when I realized that being "pretty" is pretty ugly.

We need to stop communicating to our young girls that the most important thing in this life is appearance. If they want to go out in tangled hair and a ratty T-shirt, let them. If they don’t want to wear makeup, don’t make them.

Rather, we have to tell our girls to be pretty clever and pretty brilliant. Pretty loving and pretty compassionate. Pretty determined and pretty tough. We need to show them how to be pretty free-spirited and pretty joyful. Pretty genuine and pretty forgiving.

We need to inspire them to be pretty fun and pretty entertaining. Pretty confident and pretty bold. Pretty adventurous and pretty brave. Because no young girl should ever have to grow up limiting herself to six letters.

And neither should we.