What do I think it means to be beautiful?

Miss Jenkins of Rewriting Herstory has posed this question, and I think it sounds like a good thing to talk about, but before I share my thoughts, I want to share hers with you, because they're inspiring:

"Eventually, I realized that my outward appearance was a reflection of how I felt about myself.
Beauty is a combination of attitude and appearance.
Sure, physical beauty is a noticeable attribute based on appearance alone. But when I think about the people I consider “beautiful,” he or she usually carries him or herself in a way that makes you feel good when you are around them. Even if their outward appearance isn’t billboard worthy, so to speak, people usually enjoy their presence because of something that you can’t usually put into words. They look good partly because they exude a positive attitude and confidence.
It’s about how you feel about yourself.
I used to be kinda miserable. Complaining wasn’t hard for me to do. I could find a reason to criticize even positive experiences. I still have my moments, but I’m working on it. When I look at back it, I was mostly reflecting how I felt about myself. I would constantly criticize myself. I didn’t enjoy simple things, like going shopping with my friends because I hated to try on clothes (and because I was usually broke). I didn’t like shopping because I didn’t think anything could make me look good. I didn’t think anything could make me look good because I wasn’t as pretty as they were. I wasn’t as pretty as they were because something was wrong with me.
I’m learning to do away with those self-damaging thoughts about myself. I’m not weighed down by as many of them anymore. And people have noticed. I have gotten compliments about how much better I look. But it’s not because my wardrobe has significantly changed. I haven’t gained or lost a significant amount of weight. I haven’t had any physical work done. I’ve only done work on and for myself. I’m starting to appreciate what makes me beautiful on the inside and I’m learning to let it show." --Miss Jenkins

*a round of applause for her accepting her own fly-ness* 

I know that this struggle to see your own reflection as beautiful or to accept other people's suggestion that you are beautiful runs rampant amongst women who don't fit the media's image of beauty MOST WOMEN. Maybe you're a woman of color. Maybe your size isn't a single digit (double zeros, you are not included in this sympathy group). Maybe you don't have long silky wavy hair. Maybe your skin tone isn't even or you're prone to breakouts or you're just "plain". Maybe you are a human walking around in the real world rather than an airbrushed/Photoshopped image in a magazine. And whatever one or combination of these you are, you subsequently grew up thinking there was something "wrong" with you. You started brushing it off or being embarrassed when someone called you "beautiful," because they had to be just taking pity on you or trying to make you feel better. I think the thing most women (most people, I'm sure, but "beauty" is generally female territory) are raised to have in common is insecurities that could eat us alive. 

And the cold hard truth is that insecurity is not beautiful. When your insecurities are ruling you, you don't walk in beauty. You hide your smile behind your hands. You try to dress how you think you're supposed to dress, rather than adhering to your own personal style. You use make-up to hide rather than to accentuate. Generally, you are afraid to own the things that make you unique. A guy once told me that confidence makes a woman sexy, and I think something similar can be said about what makes women beautiful. I think it's hard, if not impossible, for a woman who does not love herself to feel beautiful. Maybe she can feel hot, or sexy, or desirable, or cute, but so much of beauty dwells in self-acceptance.

That's not to say there's no room for self-improvement in the quest to find your own beauty. Quite the opposite, in fact--I think people who love themselves must always want to better themselves; when you love someone, don't you want to encourage them to be the person they can be?  If you're overweight, wanting to lose weight doesn't mean you hate yourself, or that you think your current body is anything but beautiful. It just means you recognize that healthy is beautiful too. Even more of a sidenote: I can't stand people who criticize women who "go natural" but still wear makeup or perfume or eat things that aren't organic--I didn't say I was purifying my entire existence.

