While browsing the responses to my recent Youtube interview, I noticed that someone had left a rather vile comment:
That thing in the middle looks like a creepshow.
I was in the middle. He was talking about me.
A man jumped under that comment and defended me, saying “That is a person, not a thing. Even ugly people deserve basic respect.”
My initial reaction was to chuckle at the incredulity of it. There was now a mini humanitarian crisis to advocate for ‘ugly people’ like me.
I literally said out loud to the computer screen,
But I’m not ugly.
I also politely corrected him:
“Thank you for defending me, but I do not think I am ugly and many people actually find me beautiful. I understand beauty is subjective and our worth is not predicated upon how we look, which is all the more reason why we should all offer each other basic respect, no matter what we find attractive.”
.
It was ironic, because that evening, I had just gotten home from an art show where, as soon as I walked in, a woman approached me to tell me how beautiful I looked.
So I am not used to receiving such dehumanizing vitriol, or even well-meaning suggestions that I’m ugly.
I am used to celebrating my beauty, and being celebrated, openly.
The chasm between my own reality and the perception of these people was vast.
…
Now, I have been enjoying some slow-cooked glamour recently, through personal explorations of fashion, adornment, and self-care—and perhaps I will share more on that soon…
But the day of this interview was not a glamorous day. It was a wash my face, put on my favorite shirt (which I designed, btw) and show up day. I could’ve done more, and sometimes I do—but I wasn’t inspired to at the time. I was enough.
Yes. I felt “enough” get on camera and present myself in front of thousands of people to share my voice, without any accoutrements. And I was able to do this because, for the past several years, I’ve intentionally taught myself to feel “enough” to go out into the world fully as myself, without any artificial enhancements.
I still have my moments of insecurity. I admit that when I first started watching the interview, I immediately started thinking of things I could’ve done to make myself look more “beautiful” for the camera.
But the more I listened to myself speak, the more my admiration for myself grew. My hyper-focus on my “flaws” or ways I could’ve “beautified” myself lessened.
I appreciated my smile, my attitude, the way I spoke and communicated ideas, and my overall presence.
As I listened to the stories I told of my pole dance years, I reminisced about how mesmerizing I look when I am dancing.
I remembered how beautiful my whole self truly is.
…
Now that comment about me looking like a ‘creepshow’ is no longer visible, perhaps because so many people downvoted it, or it got removed.
But it’s funny because I was just thinking earlier that morning, that this may not be the type of audience who finds someone like me beautiful.
It was just a passing thought…but on some level, I believe that the ‘ugly’ comments were a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Although the reception to my interview was overwhelmingly positive, that inkling of a feeling grew when I noticed a few comments where I felt deeply misunderstood.
Visible, yet unseen.
This is what happens when women dare to be great in public.
Sure, we attract admiration and opportunity. But the dark side is that our looks, behaviors, and personalities get endlessly picked apart by a vocal minority.
There is always someone in the corner trying to humble us. 🧿
Telling us we are not enough this or too much that, and to tone it all down.
I just want to make sure I am not one of those people, to myself.
Being a naturalist, I don’t follow most typical “feminine” beauty practices such as full-face makeup or shaving. That does not mean I don’t have my own beauty practices—I do. However, my approach is more holistic, as it is centered on preserving and enhancing beauty through natural health and self-care, as well as expression of personal style.
On top of that, I am a black woman with locs.
Sometimes I forget that there are many people in society who have been taught that women who have brown skin and kinky hair are ugly by default, or that African features are inherently unattractive.
I literally do forget, because that is a lower realm of ignorance that I whisked myself away from many years ago. I have detoxed from that mentality which I internalized for so long. It is now foreign to me, which makes it all the more shocking and repelling when I encounter it—from anyone.
But, yes—people who cannot see the beauty in these physical qualities, and especially those who don’t resonate with the deeper value in my choice to be natural—will find me highly unattractive.
And they may feel emboldened to be vocal about their feelings, because the way I show up in the world bucks the norm.
I naturally step out of their narrowly prescriptive idea of what a woman should be or look like, and they feel disgusted and threatened by the fact that I am not trying to be anything other than myself.
The journey for me to embrace myself the way I am and feel “enough” to present myself to the world without any enhancements has not always been easy, but it has been essential for me in learning how to love myself.
The reason why I am able to use my voice in the unique way I do is only because of my commitment to remain true to myself.
I know there are people out there who will not love the real me, but I don’t want to enslave myself to their conditionings and negative opinions.
When I am loved for who I am, exactly as I am, I feel free and so much more seen.
And isn’t that what we want—is to be loved and seen as beautiful and worthy, for who we authentically are?
If I want to be able to receive that deep love, I have to take initiative and offer it to myself, first.
Even through those times when I feel insecure, I manage to reach a little deeper and find the ways to appreciate my inner and outer beauty.
Everyone has their opinions and their own lens, and everyone finds different things attractive.
I know I am not everyone’s cup of tea, but for some, I am the greatest thing since sliced bread.
If beauty is subjective, I want to be one of those people who thinks I am beautiful.
It’s as simple as that.
I’m reading your words and just blown away by your clarity and wisdom and yes, beauty. I need more of your attitude as an aging white woman. More acceptance of being enough.
I’m also reminded how sad and pathetic and I guess strange it is for people to throw out such nastiness and negativity. But then again I remember folks saying “never read the comments“. Comments like those reveal nothing about you and everything about them.
Thank you for being here.
I loved seeing the video after reading some of your blogs for a while. Especially I admired how comfortable you are in your body and yourself, and found you beautiful. I especially felt good about your being a proud black lesbian - your presence says that to me and it feels affirming to other lesbians. Keep doing everything you do, we need your voice and presence.