A Letter to My Future Daughter on Beauty in America
Words and Image by Erin Mina Barber
My beautiful daughter,
I still cannot believe the blessing that I received on the day you were born. You brought a completely new light and purpose into my life. It’s like I was seeing the world in grayscale and suddenly it’s burst into luminous color.
I see you for who you are, your potential and your inherent beauty.
I wish the world could see you through my eyes.
I wish you could see yourself through my eyes too.
What I see is luminous, lustrous brown skin pulled taut over a soft and strong body. My fingers trace the curve of your cheek over and over again as if to memorize its exact slope. When I bury my nose in your marshmallow belly and I inhale, I swear it’s as if love had a scent.
And when I run my hands over your thick dark coils, it feels like every strand of hair has a story 1,000 centuries long. This amazing, forested crown is perfectly engineered to provide shelter from the sun and protection from the cold. Not to mention it adorns your face and complements your smile perfectly.
And while I love the way you look, think, and feel, here you are wishing you could change exactly these things. That hurts me so, because you are beauty personified. But it hurts more because I understand why you want to change these things—because our world and larger society have poisoned your mind to have you believe that you are not beautiful.
Let me explain:
When you step outside of the four walls of our home, you are met with subtle and overt messaging.
The message is if you are thin and White with long straight hair (preferably blonde straight hair) and a certain bust to hip ratio, you are beautiful. If your body is anything outside of these characteristics, well, you are undesirable, ugly, second-class.
This messaging is everywhere. Stepping into a Victoria’s Secret franchise, watching a James Bond movie or an episode of Friends, simply opening a Cosmo magazine—what have you seen? What has the world taught you?
This body is sexy.
This is the woman who deserves the man.
These are the women we should idolize.
There is no room for ‘other’ kinds of people in this group of friends.
And all of this boils down to our very limited definition of beauty in America.
When you ask me to take you to the hair salon because you want to dye your hair a prettier, ‘lighter’ color. When you tell me that you aren’t eating anymore carbs because you “need” to lose weight around your middle. When you come crying and curling yourself up in my lap because you are convinced that the reason you don’t have a boyfriend is that you are ugly.
These are the moments when my heart truly breaks.
These are the moments when I know that our society, and the ‘societal norms’ that we all prescribe to, are sick.
Twisting the minds of intelligent, strong, empathetic, complex, and beautiful women, they implant an ugly little voice in our brains. It whispers constantly:
“You are too fat.”
“You are too thin.”
“Get breast implants, then you’ll be sexy.”
“Lose 20 pounds, then you’ll be happy.”
“Straighten your hair, curls are too wild and too unruly.”
“Go blonde, everyone knows blonde is beautiful.”
“Your skin is too uneven. Too brown. Too black.”
“You are nothing. You are no one. You are ugly the way you are.”
And despite my best efforts of filling our home with my love for you, which is infinite. Despite me plastering your bedroom walls with images of worthy, empowered, and beautiful women—women like Michelle Obama, Maya Angelou, Zozibini Tunzi, Misty Copeland, Wangari Maathai, and Yara Shahidi. Despite me making sure that the dolls in your dollhouse were of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Despite me trying to be your example, modeling that a Black woman can be educated, kind, compassionate, adventurous and free, outspoken, loved and loving, the world has convinced you otherwise.
And when you come home, back into this four-walled space so full of love for you, unsatisfied with your appearance, crying in pain, my heart splits in two.
I could not protect you from society’s poisonous rhetoric on beauty. And I’m sorry. Mommy is so sorry.
I wish the world could see you through my eyes. Eyes that see such lustrous brown skin. A perfectly curved cheek. The softest, sweetest smelling belly. Dark hair that is thick, blessed with an ancient nobility. Coils that gracefully spring from your head to wrap around your face much like trees grow from the forest floor, healthy, nourished, and silently proud.
While my heart hurts for you, for what you feel as a woman of color, there is still a twinkle of hope in my heart that you will, one day, see yourself through my eyes.
And maybe so will our society.
Though the standard of beauty is one that is constructed and learned it can also be unlearned, broken down, broken through.
While the cloud of constraint that equates Whiteness and thinness with goodness and beauty still, barriers have been broken. These barriers continue to be broken down every day and this helps make many types of women feel seen, represented, and therefore beautiful. I hope you will feel that way too.
In 2020, representations of women of color and women of all sizes are becoming, slowly but surely, more and more prevalent. In numerous TV series, lead actresses break barriers in terms of size and color. There are now series and films with entirely non-White casts portraying women outside of the ‘beauty norm’ in meaningful and heartfelt ways.
In this modern age, love is becoming more and more diverse. Interracial relationships and marriages are at an all-time high of 15% in the US, proving that beauty truly is subjective and love knows no bounds.
We see all sorts of women in positions of power in corporate America, in political organizations, and educational institutions proving that their leadership is their beauty.
So I’m sorry I could not protect you from the poisonous beauty standards which have led you to believe you are anything less than the highly intelligent, worthy, and breathtakingly beautiful person that you are.
But I still have hope that as you continue to grow, as beauty standards are shattered and re-written, as I continue to give you every ounce of my love, you will eventually see yourself through my eyes.
And here is what my eyes see:
They see you for who you are and for your potential and your inherent beauty.
Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day, I have hope that you will see that too.
Love,
Mom
About the Author:
Erin is a life-liver, writer, innovator, and dreamer with an immense love for people, storytelling, music, and dogs. She lives in Germany and has a B.A. from the University of California, Santa Barbara in Film, Media, English and Communication and an MBA in Media Management from Cardiff University in Wales.
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