wow wow wow.
a meditation and call to action on ugliness and its construction, and subsequently, its implications and impacts on my life, yours, ours. by the end of this book, a rather quick read that is both creative and informative and authored by an artist, i am left with a swollen heart and a rush of catharsis.
i think this is a book everyone, especially of this day and age, should read as a generally accessible yet thought-provoking entry point into interrogating and probing this question of ugliness.
ugliness as a thing, intangible yet material, that looms. reading this, i came across my own revelations about my relation to ugliness. she does almost case studies on two features essentially recognized as universally "ugly" features: noses (big, wide, pointy or bulbous, etc.) and body hair. both of which i have. both of which i have long contended with. her own personal experiences dealing with her big nose and hairiness both made me feel less alone but also quite grateful. i was, as most teenage girls are, concerned with my appearance. my desirability. but on reflection, i am so grateful that i wasn't obsessed with it. i chased it in my own ways, yes, like learning how to wear some makeup, trying to get into painting my nails, attempting to do my hair (never really panned out, i've always been too lazy to commit to doing my hair consistently or elaborately) to shaving. but sometimes i think that i accepted my lot in life, my "ugliness" a bit early on, settling into the invisibility it shrouded me in. so much so that even now, at 25, when anyone calls me pretty or beautiful, i say thank you and quickly pass over it, shocked at its designation to me.
**for me really**
i always knew beauty concerning physicality wasn't a word attributed to me growing up in any way. the body hair on my six year old legs as if i'd been sprouted that way, plagued me. my mustache did. my arm hair too. even the hair on my cheeks and my sideburns. my happy trail. the list goes on. all of it pointed out by children at school and prodded at by my own family. i wasn't like my sisters. i had hair everywhere. and for so long, that caused me such intense insecurity and strife that i wore only pants to school year long from 5 to 13, cried as a child when i had to wear a skirt because my uniform pants couldn't be washed in time by my single mother, wore only long sleeved shirts or always a cardigan on top, even on sweltering summer days, almost begged to be taught how to shave my legs, started at 14 getting my eyebrows threaded to get rid of my unibrow, and bleached my arm hair for prom. body hair, my body hair, was evidence that i couldn't be beautiful. that i wore a coat of my unbelongingness, visible to all and marking me as Other. this especially felt cemented when i first saw a white girl in gym class with lots of leg hair, but all blonde, at 14. that body hair on me was grotesque, but ok on her because you could only see it if you looked closely. and i was always looking closely...i remember never ever thinking of my nose, except that it was what i shared with my mother, but i can never forget when my older sister passingly commented on how much my nose "sticks out" when i was in high school. and from that moment on, i could never unsee it. i sought out and hated every angle my nose was captured at, especially in pictures, finding the ugliness, the unloveable-ness in the slope of my nose. still, i struggle to reconcile with my nose at times, being caught off guard by a picture, but always trying to remember that my nose was given to me by generations of resilient, courageous, and wonderful guyanese women and men. and for that, i am so proud. my journey with my body hair has been a long and arduous one, one i still feel torn about some days, especially summer days, the idea of putting it on display. i love my body hair, i retain almost all of it always, and even miss my unibrow, a ghost of my forehead's past after 11 years of threading. but i can't lie how much comfort and safety shaving my legs gives me when i decide to wear a skirt. i engage in it almost as a "treat" now, but try to push myself through the intense anxiety and fear of wearing it out, again, on display.
**
and this is exactly what some of you never understand, especially if you aren't automatically Othered. body hair feels more like a choice, a statement for you, a badge of pride or courage, a sign of liberation, when retaining and displaying body hair for the Othered, feels inherently dangerous, a jeopardizing of our saferty, and devaluing of ourselves, our potential, and the compounding of that marked difference. and that is why i hate having the conversation with a white person or person who doesn't really have noticeable body hair. you don't get it. you never will. even for me, i am less hairy on the hairy scale, especially for women, and i recognize the ease and privilege that comes with that. that there IS a privilege to it.
all this meandering to pinpoint the idea that beauty and ugliness, this dichotomy, is entirely constructed and undeniably political. that beauty is one of society's highest valued constructions because it is so universal, so interred with the physical, that it is immediate. there need not be any getting to know a person and their character; it is instantaneous, judge-able, condemning or exalting. to be ugly is to be dehumanized. reduced, dismissed, invisible. there is so much to gain materially and access-wise when you're considered beautiful. and to be beautiful is based in whiteness. in eurocentric beauty standards that also co-opt fetishized "ethnic" features for a bit until they fall out of fashion yet again. hilal plots this all out through her investigation into the presence of the nose and body hair, the connections to plastic surgery and death, and what it all means to abhor ugliness, to try to distance ourselves from it to chase this idea of beauty. she mentions but doesn't dive into fatness, disability (she does a bit when it comes to disfigurement from illness), and skin color. obviously, there are so many criteria allotted to ugliness that could be discussed but she kept this book focused on body hair and noses. OH and when she discusses illness and ugliness, i kept thinking about cronenberg's crash. that becomes a different slice into it, but the thread he built between injury and desirability was intriguing too. her last section, reconciliation, brings it to a poignant head as she recounts her own experience and realization from mia mingus's urging to embrace ugliness, make more room in the world for it, and allow us that freedom. i love that. i have many many thoughts on beauty and ugliness beyond the fraction of what i've shared, as you can probably see, but i've come to think and love that about "ugliness". the intimacy of ugliness. the tenderness inherent to it in a world that drools over beauty.
i really quite enjoyed hilal's creative touches throughout the book from her writing style that are spurts or longer reflections mixed with photographs or illustrations she created. she grounds her investigation in research and histories, and adds a thoughtful line to follow throughout. she confesses her insecurities and her unfinished yet ever evolving journey with ugliness. it is poignant. poignant.
perfection is overrated. and moreso, fake. we strive and waste our lives bowing and bending and breaking for constructions. things that aren't truly real that we attempted to make real to control others, and by consequence, ourselves. embrace your little slice of ugliness. free yourself this evening. don't be afraid to be real.