Opinion Piece: They Call it Beauty

The whole typical “damsel in distress” story of beautiful girl encounters a situation she can't handle, beautiful girl gets abducted and waits for Mr Prince Charming to come save her, is so out-dated. As women, we should have moved past conforming to those ridiculous expectations a long time ago.

However, it appears that the damsel doesn't get the knight in shining armor unless she's about to be eaten by a horrible, fire-breathing dragon. Seriously? Cut us girls a break, because I'm not about to go and jump off the nearest cliff, just to see if there's someone handsome waiting to catch me at the bottom. Can't the damsel just walk down the road, innocently ask the Prince for a smoke or something easy, and then start from there? Why the drama? The dragons and dungeons and ogre transformations at night? Seriously?? It's like we don't deserve a prince unless we're about to die or something.

Well listen here. I'm walking on two steady feet, with a smile on my face and a smoke in my pocket, so if you are looking for tears and trauma, then I'm not looking for you, I guess.


The following words express my opinion better as a poem than they ever could as just prose:

They Call It Beauty

Stylish girls
Braids long and shiny, sit about her shoulders, shivering with mirth when she laughs
Swinging softly as she turns to look at you
Clothes straining in all the right places,
Gripping every curve, holding her body so tightly it makes all the boys jealous
Lips glossy and inviting, eyes shadowed, eyebrows neatly plucked
Earings swing heavy from ears too used to it to complain,
A mask of base and blush and bullshit to hide the flaws so
On the surface looks smooth, powder soft and supple.
Fingernail talons, long and dripping red
Heels high, shaping legs, thighs, buttocks they wanna caress,
Crippling her so she can't walk away from you too fast,
Nice and slow so you can watch that ass bounce.
Breasts tightly bound and thrust on display
That's what all the boys want right?



They call it beauty
I call it.. surface deep.

My shiniest accessory is the vaseline on my lips,
How do I compare?
Long flowing, comfortable skirt, barely brushing my mismatched socks and dirty shoes
Ill-fitting top, a lil' stain on one sleeve, hope no one notices
Thick thighs, big butt, not quite that fierce, feline toned image they carry in their minds
Skin clean, no shine, no gloss
Hair like the weather, one day good, one day crap
I like having short nails.



How do i compare?
I have words,
I have thought,
I have enough between my ears to know that
If i'm being judged on whether my eye-brows are shaped in this months fashion or not, then you're Not worth my time
I have enough to know that if someone tries to rape me, degrade me, invade me,
My dirty chucks won't betray me
Like a scathing pair of heels will,
I know I can walk with confidence, never about to fall
I know the control I have over the state of my hair is insignificant in comparison with the greatness I intend to infuse into my life, bad hair day or no
I know that my kiss is that much sweeter, cos you can taste my skin
You don't have to worry about what I look like when I wake up
My face is not the powder and paste on the pillow, but the light in my eyes when i smile

How do I compare?
I know that if you can see me, you see a human being; not whether my clothes match,
Not the features of my body you want most to see naked,
Not a mask of jewellry and glitter and shine
You see me.
I've been feeling beautiful,
And no one can change that
Accept it, celebrate it, declare it, perform it.
Live it. Because every second makes it true
So stop listening to me, start listening to you...




Peace,
Jas