My reflection on femininity and pride
Believe it or not, I wasn't always this glamorous.
Every day I thank theoretical god that I somehow equipped myself with an interest in self presentation. Some of my Boulan comrades may remember my emo days. For me, sixth grade style was my horribly neglected poofy hair cut very short and clipped back. I chose to wear badly designed My Chemical Romance shirts from Hot Topic, paired with some old black jeans that were 4 sizes too big for me, and a DOLLAR STORE Fall Out Boy belt that I wore RELIGIOUSLY, despite the fact that it gave me a RASH???
It's something that I don't like to reminisce on.
(As a lover of personal style and expression, I like to think that I have a pretty "you do you" mindset. So I'd like to clarify real quick that this is a self roast, and not an attack on any 2019 emos out there.)
My mother is a very glamorous woman. I grew up watching her doing her makeup, red lipstick applied so flawlessly and matching so well with her leather outfit. Along with her perfect style, she also heads two non-profit Middle Eastern outreach organizations. It's easy to say that I see my mother as a perfect symbol of femininity and freedom. But it wasn't always like that.
In elementary school, I grew the roots of who I am today. I was somehow blessed with advanced reading skills. I zoomed through books about Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, and Anne Frank. I was slowly gaining the ability to recognize the issues that surrounded me, and becoming a very powerful 4th grader.
As I learned about the injustices of our wonderful humanity and the people who countered them, I missed out on another important message.
Kids can be jerks. It's not their fault, because they do it to get that attention their homes probably aren't giving them. But it sucks. Years ago, my mom convinced me to cut and donate my hair for the first time, and by cut, I mean a whole foot GONE. Of course I hated it. My older brother was going through an edgy phase at the time and called me "miss poof" for three months. Miss Poof really got to me. I hated having curly hair. I cursed my dad for giving me his unmanageable genes.
When my mom used to dress me, I would roll up to Schroeder sporting some VERY cute hairstyles and fur coats. Shortly after the big chop, my mom decided to buy me a Ralph Lauren horse rider outfit. I distinctly remember my mom showing it to me, me hating it, me being forced to wear it to school, and then me being made fun of by the one girl I wanted to be friends with the most.
After I realized that 3rd graders are mean and all I wanted to do was read books and draw, I started to care less about my appearance. I refused to let my mom choose my outfits. I actually remember being angry at my mom for doing her makeup and precisely styling her outfits. I hated going to the mall with her because I thought it was stupid. I started to hate everything claimed as "girly"; and it stayed like that for a long time.
Looking back on it now, it's very clear to me that my childhood insecurities stem from a party mix of internalized misogyny, bullying, and misguided conceptions. No one ever told me that I could be both smart and feel pretty at the same time. The world presented it like you either had to be a beautiful idiot, or an ugly genius. It's presented to young girls all the time. Think of any "dumb blonde" trope, the entire concept of Mean Girls and Clueless, or the supposedly "feminist" anthem by P!nk, Stupid Girls.
As I write this, I'm coming up on 16 in a couple weeks. Throughout my life, I've gone through a horrendous amount of character development. Every day I learn something new, but I am very comfortable with who I am right now. I wake up at 5:45 every weekday so I have enough time to scroll Instagram, shower, do my hair, makeup, and outfit styling just before I have to run out the door at seven. I don't put myself through this routine because I feel pressured to, as if I have something to prove or someone to please, but because I want to. I really cannot explain the spicy serotonin I get from choosing a perfect Luna Look, or flicking my winged eyeliner just right.
I go to school, analyze the frick out of some American literature, blast through some math problems, and even do some public speaking in a foreign language.
I'm never gonna let someone convince me again that I can't harness those aspects together.
*** A note for the beloved Ms. V: I am very sorry about the length of this post. I am not illiterate, and I do acknowledge the 250 word limit. Except today I took that as an extremely loose suggestion.***
Every day I thank theoretical god that I somehow equipped myself with an interest in self presentation. Some of my Boulan comrades may remember my emo days. For me, sixth grade style was my horribly neglected poofy hair cut very short and clipped back. I chose to wear badly designed My Chemical Romance shirts from Hot Topic, paired with some old black jeans that were 4 sizes too big for me, and a DOLLAR STORE Fall Out Boy belt that I wore RELIGIOUSLY, despite the fact that it gave me a RASH???
It's something that I don't like to reminisce on.
(As a lover of personal style and expression, I like to think that I have a pretty "you do you" mindset. So I'd like to clarify real quick that this is a self roast, and not an attack on any 2019 emos out there.)
