If beauty is only skin deep, what happens when you exfoliate?
I’ve got to say, one advantage that lesbians have over gay men is a lower level of obsessive body-consciousness in their quadrant of the LGBT community. That’s not to say that lesbians don’t take care of themselves, or care how they look. What that means is that lesbians tend to be more accepting of people as they are, by their own personal standards - rather than judging them by who they think they should be, according to some impossible ideal.
Gay men aren’t so forgiving. We’re obsessed with this culture of eternal youth and beauty; as always, this stereotype doesn’t apply to all gay men - just as the above statement doesn’t apply to all lesbians - but it’s still an annoyingly prevalent state that popular gay-themed media only reinforces. We have to be fashionable, we have to be beautiful, we have to be flawless. Perfect body, perfect teeth, perfect skin, perfect hair.
And you know, we’re real a**holes about it.
Nobody’s perfect, and the unrealistically high demands fostered by dating in the gay community can give a guy a serious complex. No doubt they’re a contributing factor to the startlingly high rate of eating disorders among gay men. Hell, I’ve even caught myself succumbing to the stereotype; I’ve been hit on by older guys, chubby guys, guys with less than optimally attractive facial features, and for a moment thought “Ugh, what does he think he’s doing trying to score with me?” [eyeroll] Like I’m some prize. Trust me, I’m not. Yes, I’m pretty; that’s not vanity, especially when “pretty” doesn’t necessarily translate into “attractive” in a man. It’s just the way things are. In fact, it’s a touch annoying and it’s not exactly something that brings me pride. I’m not perfect and I have no right to look down on someone who’s probably a great guy just because I happen to be a little prettier than the average male population.
Especially not when it’s been done to me, and I know exactly how it feels.
I’m flawed, both inside and out. I won’t pretend that I’m not. In some ways, I’m proud of some of my flaws, even if others - like the fact that being part Native and part black overrides Asian and Scottish genetics to leave me with dry, ripply hair that requires chemical straightening - drive me insane. One of my flaws is that my skin isn’t perfect. Thanks to climate and heritage, my skin gets oily and breaks out easily. I do the best I can to keep it from happening, and it’s rare now - and it never leaves scars. That wasn’t always true, though, and my upper arms are testament to that. Back when it was at its worst, my arms were left with a mottling of little brown scars on tanned skin that look almost like animal markings or the spots of a Trill (hello, inner geek coming out). They’re still there, although they fade more and more every year. I jokingly refer to them as my feral markings, and forget them otherwise. They don’t affect who I am. They don’t matter; they’re entirely superficial.
So, apparently, was this boy that I dated for a short time. We met in winter and I have a penchant for long sleeves anyway, so it was a few dates before he saw my naked arms. When he did…gods, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on his face. He recoiled in utter disgust, all over a few spots on my arms. He made excuses, left…and we broke it off a few days later. It could have hurt more; I could have been seriously attached to him, which would have made it even more painful. Even so, his reaction struck me pretty deeply. I felt disgusting, as if I were somehow unclean, not worth touching. I even considered listening to my sisters and their nasty comments about dermabrasion - a useless expense considering that the body tends to repair itself and will fade its own surface blemishes over the years.
All because of one shallow guy, a dirty look, and a few scars.
So I try to remember that guy when the older guy, the chubby guy, and the not-quite-perfect guy hit on me. No, they may not be my image of an ideal man (it’s so hard to find a tall, rangy geek-boy with hazel eyes and long, shaggy hair and cutely dorky glasses), but they’re worthwhile people who no doubt have far more to offer than just superficial appearances, and they don’t deserve to feel as if they don’t meet some standard. They’re no more flawed than I am, and no doubt they’re better people under the skin than those who proudly display their beauty.
In fact…if one stops to actually look at people originally discounted as unattractive, you may find them quite attractive after all. That geezer may have gorgeous eyes and a way of looking at you with sly confidence that can make you melt. The guy with the spare tire around the middle? Make him smile; I’ll bet the sweetness in that smile will capture your heart. The “ugly” guy? Not so ugly after all. Look at the strength in him, apparent in every line of his features, the way he moves. Look at the character reflected in their physical features, rather than focusing solely on the features themselves.
