Let’s talk about beauty for a few minutes. This is a strangely subjective and universal topic. Standards have fluctuated based on timeline and geography (much like religion) and a lot of people like to wax on about it being in the eye of the beholder. Let’s get personal for a moment. We deal with a society that inundates us with “standards” of Westernized beauty that impacts us all, whether we meet those standards or not. When I was a little girl my heart was broken because I was nowhere near Marilyn Monroe. I hadn’t seen Bettie Page yet, and hadn’t realize brunettes, let alone Asians, could be considered beautiful.
I had partners in my past tear me down, neg me, make me self conscious about my weight, or I had issues about my bust being smaller than what I thought appropriate for my broad shouldered frame. I am half Scottish. I am half Korean. I have said I have an Asian face on a European woman’s body. I am a hybrid, and I didn’t have much representation growing up in media that looked like me. I am very fortunate that through the years my body image improved as I became empowered. This went hand in hand. I came to understand that I have intrinsic value regardless of my appearance, but that I am also a beautiful woman. I have lips, hips, tits. I‘ve felt like walking sex, I have felt the power of taking ownership of my femininity, to be wild, glamorous, and I know what it feels like to be worshiped upon the alter that is a shared bed or space between me and my lover. I am fiery passion. You can smell the confidence radiating from me, it’s in my sweat, it’s in my blood.
I have privilege because of when and where I was born, and what I look like. I understand that I am not going to be everyone’s “type,” but that I hit a pretty broad spectrum and that I’ve turned heads even when I’m not someone’s usual type. This isn’t being said flippantly or to be an arrogant bitch. This is being said in a tone of victory. It is the most punk and feminist and liberating thing to realize your own beauty and intangible quality, to be self validated, and to overcome all the unnecessary bullshit life throws your way. To wake up and see the most beautiful woman in your life in the mirror every morning, on your own, or an absolute mess next to your partner after a wild night of crazy sex, with a full face of make up, or bare faced with tangled hair. To find people in your life who you cherish and who cherish you back, and who honor you the way you honor yourself, that is a true blessing.
There is a play off of namaste I recently got on a shirt that says “the badass woman in me honors the badass woman in you” and I absolutely love that concept and I try my best to live it every day. We still deal with issues regarding intersectional femininity, we still have toxic masculinity and TERF bs and gender roles and ridiculous standards for men and women and everyone in between to combat. We don’t need to tear each other down, the world is hard enough as it is. We need to lift each other up in solidarity, we can all succeed together and are not dealing with the zero sum game some would like us to believe we’re in. I am beyond disappointed that at any age, but especially at my age now, that these conversations still need to happen. Coming at me or anyone else is a terrible idea that serves no one, but trying to come at my appearance means you already lost, and I have no sympathy for the hole you’re digging yourself into. How dare you come after one of my friends, the fucking audacity. You are ugly on the inside, and that’s something you’ll have to work out on your own. You can’t stand beside me, you’re nowhere near worthy. I don’t tolerate or suffer fools, and I won’t start shit but I will always finish it. This is me in all my crowning glory, authentic and unafraid to paint myself as I see fit. I am fucking gorgeous and here are the selfies to fucking prove it.