Beauty
I’ve written about my issues with the fashion industry and the youth-beauty-worship culture before. The reason it’s on my mind is because I was watching a NYT-Discovery documentary about the battle of Islamic interpretation in Pakistan. The program, produced by a “secular� Muslim woman, showed her concerns over how radical Islam was slowly creeping into Pakistan’s progressive, secular Islamic society. Yeah, I know secular Islam is an oxymoron but that’s how she put it. While I found the whole program intriguing, there was a certain segment that stuck out for various reasons. The segment was when the reporter interviewed these Pakistani models in Lahore. They went on about how hijab is cultural (ie: Arab import) and that women shouldn’t hide behind it. That’s funny. I don’t consider myself hiding behind it, especially when I’m out in the world interacting with people. If anything, I’ve become more assertive, not passive, since I have to prove to others that this veil is just that–a veil–not a symbol of silent subjugation. I saw the runway show which was sad. I could just see Tyra Banks in the audience going, “No, she does not have that much make up on and why is Ms. Thang wearing that dress? She can’t wear that dress with her figure. And girly, they want sex appeal not porn!� Some of them did have on heavy make-up (black lipstick) and maybe that is appealing to their market but in America, the current look is clean and natural. Of course the lone, educated niqaabi Muslima was depicted as weak!
But I know about the lure of the fashion industry because at one time, I wanted to be a part of it. For a split second, I wanted to be a fashion designer. My folks purchased this clothing kit for me one Christmas that came with a human stencil. At first, I started using the kit to create clothes that I saw on the box. Eventually, I got rid of the kit, kept the stencil and started doing my own stuff. It was something I did off and on for years and I was really inspired by Elle Magazine. We used to have a subscription for about 3 or 4 years. It helped me draw clothing and people a little bit better since I could just copy their faces. Eventually, I got out of it. My heart wasn’t in it and being a fine artist seemed to be a more attractive career (what was I thinking?).
Over the years, the magazine layout started to change. The models were getting thinner and thinner. There were always few women of color and the few they showed were Black Americans–no Latinas, Asians or Africans yet. The classical movie star look was being eclipsed by the bony, waify nymph. Now I was being subjected to the blank stares of Kate Moss. We eventually ended the subscription. But that whole world seemed desirable and glamourous and an artist like me could fit in with the other misfits of the art-fashion world. It was all rich, stylish and trendy and only when I got older did I see some of the emptiness in it all.
Upon looking at me, I guess one could claim that my aversion to the fashion industry and youth-beauty-worship culture is for the obvious reasons. Islam forbids it. Yeah, I know Muslim fashion models will tell you otherwise and I will believe them the day they can quote one verse from the Qur’an in Arabic. I just noticed that those who say Islam is this and that are usually the ones who can’t pull out one verse or one hadith to prove it. If you can give me one verse from the Qur’an that says that straddling a pool table topless for a photo shot is halal, I’ll give you at least two verses, 33:59 and 24:31, that says it not. If you want to do that, fine, just don’t say it’s Islamic.
But that’s only part of my reasons. My theory is that beauty is being commodified and diefied to such an extent, that women are doing horrible things to their bodies in order to obtain it. Before the fashion industry, a fairly new phenomenon that humans lived without centuries, women for the most part, were expected to live up to their own particular standard of beauty. For example, in traditional Muslim cultures, because women were veiled, men could not compare and contrast. Men only saw the full beauty of their close relatives and the only woman that they would ever see nude would be their wife. It’s hard to wish your wife looked like so-and-so when you don’t really know what so-and-so looks like. You could only guess. Only rich caliphs and sultans could afford to have wives and concubines, but for the average lower or middle class Muslim man, his wife was his only frame of reference. Polygamy, while sanctioned under certain circumstances in Islam, never became the norm in Muslim history. It was always, as it remains to this day, the exception. A Muslima was expected to look her best, not Fatima’s or Layla’s best.
European culture was different because the female nude has always been an object of worship. The Venus model has always been a source of inspiration for the European artist. But once again, polygamous, though unrecognized relationships, were always something of the elite. Only a king could marry a queen and keep mistresses on the side. The common peasant couldn’t afford it. The common peasant couldn’t afford a decent prostitute and was better off saving his money for marriage. And Venus was beautiful because she was plump, round, chubby and buxom. The waif woman would have turned off the average European male. In many traditional cultures, it was the large woman that was revered. Some psychologists say that her beauty was all about her reproductive abilities and that women with large child bearing hips and huge breasts were considered desirable. Yeah, “Venus� remained a big woman for centuries, proud of her thick thighs and cellulite. And this “Venus� model seems almost universal. I’ve read some texts on ancient Indian culture describing the perfect woman as having thighs like trees, bellies like domes and breasts so huge that she could barely carry them. In many parts of Africa, round wide bottons are still desired.
