the irrelevance of being “pretty”
By: S. Kermani
Tags: Writing, Self Esteem, Social Media, Beauty, Confidence

Let’s be fully transparent here: all women are not created in equal prettiness.

It’s not realistic. It’s not feasible. And it doesn’t at all diminish the beauty of every individual woman because I believe there’s a massive difference between the two. Pretty is purely physical and what is deemed societally attractive vs. beauty which is subjective, factors in the whole package (character, humor, values, quirks) and is more lasting.

Coming to terms with my own appearance and how it might be perceived, I’m content and accepting of where I fall on the scale now. But in middle school, high school and even parts of college, I deeply craved validation in the most superficial of terms. I got giddy over my first time reaching 100 likes on Instagram (*gags*). I would ask others if I was pretty, or I would say I was ugly just to have those around me refute it. Mostly though, I dwelled on those who failed to notice me, adequately value me or overlook me for someone skinnier, taller or all-around hotter.

Over the years it seemed clear by observation that there was something called “pretty privilege”: those who were easy on the eyes usually got the time of day and a real chance at building close relationships. I noticed male teachers favoriting the better-looking students and casting aside the ones with the better work ethic. I started to feel the blow when guys of my own ethnic background kept rejecting me as a marital prospect once we exchanged pictures and struggling with themselves because they “really liked talking to me.” I grew jaded towards friends who never cared as much as I did, never invested as much or made as much effort.

I knew I had a world to offer, but it was hiding behind a plain face.

I internalized the words of honest, well-intentioned people who said that I was pretty but not “traditionally pretty.” Or that it was my “personality paired with the look” that ultimately made me so. Once it came to my attention that my personality was the ticket, I waved it around for free, advertised it to anyone who’d listen. I was an open book, ready to bare my soul, crack some jokes, serve as a trusted confidante and advisor — be as me as possible — just so people would finally look at me like I was something special. Other girls could walk by without having to say as much as a hello and they would already have what I tirelessly worked for. People would approach them, pursue them, but that was never an experience I related to. I felt like, in a delicate sense, I needed to shove myself in people’s faces in order for them to realize my worth.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, I got the validation I wanted. Someone would be having a conversation with me and I’d suddenly see it on their face: that lightbulb moment, that “Oh, you actually are pretty” moment. But it never felt enough. I didn’t want it after months or years of someone knowing me. I wanted it at first sight.

Somewhere along the way I found confidence in less shallow things: developing a purpose for my life, having a productive and consistent routine, leaning into my interests and God-given talents, and persevering through the struggles that molded me into a person of substance. I am beautiful because I am well-rounded.

I also retreated from social media, which helped my self image tremendously. Our vanity-obsessed Instagram culture drills our already inherent desire to look attractive and garner positive attention in overdrive. The perfect smiles, witty captions, “effortless” poses became too much for me. Too overstimulating. Too suffocating. Too typical. I’d go to events and see girls clumped together for pictures here and a one-woman photoshoot there. It was too vain, even for me. I stopped caring about posting, “cleaned out” who I followed and added accounts that focused on educational and spiritual reminders that could better me as a person. Things I could read, absorb, implement and share with others. I figured that if social media was too deeply integrated in my daily life and I couldn’t find the strength to permanently delete it all and disengage, that I could use it for good instead. Though it’s still a vortex of soul-sucking, time-wasting, mindless scrolling, I try to keep my intentions pure: whatever I come across and post, I want it to have merit. A small trail of wisdom that can remain even after I die — something that can widen my grave and elevate my status in the next life. This motive is what keeps me able to sanely participate.

Now I look back and see how much being considered pretty never really mattered. Whoever was too shallow to see me, hear me, love me only skin-deep showed their true colors and are no longer in my life. Whatever I yearned for I ended up getting in due time. No blessing — whether it was a degree, a job, financial/emotional/spiritual stability or a loving support system — was blocked from me.

Thanks be to God I wound up having everything I needed.