“To be born woman is to know—
Although they do not talk of it at school—
That we must labour to be beautiful.”
--W.B. Yeats
More than money or fancy learning, a woman’s beauty is her capital, and however attractive a woman is, that’s a good indicator of how far she’ll go in life: how well she’ll marry, how beloved her children will be, how close to the glass ceiling she’ll come. Many women have thought some version of this story, but is this really a fair representation of our fair sex? It’s true that some women will have it easy for having grown up into the proportions that are in vogue right now, but so-called beautiful women can have a hard time being taken seriously for their smarts and general competence. Whether a woman is plain or a “knockout,” there are consequences. So what are we going to do about it?
Many women know what it’s like to worry about being upstaged. Say you’re out with your husband, and a younger, thinner woman walks into the room, immediately causing you to feel inferior. Or remember the polished, well-dressed girls from the wealthier families in high school and how exclusive they were, ruling the microcosm of school at the expense of the frumpy girls still hanging onto their baby fat? Harsh judgments about a woman’s physical appearance are frequently woman-to-woman. We’re raised to be very body-conscious, contemplating the proportions of our creamy-skinned and blue-eyed Barbies, and, as we get older, this insecurity translates into cattiness: “Did you see her skirt?” “Do you think I’m prettier than she is?”
Ladies, let’s make a change. It’s too easy to be at a pool party and thank your lucky stars that there’s a more “matronly” figure there than yours. Like men with their strength, we’re stuck in this stereotype of comparison, but the people we’re really hurting with this are ourselves, even if we don’t know it. We’re enforcing the notion that how attractive we are is directly related to how worthy we are of attention, confidence, friendship and love. It may sound silly in writing, but it’s going on all the time.
Regardless of physical features, it’s important to remember the experience of the subjectivity of beauty. Ever known somebody that was physically perfect, but as you got to know them, you realized things about their values that disgusted you, like maybe they drop a few racial slurs and try to get you to join in on their joke? Still impressed by their physicality? Or the sweaty and haggard mom with baby spit-up on her shoulder that helps you find the olives in the grocery store—doesn’t her generosity render her beatific in hindsight? It’s an old cliché that true beauty is on the inside—and maybe this kind of beauty doesn’t help women get ahead in life—but if each of us makes the individual choice to stop comparing ourselves to other women so much and to stop comparing all of us to some abstract ideal, we might all feel better about ourselves and get on better with the women around us in turn.
Although they do not talk of it at school—
That we must labour to be beautiful.”
--W.B. Yeats
More than money or fancy learning, a woman’s beauty is her capital, and however attractive a woman is, that’s a good indicator of how far she’ll go in life: how well she’ll marry, how beloved her children will be, how close to the glass ceiling she’ll come. Many women have thought some version of this story, but is this really a fair representation of our fair sex? It’s true that some women will have it easy for having grown up into the proportions that are in vogue right now, but so-called beautiful women can have a hard time being taken seriously for their smarts and general competence. Whether a woman is plain or a “knockout,” there are consequences. So what are we going to do about it?
Many women know what it’s like to worry about being upstaged. Say you’re out with your husband, and a younger, thinner woman walks into the room, immediately causing you to feel inferior. Or remember the polished, well-dressed girls from the wealthier families in high school and how exclusive they were, ruling the microcosm of school at the expense of the frumpy girls still hanging onto their baby fat? Harsh judgments about a woman’s physical appearance are frequently woman-to-woman. We’re raised to be very body-conscious, contemplating the proportions of our creamy-skinned and blue-eyed Barbies, and, as we get older, this insecurity translates into cattiness: “Did you see her skirt?” “Do you think I’m prettier than she is?”
Ladies, let’s make a change. It’s too easy to be at a pool party and thank your lucky stars that there’s a more “matronly” figure there than yours. Like men with their strength, we’re stuck in this stereotype of comparison, but the people we’re really hurting with this are ourselves, even if we don’t know it. We’re enforcing the notion that how attractive we are is directly related to how worthy we are of attention, confidence, friendship and love. It may sound silly in writing, but it’s going on all the time.
Regardless of physical features, it’s important to remember the experience of the subjectivity of beauty. Ever known somebody that was physically perfect, but as you got to know them, you realized things about their values that disgusted you, like maybe they drop a few racial slurs and try to get you to join in on their joke? Still impressed by their physicality? Or the sweaty and haggard mom with baby spit-up on her shoulder that helps you find the olives in the grocery store—doesn’t her generosity render her beatific in hindsight? It’s an old cliché that true beauty is on the inside—and maybe this kind of beauty doesn’t help women get ahead in life—but if each of us makes the individual choice to stop comparing ourselves to other women so much and to stop comparing all of us to some abstract ideal, we might all feel better about ourselves and get on better with the women around us in turn.
--Larissa Weaver, YWCA Grant-Writing Intern
Originally from Germany, Larissa Weaver has studied German literature and creative writing at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. Her areas of interest include equality of education access, prison reform, Queer Theory, knitting, and comparative literature. She lives in Knoxville with her domestic partner Ben, their two dogs—Keiko & Scribbs—and Keaton, the cat.
