At age 29 I have begun the process of mourning my beauty. The first time someone brought to my attention that I was pretty was in middle school. It was news to me at the time. I had not considered it for myself and felt self conscious knowing others knew something about me that I wasn't aware of. Since then I have received so many comments on my face and understand my physical appearance, which includes my whiteness, slenderness, gender expression and able-bodied-ness, has afforded me many privileges. This is a problem for society at large and myself as I age, wrinkle, sag and gray. I consider my face one of the least interesting things about me and something I have done nothing to deserve, which is why I am uncomfortable to receive these compliments. As I round out my twenties—a decade that evolved alongside a bloated, capitalist beauty industry—I am taking preemptive measures to allow my beauty to fade and to be content in being known for more noble endeavors.
Over the course of the last three years since starting graduate school, I have weened myself off wearing makeup and have attempted to align my beauty routine with those seen more in the male tradition—face wash, moisturizer and sun screen. Beautiful male movie stars allow their beauty to fade and for our knowing of them in their older years to be reflective of their theatrical accomplishments in the past and not their preserved beauty in the present. I recently watched a documentary on Val Kilmer, who survived throat cancer and has a tracheostomy. He was a beautiful person and compelling actor in his youth, but given the lengths he has to now go through to talk with his mangled voice, he can no longer act. He instead lives his life by getting to know his grown children and meeting adoring fans of his works past. Without the throat cancer maybe he too would have had cosmetic surgery, but he seems quite happy to age and reflect on a life well lived.
I have some wrinkles, which the Instagram influencers feeding the capitalist machine tell me to get botox for as to prevent their further onset. They also tell me to get a cheek lift to ensure the first thing people notice about me continues to be my cheek bones. Though I never really welcomed compliments on my face, I have realized how the years of them have made me come to expect a comment in the presence of new company. I expect them, in part, as a method of self defense, so I have a prepared response that will make me appear grateful when they come my way. I would much rather retort with something snarky that may reveal to their deliverer my sharp cheek bones are rivaled by my sharp wit. Now as my beauty is fading, I need to expect these comments less and remember they bare no meaning on my value, in an effort to deflect the pressures placed on me to freeze my face in time and space.
I listened to an interview with Jia Tolentino recently where she discussed a more recent (though already-outmoded) movement that urges the populous to perceive all women as beautiful. The exemplar of this movement is the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty. Her take on this was how aligned this type of thinking is with patriarchal ideals that ascribe value to women based primarily on their physical beauty. If we truly wanted to dismantle that powerful current in our lives we would not seek to have all women perceived as beautiful. Instead we might do more to value women for other pursuits and devalue the importance of physical appearance. She referred to this new perspective as body neutrality.
There is one person I have discussed being beautiful with. We were ever so briefly romantically involved. As we were parting over the phone, we discussed the goals for our future and how they didn’t align, and a bit heartbroken ended our short courtship. Part of that conversation, one we could apparently not part before having, centered around how the world alienated us a bit for being beautiful. It has remained a memorable conversation to me and I was grateful to have had the judgement-free ear to hear me and relate to me in a way that others might have perceived as ungrateful.