MY BODY IS NOT A CANVAS
Make-up,
jewelley, hair extensions – many a woman's favourite things –
just not mine.
My
mother started relaxing my hair when I was five years old, I started
using weave and extensions around about the the same age and me being
the only Italian-Nigerian girl in all my classes, I remember at
school all the Italian girls were trying to touch my extensions,
feeling the texture of my synthetic hair in wonder as if I was an
alien. And in some ways I was alien, because I was not something that
they were used to.
Whereas
I was jealous of their long, lush, silky hair that they could just
tuck behind their ears if their unruly manes was getting in the way.
For some reason I was so damn obsessed with being able to tuck my
hair behind my ears and whenever I used to get singles done on my
hair I would look in the mirror smiling at myself, because I too
could tuck my hair behind my ears, and I too could have it in a
ponytail if I wanted, or a bun - I could do whatever I wanted,
because it was long enough.
And
for many years that made me ashamed of my short, picky-picky, African
hair that failed to grow past the length of my neck.
Speaking
of hair extensions, some time ago, I watched a documentary on the
news channel Al Jazeera called ''Hair India” centred around a poor
family who cut off their hair at the temple and sacrificed it to
their gods. The temple sold their locks to European hair extension
companies who supplied to affluent customers, ready to pay good money
for human hair.
Now
spiritually speaking, and of course many will think it not to be a
big deal but for me, something that has been sacrificed to other gods
does not dwell well with me. Not that I'm against extensions entirely
– but people should be careful what they attach to their hair and
who they allow to touch their head.
I
faintly remember when my babysitter used a needle to pierce my ears.
I remember it. It was painful but in my parent's eye it was necessary
pain – it was for my own good. Just like the hundreds of little
faded incision scars resting on my parents' body that their parents
said despite their cries – would be for their own good – for the
protection of the gods would be on them from henceforth.
Now
obviously people would look at the latter and say, that that was just
pure cruelty to subject a three/four year old child to unwarranted
mutilation of their skin, but I could just argue the same for ear
piercings.
Recently,
I read a beautifully written essay, by Bertie Brandes, 'Pay and Display' and I wholefully agreed at what she said about how beauty is
the “end product of a series of culturally enforced routines.”
It
is part of the culture. It is so much ingrained into the
culture that with all the myriad of make-up and hair tutorials and
shopping haul videos on Youtube and fashion and lifestyle blogs gives
one the impression that every female on the planet must be into all
those things. So even when I myself come across someone who is not
into all those things it's almost a shock to the system because a lot
of the times I feel like I'm the only girl in the world who is like
that.
It
goes without saying that the big influence in me being so opposed to
all those typically feminine things is due to my upbringing in a
Pentecostal Church that discouraged the use of any cosmetic products,
hair extensions or jewellery.
I
didn't realise it then, but now I realise that it had been the first
time I wasn't hiding from who I was physically. And personally I
think it's sad that so many children are subconsciously and
consciously taught to hide and be repellent of their genetic make-up
by the media, friends, parents and inevitably themselves.
I
published 'The Untitled Girl', because I was fifteen and I was so
uncomfortable with how I looked and I hoped somehow, someway it would
help inspire and empower other girls my age to not put stock on their
looks but onto who they were as people.
The
girls who I went to school with will say that I look the same
(granted I may have put on weight here and there). I never have gone
through that 'evolution' stage appearance-wise where I find a
thousand places on my body where I can fit metal pieces or decide to
style or dye my hair differently (though I did briefly think about
colouring it grey).
In
other words, I stay looking 'basic' and I love it.
When
it came to my prom, my sister who can barely understand why I choose
to stay looking so 'basic', forced me to put on foundation, eye
shadow, lip gloss, then next earrings and lastly some clip on weave.
![]() |
Me all 'Prom and Proper' |
I
thought I looked really ugly but when I got to my prom my classmates
were pleasantly surprised by how diffent I looked but despite the
positive feedback I couldn't have been more eager to wipe the make-up
off when I returned home.
To
be honest – and I may get some flack for this and frankly I don't
care – but a lot of people look like clowns when they wear make-up
– and that's including myself. My body is not a canvas that needs
to be painted on – it's already painted – dark brown.
This
is why I adore Bob Marley and Nina Simone, because they were both so
proudly rugged. Bob Marley would walk up on stage with a pair of
jeans and shirt that for all I know he picked up from his dirty
laundry and Nina – she was a queen who didn't need a crown to prove
it.
Roman
philosopher Plautus said, “A woman without paint is like food
without salt.”
There
are so many things strikingly wrong with that statement, but I'd
focus on the most obvious one: What do females mean when they use
artificial products and say it is to “enhance” their features?
Do
the features that we are born with enhance, age or do we just
mutilate it and justify our actions by saying ''we're just looking
good for ourselves'' therefore it's not for vanity?
Whilst
you ponder on that question, I'm going to tell you a little story.
About
two years ago, a few of my friends and I were going for a night out
to a club that my friend had gone before with a different group of
friends. This high-end club has many well-known celebrities frequent
there but my friend knew one of the promoters who said was going to
get all of us free entry and a table inside.
When
it came our turn to be let in – to cut the story short – we
didn't get in. I'm going to paraphrase the reply the promoter texted
my friend: Sorry but those are not Dstrkt type of girls.
Immediately,
I knew that the promoter was referring to me, as I was the one
without make up, no false hair, or even a touch of jewellery to
compliment my outfit or face. And I'll add dark- skinned too but I'm
not even going to get into that.
Next
time when my friend wanted to go to the same club with her other
friends, the promoter demanded that my friend send pictures of each
of the girls to determine, I guess, if they were “Dstrkt type of
girls”.
And
of course, they were given entry.
In
my humble opinion I think that's completely fucked up.
Why
is that such a big deal? Aren't we all born fresh-faced?
I'm
just that girl who would rather sleep an extra hour than get her hair
and face looking “proper” for work.
I'm
just that girl who tends to be the first one ready out of her friends
for a night out because I'm not standing infront of the mirror
contouring my face.
I'm
just that girl.
But
the pressure to achieve these Euro-centric standards of beauty is
more pronounced when I can't even go to any chain-supermarkets and be
able to purchase hair shampoo for my type of hair, instead I have to
make a separate shopping trip.
Or,
I can't turn the pages of popular magazines without seeing the token
dark-skinned model with straight hair or if the creative directors,
or whoever is in charge of the shoot, are taking a trip to the wild
side they might just have the model rocking her natural curls in an
afro.
And
it's only when a female celebrity posts a picture of themselves
without make-up as some feminist social statement that others feel
inspired to join in and post their make-upless selfies.
But
wouldn't it be so much better if the effort and money and time we put
into making ourselves 'look good' on the outside was put into making
our souls better?
The
only “cosmetic” product I can spend good money on would be
perfumes – like think about it, you would be more likely to sit
next to a woman who was bare-faced but smelt real good than a woman
with a pancaked face but smelt awful.
And
this is my ending note: Looks do not last, but the scent of a woman
lingers on.
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