Untangling, "Makeup is Empowering"

an uncomfortable journey for a beauty lover.

Makeup has been enchanting to me for as long as I can remember. I become mesmerized by the way my pigments and creams glide on my arm, and holding up shimmery shadows to the light and watching the reflexive particles dance on my skin bewitches me. But there is something about this hobby that niggles at my soul.

My relationship with feminist theory and my skill with makeup application grew in parallel. Margaret Atwood, Assata Shakur, and Roxanne Gay were on my nightstand as I watched countless makeup tutorials and “get ready with me” videos on YouTube. Whenever I was confronted with the conflict between my two emerging passions, I defaulted to choice feminism logic: anything that makes a woman feel good can be rebranded as feminist; therefore, makeup can be empowering. When my male classmates accused me of lining my eyes dark purple for the benefit of men, I would go red in the face as I replied (yelled) that I didn’t do my makeup for MEN but for MYSELF and NOT EVERYTHING A GIRL DOES IS FOR THE ATTENTION FROM BOYS. All of this is true. I didn’t think about attracting men when I got ready, but the truth was more complicated, and it was something I didn’t want to confront.

I cannot stomach casual conversations about plastic surgery. So, when my friend, P, casually floated the idea of getting a nose job, I responded viscerally and from a place of judgment. “I don’t understand how you could do that to yourself, and for what?”

P looked at me steadily, eyebrows raised. “You contour your own nose every day.”

I touched my nose, self-consciously. “Yeah, but not with surgery, and it washes off at the end of the day.”

“And don’t you feel a little less pretty when you look at yourself, right after you take off all your makeup?”

I squirmed in my seat, pausing to try to think of a response. When none came, I just said with a sigh, “It’s just not the same.”

P rolled her eyes. “Beauty is considered a virtue in this patriarchal and capitalist culture, and I don’t think it’s wrong not to want my face to be a political statement against eurocentric beauty standards.”

P hit a nerve, and the sting lasted for years. Every time I applied shadow to the sides of my nose, I told myself I was merely putting the original definition that was flattened by foundation. When I scrolled through Twitter or Instagram and stumbled upon pictures of beautiful and botoxed celebrities with the caption, “see how you age when you are unproblematic,” P’s words rang in my ear.

It is true that beauty is considered a virtue. When we are little, while being encouraged to be honest, studious, and sociable, girls are also taught to strive towards beauty. It’s unsubtle but also subliminal; it feels like the pressure to strive towards beauty is infused in the air. No one sits down and teaches you what the beauty standard is, but everyone learns. When learning how to do makeup, I never once questioned why the goal was to make my cheeks appear slimmer, my eyes to be wider, and my lips to be fuller.

I think, truthfully, makeup allowed me to breathe easily. My bare face is unacceptable to the world, not just men. I never thought about the “male gaze,” but did I have to when everything is slanted towards their pleasure? I sometimes joked that I did it for other women. Nothing is more validating than another woman complimenting my looks. But still, there have been days where makeup has felt like a necessary chore, like brushing my teeth. I don’t walk as tall or smile as wide without it. It’s a crutch. But isn’t everyone allowed one? This tension of voluntarily assimilating to a beauty standard vs. my rage towards the fact that for women, being pretty is treated like an obligation still tugs in my psyche. Even as I’m typing this, the next tab over is Ulta.

The tension boils down to this: makeup is empowering for a woman, but it is not for women. And that empowerment is certainly not “feminist.” I believe I look prettier with makeup on, and as I have been programmed to do, I do strive to look the best I can. Is there a genuine enjoyment that I have when I do, yes. But I still do it, even when I don’t feel like it. A privilege my other hobbies do not enjoy. I do not expect myself or anyone else to opt out of social conditioning that has been happening since birth. But I am so proud of the women who do.