i'm not pretty

... and only a little fun.

Ok, so look at the picture at the top of this post. What do you see?

I see me (obviously). The me with dark spots on my chin and my chest. My smile isn’t full of pearly whites - more like off white and aging. My face is too round and there’s a double chin. My shoulders are too wide and I have a slight hunchback. The only reason I look palatable (maybe) is because I’m wearing a sarong so you can’t really see my belly and chunky thighs. My hair looks dry and way too wispy. So much to the point that I have to remind myself I’m not going bald. I’m not pretty.

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I want to start off this substack by saying this is in fact the most vulnerable and difficult one I’ve ever written. More vulnerable than talking about my mental health or doing IOP. While this definitely ties into my mental health struggles, this is probably the one thing that I’ve been most scared of and closed off to discussing.

It has been brought to my attention that I can be pretty emotionally closed off. Which is true. I’m working on it but still have a ways to go. Therapy does not work in a day. But, as I go through this process of making my web series, Late Bloomer, I’m learning that I need to be more open and as I stated in my last post - do things scared. So buckle in. It’s probably gonna be a long one.

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I am not pretty. I am not attractive. Not someone that most men (because sadly, that’s what I’m attached to) find desirable. I don’t universally benefit from pretty privilege. I am often overlooked, left by myself, and considered an after thought. I am judged first based on my skin color. Then judged for my weight. Then for my personality. I am not pretty.

I don’t say this to be flippant but simply state a fact based on my life experience. I don’t say this to get likes or have people crawling out of the woodwork to tell me how beautiful I am. Or say something truly patronizing like my value shouldn’t be based in a man and my value comes from within. That God is the only one that can judge me. If you think I haven’t heard these things before or don’t understand that me and God be talking all the time - you trippin’. I’m saying it because we, as a culture and community, really need to talk about it. There is a loneliness that comes with this kind of hurt and lack of being chosen whether romantically, friendship wise, or work wise. Because this lack of being pretty affects all aspects of life.

From a young age, I have been told in many ways and many actions that I am not pretty. That I am not desirable. That I take up too much space in this world for someone who is not palatable. Whether it came from the family member who told me I’d be prettier if I lost weight when I was a teenager. Or the friend who said they wouldn’t date me because I’m Black - mind you, I was not checking for him like that. I was told by the first guy I ever kissed that I wasn’t cute or ugly - I was something in between. I was told by a man on the dance floor that I look good for being pregnant - this was completely unprovoked and I weighed significantly less than I do now. I have been told I’m only good for my body - through a dating app no less. After a man sexually assaulted me, I managed to shove him away then he told me I’m not that pretty anyways and that “no one wants to marry the virgin” - he proceeded to call and text me for several weeks saying he was probably the best I was going to do. I have been left by friends at parties as men who found them attractive lured them away while I waited on a couch till it was a reasonable time for me to go home. I have been rejected on the dance floor - again left on the wall until it was a reasonable time to go home. My date to junior prom thought my friend was pretty and spent the night trying to flirt with her - I think we danced together once. I have been called fat and ugly, kinda pretty for a Black girl, and everything in between. As a fat Black, it’s been assumed that I’m desperate and happy for any attention I get. I haven’t been on a date in a decade. Never been in love. Never had sex. This is just a small sample of my life.

Now, I understand that I am not capital ‘U’ ugly. I am lowercase ‘u’ ugly. I am a fat, dark-skinned Black lady living in America. The odds were stacked against me. Being capital ‘P’ pretty is often thought to be anything closer to Euro-centric features. While I personally, and many people I know, do not agree with the stereotypical Euro-centric idea of beauty, it’s what has permeated our culture. While there has been a shift in culture to ‘diversity’, it’s still often rooted in whiteness and a person of color’s proximity to it. I know we like to think that beauty is subjective and in the eye of the beholder but we also need to recognize that as a society we have been conditioned to think a certain way. Our patterns and behaviors are reinforced by larger society, culture and media.

This is everything from skin color, hair texture, and body type. Look at people like the Kardashians - they have cosmetically enhanced their bodies with Black like features but not demonized for these characteristics because of their whiteness. Society has demonized Black beauty but not Black culture. Curly hair is even broken down from most manageable to least. Society has made white and thinness the standard. The closer we get to that - the better we’ll be. Despite what we may be initially attracted to. Studies on dating apps have found that users least match with Black women and Asian men. The lack of desirability of these two groups are reinforced by the media. And before I lose you, I swear this is not some weird reverse incel nonsense.

Part of the reason I have been so terrified to talk about this is because hardly anyone will let me. When you tell people that you’re ugly, they are quick to find excuses. They tell you to have confidence or you just haven’t met the right one. They ask if you’re putting yourself out there or if you have good pictures on your dating profile. They tell you it’s not true or try to bring up what a great personality you have. They say it’s the beauty on the inside that counts. And while yes, I definitely need more confidence in myself and should probably leave my house more (to be fair, outside is expensive), folks don’t want to admit a glaring truth. People don’t want to admit that there is such a thing as pretty privilege. Because if they admit that, they’d have to admit there’s ugly bias/curse and how they’ve been complicit. Especially your friends and family. People often don’t want to admit how much of a role Pretty and Body Privilege play in everyday life and how we (the societal “we”) are complicit in letting it flourish.

Instead, the concerns, loneliness, and very real experiences of folks like me are dismissed.

There’s data to back up this complex ecosystem of pretty privilege. Starting with the Halo Effect: The halo effect occurs when one positive attribute of a person—often their physical attractiveness—leads people to make blanket positive evaluations of that person. There’s also its ugly cousin, the Horn Effect: The horn effect occurs when a negative attribute leads to unduly harsh overall judgments about a person.

