Just to clarify: the last thing I want is to come across as smarmy or pretentious toward women who fit the cultural beauty standards to a lesser degree than me. I know that identity shapes communication for both the sender and receiver. I am aware that I happen to be a relatively medium-sized, relatively “cute”, thrifty-bohemian-whitey. Hopefully, the point I’m trying to make is not obscured by factors beyond my control. We’ve all got different issues about body image and gender and racism and cultural messages, but the generalities of this project, if not the specifics, could resonate with a diverse spectrum of women.
It might be easier for women who fit the standard more to accept themselves, at least on a shallow level. The degrees of intrinsic self-acceptance that come from the ways in which we fail to live up to beauty standards are deeper.
To put it another way: fat womyn are free to accept themselves no matter what negative messages they receive from their culture. The ways in which they defy the social norms leave them free to define their own standards of beauty. The same is true of women of color, differently abled, genderqueer and transgendered persons, elders, and all the other marginalized groups. Although we have no power to alter the way others treat or perceive us, altering the way we feel about ourselves can lead to dramatic improvements almost every area of our lives.
Besides, let me reiterate: beauty standards are a no-win situation. Growing up, I experienced intense ridicule for being “ugly” almost every day. Now that I’m “not-ugly,” the situation is not that much better. I still feel like a non-person, as a woman: either I’m an ugly and invisible non-person, or a cute, fluffy, and helpless non-person. Neither of those alternatives are acceptable to me.
Having agency over the camera helps me to reconcile this impossible dichotomy. I study the curves of my mouth, the splotches on my chin, in an artistic sense, and feel beautiful as part of the world, beautiful exactly as I should be, not beautiful as a shell made of cosmetics and yearning and social approval.
I’m gonna get all sappy on you. My mother is so beautiful. I’m proud to be her daughter.
26/03/2008 at 2:52 pm Permalink
It’s not sappy to be proud of one’s progenators. In fact, I think it is wonderful.
But maybe that is because I’m a little sappy myself..