Just Not My Type

By Ashanthi Francis

I’d never describe myself as someone’s “type.” This observation isn’t grounded by my perception of my own attractiveness. It’s also not some weird, selfdeprecating ploy for compliments. I simply believe that no one would describe me as their ideal physical partner.

This seems like a trivial thought. As someone who is well-versed in feminist perspectives, publicly admitting that I am concerned if people find me attractive is embarrassing. I’ve taken enough gender studies courses and have read enough #selflove captions on Instagram to understand that beauty is a social construct. I am not obligated to be beautiful, nor do I owe my appearance to anyone. Sure, dating might be more difficult, but attractiveness is superficial. This is why we are constantly reassured that it’s what’s on the inside that’s important, and that physical attractiveness is irrelevant compared to other facets of our identity. I understand the purpose of giving advice like this - I just wish it were true.

Ultimately, the questions of who we want to date, and whether people want to date us, subconsciously impact the trajectory of our lives. There will always be an element of subjectivity associated with our preferences, however, desire is political. We cannot pretend that our barometers of attractiveness are not influenced by our understanding of society. If the world is constantly telling us that we need to be skinnier, prettier, whiter, or more palatable, it’s foolish to assume that our dating preferences are untouched by these standards.

Desire is a form of It not only currency in our lives. determines who we date, but who we are friends with, who we are associated with, and who we want to be seen with. For those who are unable to live up to cultural expectations of attractiveness, the consequences are serious. Desire is the elixir that dictates how we treat one another. It influences our decisions to start conversations with strangers, or say

‘thank you’ when someone holds open the door. It impacts how hirable we are, the opportunities we’re given, and the ease with which we’re able to move through life.

When we consider someone as an ideal dating candidate, we are affirming their worth.

Still, it’s difficult to say whether the idea of having a “type” is inherently problematic. In many cases we cannot control who we find attractive. Issues only begin when our dating preferences become a method of stratification. Matters of opinion creep into the normalization of things like racism, fatphobia, and transphobia under the guise of “types.” It’s okay to “like who you like,” but, it’s crucial that we think about our “types,” and the ways in which these desires might manifest in the future. Preferences are not developed in isolation - they are inspired by our beliefs, perceptions, and most importantly, our personal politics. We must hold ourselves accountable for these preferences and recognize that our beauty ideals often come at the stake of another’s well-being. If we continue to believe that beauty is a product of personal taste, we overlook the ways we subconsciously categorize, disadvantage, and oppress others. Desire has little to do with feelings and more to do with a culture obsessed with exclusive definitions of beauty. Dating preferences may be a matter of opinion, but they are also powerful mechanisms that alienate those who fall outside of our range of appeal. We cannot control who we like, but we can control who we give a chance.

I would love to tell you an inspirational story about how I’ve learned to stop caring about whether or not people want to date me. That I radiate self-confidence, and refuse to let others’ desires impact how I live my life. Sadly, this story doesn’t exist. It’s impossible to eliminate the significance of preference in our lives. As someone whose identity is constantly at odds with society’s ever-changing ideas of beauty, I will always be hyper-aware of how others perceive me. Yet, I look forward to a time when I will not question others’ interest in me, and will feel confident in my appeal beyond a fetish or fantasy.

Though we may not have control over how others see us, we can take charge of how we see ourselves. You can surround yourself with people that make you feel good. You can support media outlets that champion alternative forms of beauty. Most importantly, you can teach yourself to believe that you are worthy of desire no matter what you look like. It’s not a perfect solution, and it’s certainly not a sustainable one, but it’s a necessary tool for surviving a culture that prospers by devaluing those of us who do not fit in.

It’s impossible to predict when this will happen, but I know change begins internally.