And remember that your idea of what’s attractive doesn’t necessarily match everyone else’s, so what may be trash to you is gold to someone else…and you have no right to treat them otherwise.
gay stereotypes, gay culture of youth, body-consciousness
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December 5th, 2007 at 6:03 am
Judging by the majority of my lesbian or bisexual female friends - and myself, I’d say you’ve hit the nail on the head with this essay, figuratively speaking. None of us are conventionally attractive, and some of us aren’t really attractive at all. So we look for things in others that we have within ourselves. Sure, it’s nice to have a pretty lady on your arm, but if she doesn’t share any of your goals or interests, then what good is she to you? I of course can’t speak for all lesbians, but that’s just been my friends’ experience.
I know in my case it doesn’t have as much to do with someone’s physical attractiveness - I mean, look at the girls I’ve dated since you’ve known me - but more to do with personality. I struck gold with L, though, not just in terms of intellect, ambition, creativity, and sweetness…but I will rather shallowly admit that I’ve got a smokin’ hot girlfriend. And part of me is vindicated by that, because I’m not one of those attractive sort of girls.
If I were a gay man, I’d probably have withered and died under the glare of public scrutiny by now.
December 5th, 2007 at 6:41 am
Truth be told, I find that I’m friendlier to men and women who aren’t conventionally attractive. I make more of an effort to get past the outward appearance, partially because I’ve never been considered attractive by my peers (school was hell for that reason), and I know I have a lot going against me (mentally/emotionally as well as physically).
Adri, honestly? If I saw you in real life, and you looked even HALF as good as you do in No Style, I probably would remain distant, quietly go ga-ga over your beauty, calm myself down, then pass right by you without saying a word. Pretty people scare the hell out of me, unless they’re as real as my cutesy never-had-to-come-out neighbor, who surprised me with his personality halfway throgh my initial ga-ga stage.
Adri, I’m glad I’m getting to know you through your writing. I LIKE you. If I’d come across you under real-life circumstances, I’d never have met you, and that makes me angry at myself.
I have my own issue with appearances: I tend to avoid the attractive ones as not worth my time. I assume they’ll be shallow.
You’re not, and that’s a much-needed slap upside the head for me. Thanks.
Okay, I’m going to go write. I’d rather be maudlin for my characters than myself . . .
December 5th, 2007 at 7:40 am
I wonder what that guy would have thought of me (besides the obvious fact that I’m a girl) : I have acne scarring all over my cheeks, my chest and the upper part of my back… And a random set of scars all over the rest of my body. I like each and every one of them xD
Pretty people don’t scare me, but I have found that some of them are really mean to people they don’t consider to be on par with them - and they turn vicious when I baffle them with my (not that impressive) intellect. Maybe it’s just the eternal battle between people who know appearance to be the most important, and the people who know the inner to be most important.
Because of course both sides know to be right. Like always; I guess.
December 5th, 2007 at 9:04 am
Met a guy Friday who was the walking embodiment of the stereotype you mentioned. I honestly don’t know how he leaves his house in the morning, what with the crushing disappointment in everyone and everything around him. *gags*
December 5th, 2007 at 9:05 am
That’s the problem of looking at ams instead of looking at people. Hehe.
By the way, you’re an ethnic milkshake. Haha!
December 5th, 2007 at 11:38 am
I habitually avoid people who seem to be making a lot of effort to be ‘pretty’ without adding any of their own personality. Older people with strange scars? Fine. Nice people, know a hell of a lot more about music than me. Pretty asexual creatures who spent over an hour carefully accentuating their cheekbones with Bowie-esque electric green? Cool, they have a unique aesthetic. Blandly Barbie girls who spent over and hour applying their fake tan? No thanks.
The above is a kind of superficiality in itself, in that I actively avoid people because they’re so obviously conventially pretty. But for every nice Barbie there’s three nasty ones, so it just works out easier for me to avoid them.
December 5th, 2007 at 2:21 pm
I find it easier to just ignore people hitting on me as “hitting on me.” If I just pretend it’s an ordinary conversation, it’s easier not to get hung up on looks.
…This strategy has not been productive in finding me an actual *mate* mind you, but I find it hard to care.
December 8th, 2007 at 8:09 am
….ethnic….milkshake.
Yeah, not seeing the humor there.