Missing white, blonde children are seen as more attractive and innocent therefore get more airtime. A study from the National Longitudinal Study of Adolescent to Adult Health showed “that more attractive persons were less likely to be arrested and convicted than less attractive persons.” Several studies show that people deemed more attractive see greater success in reproducing, getting better jobs, and several other factors of life. Those who benefit from pretty privilege have better access to social mobility and networking opportunities. Studies have also shown that even teachers give preferential treatment to students under the influence of the Halo effect.

All the examples from my life that I’ve listed above have been told to or done to me by men and friends from across the color spectrum. So it’s not like I could even try to avoid it by avoiding a specific type of person. Many of the negative comments and actions based on my body and prettiness have come from those closest to me - often unintentionally. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I have had to overcompensate for my lack of pretty by falsely claiming confidence or being funny or overly nice. I try to be palatable so others will forget my ugliness. Again, I write these things not for you to feel sorry for me but so we can talk about it. I so desperately need friends and family to recognize that despite what they think of me, society and culture at large view me and my body in a completely different way. On top of that, their actions often reinforce the messages society already tells me by dismissing this very real experience.

So, as I grew older, I became more and more closed off. I perpetually lived under the assumption that I didn’t want to be seen or more aptly, I shouldn’t be seen. I felt and feel so awkward in my body. I try to take up the least amount of space possible fully believing I shouldn’t be allowed to take up space anyway. Even though I didn’t have a name for what was happening, I knew something was. I got tired of leaving the comfort of my home to spend time with friends to only be left alone. I avoided going out with friends because, even though hook up culture has never been my thing, my friends would be hit on and I’d be left alone. I’d avoid buying clothes feeling I’d be judged by family members for how the clothes would look on my body. I avoided dating apps because I rarely got matches and hated people telling me I just had to try harder. I fear putting on make-up because I felt like I’m lying to the world - that I’m tricking everyone before I reveal my true ugliness. I didn’t like to post pictures of myself when initially doing my podcast or this substack because I assumed attaching a face like mine to any project would be more of a hinderance than a help - why would you support anything with someone as ugly as me attached?

I found solace hanging out with mainly queer people because I wouldn’t have to perform desirability or prettiness for them. I go to the movies by myself because no one will have to see me when the lights go down. I go to the same coffee shop every weekend because I know my body and my lack of pretty will fit into the space - plus there’s always parking. I prefer one on one gatherings as to not have to burden new people. I have many unrequited friend crushes because I’m terrified that they couldn’t possibly want to be friends with someone who looks like me - the pretty politics of it all doesn’t work out. My life constantly feels on hold.

While I acknowledge that part of this is my anxiety magnified to the nth degree, it doesn’t make it any less real. I know the looks I get when I walk into certain spaces. The lack of acknowledgement from service workers. The assumptions about my body from doctors and lack of care. The lack of interaction from men - because again, sadly I am attracted to them. The dismissal of my concerns from friends because they don’t live in this body and possibly because they recognize they benefit from my ugly.

Despite feeling all of this, I still have the deep desire to be known and seen. To be loved. Even when I believe it will likely never happen. (Again, bare with me. Therapy doesn’t work overnight). It is hard me to be vulnerable like this and not only live in this anxiety but share it with you all. I’ve teared up and started crying while writing this several times. But I also know the power of sharing stories, of sharing truth. It helps us feel seen.

That brings me to doing my web series. Just last week I told my EP I think we should take me off the promotion. I shouldn’t star in it anymore. I am not attractive enough to engage people and they won’t want to watch a show with me as a love interest. She told me I’m not allowed to quit - so I’m still here. And she’s right of course. I’m not allowed to quit my own story. Especially when I created Late Bloomer for other women like me. I didn’t get to grow up seeing women like me get to be the lead, get to be loved without being mocked or their weight getting commented on, or being portrayed as completely desperate. I didn’t get to see women like me feel pretty. Free of judgement or shame and not waiting for permission to take up space not just in the world but in their own bodies. That they can, should, and will be loved and desired in all the ways they want. I want that for me and for those like me. I want to be part of changing the narrative.

Pretty and Body Privilege have always been a tool of the oppressor. A tool that has long worked on me and those around me. We as a culture and society can only work through these biases and emotions by acknowledging them and dismantling the systems that keep them in play. We need to talked about what we’ve been conditioned to see and interact with as beauty and how that influences our decisions. We need to question the environments and relationships we cultivate for those who are viewed in society as different than us.

That being said, I understand that I am not at the end of ugly spectrum. I understand while I may be fat, I’m still considered a small fat. I recognize that my appearance is still closer to the currently defined beauty standard than others. I understand that I benefit from a low level of pretty privilege in certain communities and settings. But the first step is talking about all of this. Recognizing that moving through society looks completely different and unique for all of us and that this topic is often difficult to discuss.

I know I usually try to end these on at least a slightly hopeful note. But I don’t think I have one today. Except, to say that, for myself, I am working towards body neutrality. I have always been someone who sees beauty in others. Particularly Black women because I find our beauty to be unmatched. But never for myself. The idea of body positivity used to entice me but it still held the idea of achieving a level of beauty and confidence that I may not reach. But body neutrality is a practice rooted in the idea of being grateful for this body, my body. This body that wakes me up in the morning and takes me from place to place. That allows me to grow in all the shapes and sizes I need it to. It is the God-blessed vessel that carries me through life and for that I can be grateful.

For me, this is not the end of the conversation on this topic. I’m hoping that it will be the start of several more.

Some Recommendations:

Hunger by Roxane Gay

Belly of the Beast by Da’Shaun L. Harrison

Black AF History by Michael Harriot

If Pretty is a Privilege, Ugly is a Curse