Beautiful to Who?

We've all heard the cliche, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But does that still hold true in American society? Do we decide for ourselves who and what is beautiful? Do we allow others to decide if we are beautiful? Growing up with four older sisters, a very reassuring father, and a mother who is dark in skin tone like me, I never questioned whether or not I was beautiful as a child because it was something I heard all the time. Although my teeth were crooked and I didn't smile much, my family members always made it a point to tell me how pretty I was. As a kid I just went with it, but as I entered Junior High, it began to be something I questioned. I had a self esteem quite contrary to my environment. None of the boys at my school thought I was beautiful. I was teased for being too dark, too short, too skinny etc. All the boys I liked, liked the white girls, the mixed girls, and the girls who were of lighter complexion. Because I am so adaptive in nature I took on other roles. Sometimes I was the smart mouthed mean girl, others times the funny home girl, but most the time I was just quiet. Even to this day I spend a lot of time in my own head.

When I was 18 I cut my hair very short. I started getting so much attention and compliments for being able to pull off a short cut, it made me feel like a completely different person. When I was 19 I got my teeth straightened and began to smile more. Again, people started to look my way. I began to feel more confident and I started to feel as if I was finally coming into my own. I loved taking pictures and posting them on social media. I loved getting dressed up and made up and going out and receiving attention from men. It was all very satisfying....until it wasn't. I began to miss the old me. I hated that when I met men they didn't want to talk to me and only wanted to examine my physical, and tell me how attractive I was. I hated not feeling pretty when I wasn't in heels, makeup, and small skimpy dresses. I hated not feeling like I could be my true self when I was in heels, makeup, and short skimpy dresses (No man wants to debate with you about politics when your half dressed and tipsy). I had developed a false sense of confidence based on the things other people had told me about myself, all my life, and I no longer recognized the person in the mirror. Not once had I really looked in the mirror and decided for myself that I was beautiful inside and out because that's the way God made me.

When I began to focus on who I was as a person rather than how I looked, I began to feel more and more beautiful. I learned that I have a beautiful mind, a beautiful heart, and a beautiful spirit. I learned of my beautiful desire for knowledge, my beautiful yearning to change the world, and my beautiful compassion to help others. Through my relationships I learned that I am an unconditional, forgiving, rational, funny, sometimes crazy, but always devoted, beautiful lover and friend. I discovered my beauty and it had nothing at all to do with anything physical. Although I have grown to love my small yet curvy figure, my dark chocolate skin, and my Halley Berry hair, all of that is just the icing on the cake. Now when I meet a man for the first time and he tells me I'm beautiful, I laugh inside and think to myself "You have no idea how beautiful I am". I don't claim to be without insecurities. My roommate and good friend Sarah is a very pretty, voluptuous white girl and when we go out together the black men flock to her and I'm back in middle school telling jokes. But I understand now that different cultures have different ideas, different concepts, and different standards of physical beauty. In my family black is beautiful. In American culture, European standards of beauty are praised. What's more important is how we define beauty for ourselves. We can spend our whole lives trying to measure up to other peoples standards of physical beauty, or we can just decide to love ourselves for everything we are and everything we are not, and call that beautiful.