Whenever I think about it, I feel that sinking sensation. The battle, seemingly never-ending, that women face along the journey of unearthing and standing free in our own beauty. The very subjectivity of beauty is enough in itself. And, though there are countless varying opinions as to what beauty is, I’m sure we all have had similar experiences along our paths of discovering it within ourselves. For ourselves. Because, that’s the thing... A major part of our learning to stand firm and free in our beauty and bodies overall is the battle against ugliness that is not our own.
We are constantly under scrutiny. By others and ourselves. My introduction to the conscious awareness of my physical appearance was not on my own terms. One of my earliest memories was based on the foundation of representation. Early mornings that consisted of a spoonful of cod liver oil, morning prayer, and before I could even think about heading out the door; a quick head-to-toe scan so as to assure I was well groomed. Because what was not going to happen was me stepping outside the house looking like “who shot John and why,” thus poorly representing myself and my family. But, this experience I appreciate still. I remember being sexualized before even thinking about sex. My early awareness of my figure was not gained through self-exploration, but instead outside observation. I remember most of my first direct experiences with sexual objectification beginning with puberty. From categorization jokes according to breast size, to being singled out in school about how nicely my butt had grown over summer recess, and all the unwanted physical advances in between. And, the beauty standards... Oh, yes. The beauty standards. My relationship and journey with my hair has been a special one. I learned early on the consequence of not appreciating what was naturally bestowed upon me. This lesson came in the form of horrible hair breakage in elementary school as a result of the relaxer I begged my mother to let me have. I was tired of my hair not lying down slick straight like that of other girls at school, and toothbrushing the baby hairs was no longer cutting it for me. I never got another relaxer since. This was an interesting journey in itself given, at that time, naturally curly Black girls would not yet be considered “in trend” for another several years. Some of our curl patterns still not being as cherished and appreciated as they should. And let’s not forget the alterations we have made and make to our appearance on account of our relationships. Be it how we style our hair, or the clothes we wear. Some being totally ridiculous, others being beneficial in the long run. I mean, if we want to go there, I was wearing sports bras good and comfortably, and rather religiously up until about 21. This only changed when a girlfriend forced me to start wearing “real bras,” saying it was time to stop playing around and step into womanhood. My breasts especially thank her today. As I recall these moments and all the others, major and minor, that have influenced and shaped my perspective of self over the years, I find rest and confidence in one truth. Your beauty, your essence, your style, should all start with you. There have been and will continue to be countless variables and factors that will exist to control and influence your truth, your spirit, your body, and how you see you. But, if you allow any earthly perspective to govern your body and spirit, let it be yours. Take in outside gems along the way. But, let your beauty be true to you. And, most important, let it be for you.
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