Society tries to say beauty is a physical thing, but I say beauty manifests itself in physical ways. Anyone can look put together. People are randomly born with perfectly symmetrical faces. Lots of people work really hard to have tiny waists, and some don't have to work hard at all. But I think the people who focus on biological/physical/external beauty like that are focused on something that is ephemeral and will inevitably fade as you get older (even if by the time we're 80, anti-aging everythings have made 80 the new 30). Beauty like that is...vapid. It's 2-D. It's...pretty. I think beauty is the antithesis of pretty. "Pretty" is a qualifier. If your teacher says the class average on an exam was "pretty good," you are less relieved than if he said the average was "good." "You did __insert thing here__ pretty well, but..." is a common phrase. "Pretty" might as well be regarded as a euphemism for "not quite good enough," "close, but no cigar", or "can be settled for but isn't the best it could be." "Pretty" is an insult.

 Coming back to what I'm supposed to be talking about here, I think beauty is walking with your head held high. It's letting your hips sway however they sway, not trying to put more into it or tone it down. Beauty is smiling wide enough to show the gap in your teeth, or not being embarrassed about having a loud laugh. Beauty is having style, with regards to your clothing, your mannerisms, your words, the whole package. Beauty is individuality rather than conformity. Beauty is being true to yourself, because truth is beautiful. Beauty is showing the world that you love and care about your whole self, rather than just your appearance. That once-over you give yourself in the mirror before leaving the house in the morning to make sure everything is in place is such a minor aspect of beauty, especially because you won't ever think everything is alright on the outside unless you have all those inner issues worked out.  I think beauty is a state of mind that your physical appearance adapts to represent, not the other way around.

Advice from Max

"...become a bit of an egomaniac. Just for a little while. Look at yourself in the mirror frequently and often and marvel at how fucking hawt you are. Wear tight clothes that show off your assets and assume that any negative feedback you get is just hating bitches hating. Strut around like your shit don’t stink. Constantly remind yourself how effing awesome you are and don’t let anything that happens convince you otherwise. If a girl looks at you sideways, it’s because she wishes she was you. A man rejects you? Because he’s not man enough to handle you. Just gas yourself up for a little while until you get to a point where your confidence is unshakeable. Because you need that to survive the dating game." -- Max, of max-logic

I think this applies to more than just the dating game--whenever shit is going badly, I just remind myself [okay, okay, with a little help from my friends (and India.Arie)]that I run dis shit, and then I keep it movin. She calls it egomania, Ev'Yan calls it narcissism, I call it loving yourself. Whatever you call it, don't forget to practice it, okay?   

2nd 30 Day Letter Challenge: Day 14--Letter to Your Favorite City

Dear Chicago,

I have to be honest, I was worried about meeting you. Before I left I wondered who I had become, how I could agree to spend so much time with you before I even knew you. I'd had bad experiences with cities before and didn't think I could grow to be that kind of girl. I'll admit it, I used to discriminate against cities; I talked shit about y'all all the time.
And then I met you...and for the first two weeks or so, I hated you. I was scared and I was lonely and I thought all my stereotypes about places like you were coming true. Then I stopped being a little bitch and decided to get out of my comfort zone of home and work, even if that meant exploring by myself, which was a RADICAL concept at the time. 
And a few weeks later, you had totally and completely enchanted me. Suddenly I was using Google Maps to take a series of trains and buses like you were my turf, exploring your countless festivals and street fairs and museums on free days. I went to your parks and swam in your lake--which, btw, totally revolutionized everything I thought of lakes as being--and made a bucket list I didn't come close to finishing. You gave me friendships like I'd never had before, showed me what happens when you play along with random somewhat sketchy guys you meet in public places, taught me to be entirely comfortable with public transportation (who knew you could like standing on the subway? It reminds me of what I imagine surfing would feel like...), gave me my first club experience, got me to experience art, and taught me to be less afraid of the dark. KO told me once about his "DC-face," a serious look he had to put on to ride the train to work in that city, and I guess you inspired something similar in me, Chicago: you taught me to look uncertainty in the face bravely. You taught me to make short-term plans and act on them. You taught me how not to look lost and how to understand North, South, East, and West finally. You taught me to be okay doing things by myself, which is invaluable. You also gave me the second experience of my life in which I was surrounded entirely by strangers and had to make friends. You introduced me to artisan jewelers, Arts Districts, FARMERS MARKETS, and taught me to make earrings and bracelets and to belly dance and to salsa and opened me to the fact that naturals had a real-world community off the internet. You gave me free concerts and strange pizza and Greek, Indian, and African foods for the first time. Oh and brie! You gave me a rich mentor who had a part-time apartment bigger than my house in NJ, along with my first country club experience and a VIP pass to visit the Natural History museum after-hours. You made me stop giving a shit about rain. You introduced me to BLACK schools with black teachers and staff, a concept that blew my mind. You got me to talk to high school kids without feeling totally awkward. You gave me my first real-world work experiences. For the first time in my life, I felt totally independent, and I will always treasure you for that.  You made me feel GROWN.
I can't wait to see you again, Chicago. I was so jealous when KO got to visit you. Perks of living in corn-country, I suppose. We will meet again. Maybe for grad school if I can build up a tolerance for snow...