My mother is a very glamorous woman. I grew up watching her doing her makeup, red lipstick applied so flawlessly and matching so well with her leather outfit. Along with her perfect style, she also heads two non-profit Middle Eastern outreach organizations. It's easy to say that I see my mother as a perfect symbol of femininity and freedom. But it wasn't always like that.
In elementary school, I grew the roots of who I am today. I was somehow blessed with advanced reading skills. I zoomed through books about Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, and Anne Frank. I was slowly gaining the ability to recognize the issues that surrounded me, and becoming a very powerful 4th grader.
As I learned about the injustices of our wonderful humanity and the people who countered them, I missed out on another important message.
Kids can be jerks. It's not their fault, because they do it to get that attention their homes probably aren't giving them. But it sucks. Years ago, my mom convinced me to cut and donate my hair for the first time, and by cut, I mean a whole foot GONE. Of course I hated it. My older brother was going through an edgy phase at the time and called me "miss poof" for three months. Miss Poof really got to me. I hated having curly hair. I cursed my dad for giving me his unmanageable genes.
When my mom used to dress me, I would roll up to Schroeder sporting some VERY cute hairstyles and fur coats. Shortly after the big chop, my mom decided to buy me a Ralph Lauren horse rider outfit. I distinctly remember my mom showing it to me, me hating it, me being forced to wear it to school, and then me being made fun of by the one girl I wanted to be friends with the most.
 |
| 2011 flex via my mother |
After I realized that 3rd graders are mean and all I wanted to do was read books and draw, I started to care less about my appearance. I refused to let my mom choose my outfits. I actually remember being angry at my mom for doing her makeup and precisely styling her outfits. I hated going to the mall with her because I thought it was stupid. I started to hate everything claimed as "girly"; and it stayed like that for a long time.
 |
| tfw ur knee high converse almost touch the length of ur knee length leggings |
Looking back on it now, it's very clear to me that my childhood insecurities stem from a party mix of internalized misogyny, bullying, and misguided conceptions. No one ever told me that I could be both smart and feel pretty at the same time. The world presented it like you either had to be a beautiful idiot, or an ugly genius. It's presented to young girls all the time. Think of any "dumb blonde" trope, the entire concept of Mean Girls and Clueless, or the supposedly "feminist" anthem by P!nk, Stupid Girls.
As I write this, I'm coming up on 16 in a couple weeks. Throughout my life, I've gone through a horrendous amount of character development. Every day I learn something new, but I am very comfortable with who I am right now. I wake up at 5:45 every weekday so I have enough time to scroll Instagram, shower, do my hair, makeup, and outfit styling just before I have to run out the door at seven. I don't put myself through this routine because I feel pressured to, as if I have something to prove or someone to please, but because I want to. I really cannot explain the spicy serotonin I get from choosing a perfect Luna Look, or flicking my winged eyeliner just right.
I go to school, analyze the frick out of some American literature, blast through some math problems, and even do some public speaking in a foreign language.
I'm never gonna let someone convince me again that I can't harness those aspects together.
*** A note for the beloved Ms. V: I am very sorry about the length of this post. I am not illiterate, and I do acknowledge the 250 word limit. Except today I took that as an extremely loose suggestion.***
Luna, I really enjoyed reading--from your third grade hair cut, to your emo phase, and to your style and self confidence that you have now! It's awesome how you embrace every part of yourself and broken free from labels. For both boys and girls, society has become so accustomed to labeling and categorizing types of people. And as cliche as this may sound, empowering yourself though different interests is really important!
ReplyDeletewow Luna I can't say we lived the same life but I relate to this a LOT ( i also donated my hair like that LOL). also big side note: I look at ur outfits every day because they are in my line of view and also very good and don't think I've ever gotten the chance to compliment you yet ! so here it is: You are a fashion icon (imma still do it in person sometime don't worry). I think right now I most relate to waking up slightly early to make sure my makeup looks good, outfits are usually a night before kind of prep. On a more serious note, I can agree on the internalyzed misogyny, during middle school I wore pretty neutral outfits just trying to look "normal" as a hijabi but I secretly envied the tomboy look amongst many other looks. now i wear them all and 1/2 my western closet is Men's clothing
ReplyDeleteI can honestly say this was SO relatable! As a child, I too hated my curly hair and relied on my straightener (curses to my arab dad lol) but I love how you highlighted that we should all learn to embrace ourselves and do it all for us, not anyone else. This was a great read!
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh this is such good writing! I love that you didn't do something boring and standard like most people do (like I did but don't judge me). Your childhood story was so relatable, I remember the ten year phase I had of hating pink just because it was seen as girly, and being girly was stupid. Your story is really powerful and I think we can all learn to embrace our femininity more often.
ReplyDelete