But today, with traditional sexual mores thrown out the window, men now have visual and often times, physical access to all kinds of women. It was once forbidden to see a woman nude before marriage. Now you can see any woman you want at your local gas station for $5.99 an issue. And what’s best is that she doesn’t talk, respond or think. She pleases. She stares vacantly while the man is allowed to imprint his fantasy over her. And now we women, who are flesh and bone, have to compete with a woman who doesn’t exist beyond the glossy paper she’s printed on. The previous beauty of the Venus was attainable. You don’t have to work hard to get cellulite. If you didn’t get it before having children, you certainly got it afterwards. Previously, when men’s frames of reference were quite limited, he could admire every aspect of his wife’s beauty because they were uniquely hers. Her hair, eyes, nose, skin color and face were perfect just for her and he’s looking at her through the eyes of love which veils bodily imperfections.
Now…every man can have his own personal goddess to compare and contrast us mere mortals. In the past when I had a fair amount of male friends, they would actually ask me why I didn’t dress like some singer or model. That’s just their way of bringing their fantasy to life. “You’re just jealous because she’s pretty and talented,� they would say. Well, if that’s the case, why are you in my face bugging me?! If I’m so plain and ugly, why talk to me, call me, or hang around me? And when I did venture out of my frumpy clothes and get all fancy for some party, that male buddy all of sudden started giving me the googie eye. Like “wow, you’re like, all feminine and stuff.� Best buddy female friend is now transformed into beauty queen-goddess and he can’t handle it. Of course, when ladies start talking about the latest actor or sports star, we hear the moans and groans of, “Man, stop sweatin’ him. He ain’t all that and he’s probably gay.� Men and women can be very childish sometimes.
I rebelled against this thinking in high school and college by doing what any feminist artist would do. I painted the male nude. Yep, in my high school art class, I was sick of the idea of looking at, analyzing and drawing female nudes. I figured, Hey, I’ll exploit you guys and see how you like it. The painting wasn’t too bad. It was actually a rendering of a perfume ad from a magazine. The girls loved it, the boys hated it and my teacher just brushed it off. I did it again my sophomore year of college. It was a rendering of a torso. The females and even some males loved it because of the color scheme. My professor called it “cliched.� All I could think was, “Dude, what’s more cliched than a painting of a nude woman?� Well, I don’t do that stuff anymore and nudity was never my thing. And may God forgive me for painting that stuff. I just didn’t understand the appeal of it and I’ve always thought that a clothed human was more interesting.
But that’s the current trend now. Every women is expected to live up to the blond, blue-eyed, tall leggy model. And the most beautiful woman is the one who is closest to this standard. If you’re Black, you can perm your hair, get light colored contacts and blond extensions. You can literally become the Barbie doll dipped in chocolate. If you’re Asian, you can get surgery done on your eyes. If your Arab or Persian, you can get your nose done. If you’re Indian, use skin lightening cream and the list goes on and on. If you’re short, well, you’re just done for. And we can’t blame men because we women are the consumers who buy into this culture on a daily basis. I wouldn’t find anything wrong with the fashion industry if models were a diverse mix of large and small, petite and plump, tawny skin and dark skin. But often times, the women can be of different races and yet they all look the same. You can’t tell the Indian from the African-American. They’re pushing a monoculture standard of beauty that less than 1% of the world’s female population can attain and that’s unfair. What to do, what to do, what to do?!
Some good news: Women, no matter what shape, size or color have always been the most beautiful half of the human species. That’s just the way it is and God gave us that advantage over men. While a handsome man and keep a woman’s attention, I’ve seen men trip, scream, hoot, holler, almost get run over by cars, break power tools, drop their food, get into car accidents and go plum nuts over a woman. It’s happened to all of us girls. We were just minding our business and some dude goes crazy. You weren’t even trying to look good the day some dude ran into a wall because he was so distracted by your beauty. How many women follow men up the street begging them for their phone number or tell ridiculous lies to impress someone? I’ve seen men show off and pretend to be something they’re not all for a woman. Why some women aren’t using that to their advantage is beyond me. Why some women are giving themselves too quickly to these men without them working for it is something I don’t get. We really don’t know much power we have in this department and quite frankly, the commercialization of women has stolen that. Women’s beauty is no longer sacred, it’s a commodity to be bought and sold.
Of course, I think we all notice those little things like unwanted hair or extra weight around the belly but I do think love kinda shields a little bit of it for us.
