Up-Leveling Likes

Words By Elisabeth Hower | March 16 2021

A stranger sent me a direct message to suggest I find a “real nice photographer” because the images on my Instagram wall didn’t do me “justice.” Before I go on, clock your initial reaction to this comment. Got it? I had a few in rapid succession, but my very first was fascinating: I felt guilty. I had let him down. What photos was he looking at? And were they disappointing? Was I? My mind reeled as I scrambled to see what was so offensive he decided totake the time to tell me that I’m not as pretty as he thought I was.

Frustratingly for my inner feminist, upon first glance at my recent posts, I agreed with him. This stranger had enjoyed my performance on a television show in which I wore lingerie in a few scenes, and in which I had a professional hair, make-up, and lighting team working for my benefit. As I recall, one of the wardrobe assistants was on “nipple duty” due to the silicone cutlets placed strategically beneath my breasts, pushing them up more than Victoria ever thought possible. Because I had presented that way once or twice, did that mean I had to… always? It reminded me of a documentary I watched that followed two women pursuing plastic surgery to, quite literally, look like their FaceTuned selves. They didn’t want to meet those they’d met online in person until they were “corrected,” for fear of not being accepted. One of them opted for a non-surgical route using fillers that will absorb and need to be replaced every 4-6 months… at anywhere from $500-1000 a pop.

It’s clear the man that wrote me did not understand the implications of his words, nor does he understand the culture that’s taught him women are most valued for their beauty; a woman that isn’t showcasing that always is actually doing self- harm. His intention was to encourage me to display my physical appearance with confidence, to, “share it with the world,” when he’s actually saying I’ve fallen short of the standards he has for me. Which is a shame because if only I met them I might have more… attention? money? career heights? Where was my gratitude for him saving me from myself?

Until recently, I might have swallowed my reaction. Kept silent. Absorbed it and the accompanying shame. Thankfully, the increasing volume of women’s voices the last few years have made it abundantly clear how out of date these kinds of comments are. We’re no longer letting things slide. We’re finally, consistently, saying, “F%&#! ENOUGH.” I didn’t need to explain anything to my female friends, I simply relayed the message. Some of my “woke” male friends, however, still labeled it “innocuous.” So many of us still, including myself to a large degree, are completely unaware of the culture of consumption that creates these types of thoughts in the first place, let alone the sense of entitlement to share them with a complete stranger. Haven’t we yet learned that it’s ridiculous to suggest the most important attribute a woman holds is her beauty? And that it’s equally egregious to submit that if she doesn’t highlight that to the fullest extent, she’s missing an opportunity to be VALUED? According to his comment, to do myself “justice” — in other words, according to Google, “to perform as well as one is able to” (in life? as an actress? a woman?) requires leaning into the most conventional and commercially accepted ideas of beauty that I can squeeze into, and also purports that’s what I want people to most value about me. Forget everything else. Best to curate (censor) myself. Best to find a photographer who can light me perfectly. Hide the rest away, unfit for my wall. Unfit for consumption. Why would I do myself the disservice of posting simply when I’m happy? When I feel beautiful? Or silly, or vulnerable, or messy? That’s not on-brand, I suppose…

It seems there’s never a moment wherein women are allowed to rest the standards of beauty to which we’re often forced to ascribe in order to be “successful” in life. If I can’t go through a day without make up now, during a pandemic, when life has been fully and utterly disrupted, then when? We live in a world both of deep disconnection to each other and our real value, as well as being deeply, intimately connected to the culture that tells us we are not enough.

Before you say, “just ignore messages like this, don’t look at them,” consider this: it’s impossible. The messaging about how women are treated based on their looks, youth, sex appeal is as pervasive to our days as the air we breathe. Be beautiful, but let us imagine that’s how you wake up. Be perfect, and don’t go outside unless you’ve #fixedit. Otherwise we’ll be disappointed in you and withhold the rewards we’ve promised you. And, by the way, if you are aesthetically appealing, regardless of the effort required, there’s a great possibility we won’t take you seriously, because after all, you’re just so pretty.

A few weeks ago I was playing tourist for a day with a friend in Solvang, California. A tiny, Danish-inspired wine destination. Strolling by a beauty supply shop, a sales rep, we’llcall him Johnny, offered free samples of a “lifechanging” cream. Sure it was likely snake oil, but what the hell. And then suddenly, undeterred by my mask, his unwashed hands were touching my skin, applying a potion of which I knew none of the ingredients. He told me I’m beautiful, but “could be so much more,” all the while I just stood there, feeling wildly uncomfortable, wondering why on earth I didn’t back away. (Any woman reading this knows: because we’re taught to be polite. Wasn’t I over that by now?) “Don’t you want to look twenty-two?” Johnny asked rhetorically, holding the shiny red bottle of self-esteem, a commodity, easy to purchase. “You know, Johnny,” I said finally, stepping away, “I’m all full up on my worth. But thank you.” Not knowing what else to do, he simply offered, “Uh… have a good day.” And you know? I really did.