Affectionately,

Maya

PS: Don't tell New Brunswick, but it just can't compare to you. 
PPS: Oh, how I wish I had been 21 when we were together... 

Summer is here! (I'm backkkk)

I did something totally and completely unheard of yesterday. Something I haven't done since the early days of high school sometime, when going to the beach/pool was a once-or-twice-a-summer occurrence and didn't really warrant any worrying or forethought. Something that even then, was only really done in front of my family, who wouldn't judge me too hard. 

I, Maya Reid, of sound mind and body, wore a two-piece bathing suit. And I'm not talking about a tankini or a little skirted thing--full on bright blue bikini. PUBLICLY. To the beach. In front of people I haven't seen in years and people I'm very close to. And total strangers I'll never see again. And besides being worried that every single wave was going to result in my boobs popping out of that halter top--(d-cup bikinis from dELIA*s are totally not designed for anyone with actual d-cups. Fyi. Anyone know where a busty woman can get a bikini that won't try to flash everyone as soon as it gets wet?), I wasn't nervous or embarrassed. I had brought along my old skirted one-piece in case I felt uncomfortable, but I never even thought about changing into it! And yeah, maybe the other girls who were with me in bikinis were skinny little athletic bitches, but it didn't matter. Because I felt comfortable in my own skin. And it has been a long time since I've been able to say that and really mean it.


I think the single most valuable thing that I've gained this semester/year/a little bit every day is confidence. It's the thing I remember lacking most severely in high school and one of the biggest changes I can see in myself over the last year or two. Emotionally, intellectually, physically...I'm not scared anymore. So what if I cry at everything and get emotionally attached ridiculously quickly? So what if my ideas don't match yours--the world would be boring if no one ever argued or played devil's advocate. So what if I'm not a size two and my hip bones don't protrude from my body like all the bikini models? All that stuff isn't me. I'm me. And I'm happy being me. I love me. And somebody else loves me. There's something about being loved like that that makes me feel beautiful in a way that can't be messed up by a lack of makeup or bed-head or an overabundance of curves--he's helped me bridge the gap between feeling like beauty is something I do and realizing that beauty is something I am. So if I had any haters yesterday, fuck y'all. I'm beautiful. 

Interview Hair

I have an interview today, in about an hour and a half, and all morning I've been really concerned about what I'm going to do with my hair. My mom says my natural curls are "cute", but not "professional" enough for an interview. She thinks I should comb it back into a ponytail so I don't come off as some kind of a radical. But what I don't think she understands is that this isn't some phase I'm going through or a style I'm into right now; this. is. my. hair. And this is how I'm going to wear it every single day I'm at work, so why lie to them in the beginning? If something as simple as the style of my hair can keep me from getting an internship at this company, then this company probably isn't a place I want to work for, now is it? I don't think so. So I will wear my hair the same way I do every day, out and free to be itself; how can I be confident enough to shake hands strongly, look my interviewer in the eye, and all the other points that win jobs if I'm not even confident enough to be myself? It just doesn't make sense. Love yourself first and the whole world will love you too, right?

Wish me luck!