I find that a lot of my blog posts are created when someone says or does something that touches a nerve: this is no different than any of my other posts. I recently saw a tweet circulating on my timeline that declared Carrie Underwood as the most beautiful woman in the world. Don't get me wrong Carrie Underwood is cuter than me; I'm not debating that I look better than someone who probably has 15 people that help her get ready in the morning. I will, however, negate the idea that there is definitely a singular person who is more beautiful than all others.
The idea that Carrie Underwood is the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth is contingent on Eurocentric ideals of beauty: light colored hair, light colored, big eyes eyes, fair skin, thin, rosy cheeked, thin nose, small lips (I think you get the point). Everything I described, Carrie Underwood is: she's skinny with a small nose and lips and she has blond hair and light colored eyes and light skin and the whole 9 yards, I have exactly none of those things. So if Carrie Underwood checks off everything on the list and is described as the most beautiful and I check off exactly 0 of them does that make me the ugliest person on the earth? Of course not, but it took me a very long time to figure that out.
Even if we don't realize it, every person raised in the West is brought up on Eurocentric ideals of beauty: it's what we strive for. Growing up in a predominately white town and going to a predominately white school my entire life, I know full well the pressure to live up to such standards when it's physically impossible to do so.
I can remember back in 4th grade when I had my hair braided with real Indian Remy hair: I was so excited. I went to school the weekend after and told everyone that my hair was human and expected everyone to be really jealous of me; the exact opposite happened. I was 9 and I wanted to feel special, but one girl didn't really want that to happen. I guess I could say her name and shame her, but I'd rather not so let's call her Ashley (because there were no 4th grade girls named Ashley at my school). Anyways, Ashley confronted me to let me know that she believed my hair to have been stolen off of a dead person and then proceeded to tell the whole class. Needless to say I tried very hard from that point on to not wear my hair in braids for 3 years following that incident.
The thing is I don't think Ashley did it intentionally to force down the idea that my hair should be perfectly straight and brown like hers, but it worked. I started straightening my hair that year and using mouse on the days I didn't have time. Someone commented on my eyebrows, so I went home and tried to trim them, but in true Maame fashion cut one entirely off and had to draw it on for a month. Again I don't think the person who told me my eyebrows were bushy was trying to hurt me either, but I wanted so badly not to look like the odd one out: the singular kid who didn't look like she'd fit in a sunblock commercial.
Slight attacks against the non-European body happen beyond 4th grade bathroom break conversations. For instance, just about every magazine gears it's audience toward white women. "Pinch your cheeks for color" leaves my cheeks looking the exact same. Everything from hair care to makeup tips is made for the fairer shades. Even in the American Military a black person can fight for their country, but can't wear their natural hair. I type in "beautiful hair" into Google Images and
The idea that Carrie Underwood is the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth is contingent on Eurocentric ideals of beauty: light colored hair, light colored, big eyes eyes, fair skin, thin, rosy cheeked, thin nose, small lips (I think you get the point). Everything I described, Carrie Underwood is: she's skinny with a small nose and lips and she has blond hair and light colored eyes and light skin and the whole 9 yards, I have exactly none of those things. So if Carrie Underwood checks off everything on the list and is described as the most beautiful and I check off exactly 0 of them does that make me the ugliest person on the earth? Of course not, but it took me a very long time to figure that out.
Even if we don't realize it, every person raised in the West is brought up on Eurocentric ideals of beauty: it's what we strive for. Growing up in a predominately white town and going to a predominately white school my entire life, I know full well the pressure to live up to such standards when it's physically impossible to do so.
I can remember back in 4th grade when I had my hair braided with real Indian Remy hair: I was so excited. I went to school the weekend after and told everyone that my hair was human and expected everyone to be really jealous of me; the exact opposite happened. I was 9 and I wanted to feel special, but one girl didn't really want that to happen. I guess I could say her name and shame her, but I'd rather not so let's call her Ashley (because there were no 4th grade girls named Ashley at my school). Anyways, Ashley confronted me to let me know that she believed my hair to have been stolen off of a dead person and then proceeded to tell the whole class. Needless to say I tried very hard from that point on to not wear my hair in braids for 3 years following that incident.
The thing is I don't think Ashley did it intentionally to force down the idea that my hair should be perfectly straight and brown like hers, but it worked. I started straightening my hair that year and using mouse on the days I didn't have time. Someone commented on my eyebrows, so I went home and tried to trim them, but in true Maame fashion cut one entirely off and had to draw it on for a month. Again I don't think the person who told me my eyebrows were bushy was trying to hurt me either, but I wanted so badly not to look like the odd one out: the singular kid who didn't look like she'd fit in a sunblock commercial.
Slight attacks against the non-European body happen beyond 4th grade bathroom break conversations. For instance, just about every magazine gears it's audience toward white women. "Pinch your cheeks for color" leaves my cheeks looking the exact same. Everything from hair care to makeup tips is made for the fairer shades. Even in the American Military a black person can fight for their country, but can't wear their natural hair. I type in "beautiful hair" into Google Images and
this pops up. Every single picture in the first page consists straight/ tasseled/ lightly curled, glossy hair. And an unexpected point to my case is that "African American hair" has it's very own category! As to say: "you're hair isn't beautiful enough to make the list so we gave you your own".
Looking up "beautiful eyes" evokes a very similar response:
Nearly every set of eyes shown is blue or the lighter variety.
Seeing things like this worries me. When I hear people tell Beyonce to "do Blue Ivy's hair" or say "You're cute for a black girl", my stomach turns in knots. Western society holds these beliefs that beauty comes in one package and the only variants include different versions of light and bright.
It's taken me nearly 10 years to overcome my internalized racism: to stop wondering why my hair isn't like everyone else's or why my skin is so dark. I spent nearly all of elementary and middle school feeling sorry for my looks. I used to wear bobby pins in the bottom of my ponytails so they wouldn't stick up, I would roll my lips up to make them seem smaller. I shaved off my eyebrows, I wet my hair in the middle of the day to make my bangs lay flat, I did everything to be just like the other girls at my school before finally, around freshman/sophomore year, I realized that I'm cute and black. They aren't mutually exclusive like Google Images makes it seem, but inclusive of one another.
I walked into school today with proudly presented dark brown skin and, yes, box braided hair with extensions (Ashley could only hold me back so long!). I don't curl my lips up anymore because I'm not in search of my lips appearing smaller. My eyebrows haven't seen a trimmer in nearly 3 years so don't bother with any of the eyebrow antics. And there's no point looking into my eyes and comparing them to an ocean, because my eyes are such a deep brown that it's nearly impossible to differentiate between my pupil and my iris. And the best part is that I don't even care that I look nothing like Carrie Underwood: there is a negative resemblance and it doesn't even matter.
It took me too long to accept me for me, and it's great that I've done that; but I can't help but think of all of the other little black and brown children who curl up their lip, or shave off their eyebrows or get made fun of for their hair. I can't help but think that there's a little Maame sitting around wondering why she was born with 'bad hair'. It's always in the back of my mind how long it will take for Blue Ivy to internalize all of the attacks on her appearance. It scares me how many children and even adults go through everyday hating something about themselves because it doesn't fit into this Carrie Underwood sized box. And I'm not blaming her, Carrie Underwood I mean, looking the way most people want everyone to look because it's not her fault, but I am blaming every media outlet, every micro-aggression and every purposeful attack on anyone's looks.
I'm happy with who I am and how I look, but not everyone is, so I'll advocate for them.
