The Other Night at Natalie's

I'm watching Natalie pace the room and bite her fingernails. I want to reach out to her, but she needs the silence right now. I can feel my heart beating and I know hers is racing twice as fast. I feel nervous and my hands are sweating, but my eyes are locked on her. Her face is pointed at the ground, eyebrows furrowed, still pacing, back and forth and back again. She's holding the phone in her hand. Her hands shake at the idea of pressing the buttons. There's one number, and it's calling her so strongly that one look at that phone and her fingers will betray her.

Natalie knows there is a girl on the other side of that phone line. Even though its wireless, she feels connected to her. This girl is in serious, serious trouble. No, she's not hurt or in danger. But she's standing at a cliff right now. It's a steep cliff and the wind is blowing really hard. Normally there's proper attire and equipment for this type of weather, but this girl has brought nothing, not even a sweater, and the wind has pushed her to the edge.

Natalie knows this girl is crying for help. And people are coming to her rescue! But her fate is being gambled in the hands of people with beliefs that are illogical, unfounded, and close-minded. Natalie knows that she could really help this girl because she's had the same experience. She's been to that same cliff and stepped back. Despite everything around her telling her to jump -- her family and the beliefs they instilled in her, her friends, her boyfriend -- Natalie knew she wasn't prepared to jump. No equipment, no training, no-go. Natalie needs to call that number and tell this girl that she doesn't have to jump either. The wind may be on her back, her legs may be ready to give in, but if her heart is not there yet, there's nothing wrong with waiting. Yes, it's the advice that no one else will give to this girl. But it's advice of empathy, advice of true love. 

I watch her eyes quickly dart at me. I suddenly feel stupid for lying on her bed. Should I sit? Should I go? It's suddenly very hot. I clear my throat and look at her again. Her eyes have moved to the window. She walks over to it in sync with her pacing. Her hand still holds the phone, but she uses the other to wave at the curtain. In the sunlight I can see tears in her eyes. There's a hard lump in my throat and I don't want to swallow. It'll unblock all the tears inside of me. Natalie's fingers touch over the buttons of the phone. I know she wants to call, I know she wants to help. But if she helps, she may lose her own entire family. Suddenly, every relationship she's ever molded, cemented, cracked, fixed, loved, gone! in an instant. One phone call could do that.

But this girl has her whole life in front of her! She's about to graduate college, and almost completely debt free! Why? Because she worked her ass off all through high school AND college to pay off her loans. Yeah. But this girl is even smarter than that. She moved to America from Sierra Leone at eight years old and can now speak both English and Spanish fluently on top of her native French. She wants to go back to Sierra Leone one day and give back everything she's gotten in her life abroad. She wants there to be a future in Sierra Leone like the present she enjoys here. She loves life. She makes jokes. She smiles. That big toothy smile that makes everything feel happy. She's beautiful. She's beautiful because she's worked so hard, and she knows it, and she's happy. And that same girl is now in distress -- serious, serious distress -- and Natalie might be the only one with real guidance to give.

Natalie needs to call that number, but the only thing stopping her is the one thing she cannot bear to imagine: Confessing her secret abortion. Because depending on how this girl takes something as "controversial" as that, a conversation like the one Natalie wants to have has the potential to get back to this girl's boyfriend. And this girl's boyfriend happens to be the cousin of Natalie.

I'm watching Natalie's whole body as it quivers. Her knees give a bit, but her feet are firm. I feel nervous and my hands are sweating. I can feel my heart beating and know hers is racing twice as fast.

This cousin isn't some long lost relative. This cousin isn't just a childhood pal. This cousin is the son of Natalie's Uncle Ben. Uncle Ben who is the older brother of Natalie's father. The best friend of Natalie's father. The mentor of Natalie's father. Uncle Ben who joked about running for congress during Thanksgiving and then bragged about casual lunches with Republican politicians at Christmas dinner. Uncle Ben who is the community pastor with the pious morale of a self-righteous priest. Uncle Ben who held a youth sermon called, "The Only Safe Sex is No Sex". Uncle Ben the passionate anti-choice activist. Uncle Ben whose son has gotten his girlfriend pregnant and is pressuring her into raising a child because anything else is "murder".

And if Natalie calls, she has the potential to end all of this madness.
And if Natalie calls, she has the potential to destroy her entire family.
And I'm watching Natalie pace the room and bite her fingernails.
And I want to reach out to her, but I know she needs the silence right now.

One phone call with the potential to save a life,
One phone call with the potential to destroy another.

What would you do?

Is it Hypocritical to Wear Makeup and Call yourself a Feminist?

I remember watching Tracey Spicer, in defiance of beauty culture, take her dress off during a ted talk and asking myself how much time I spent in the mirror every morning. At the time, I would *sometimes* apply a bit of concealer, touch up my eyebrows, and occasionally go for the lip gloss and/or mascara. Maybe 20 minutes? 30 including hair? That's not too bad, right?
Well, I noticed during the last 5 weeks I spent in the States that I was suddenly wearing make up habitually, to the point where it became a staple in my morning ritual. In Europe, I spend many a days make up free, and I feel okay. I'm mostly self conscious about my under eye circles, but beyond that, I think my face is easy to look at. (If you came here for self-pity rants, goodbye).

After about two weeks of this new routine, I found myself asking another question to the girl staring back at me in the mirror: Is it hypocritical to call myself a feminist while putting this gunk all over my face?

It's a good question.

One part of feminism is trying to dismantle these horrible hoops we as women have to jump through in order to be taken seriously within society... Namely, the fallacy that our credibility is in our appearance. Not only is it untrue and insulting, but it allows the meaningless things we do for our appearance to suddenly have hyper intense significance. That's bullshit. Plus, it makes applying makeup feel like walking a tight rope. On one hand, you can't wear too much make up or else you come off as narcissistic, dumb, and/or slutty. On the other hand, wearing no makeup means you're lazy and unkempt.
As a feminist, I want to break down these stereotypes but in changing the game, we cannot forget that we live within its boundaries. 

Here's my take on make up:

#1) I like it. I won't lie or sugar coat: It does give me a level of confidence. My dark circles aren't the worst, but it's not a matter of insomina or sun. It's genetics. Those bad boys are never going away. I don't plan on getting injections or plastic surgery, although at one point (before my introduction to feminism and body acceptance) I was seriously considering it. I've come a long way in accepting my body as is, but that doesn't mean I have to live in denial. I also find my face more appealing with a little concealer.

#2) It can open up those locked in social confines. No one should judge me purely based on my appearance (I think the phrase goes something like we should be striving to live in a nation based on the content of our character, not our skin!), but at the same time, if I can use my appearance to open people up to my multifaceted character (*10 minutes into the conversation* "Oh yeah, I'm a feminist blogger..." "Really?" "Yeah! It's awesome!"), how am I hurting the mission? Everyone has their level of empathy, and when I meet someone, I try to find that. And once I've found it, I try to push it. I challenge it. Sometimes that starts with a little mascara.

#3)Make up exists and if you haven't been in a Target in a while, let me just tell you, it's not going anywhere. And why should it? We're humans that have the cognitive creativity to make our faces more "beautiful" with different colors and creams. Of course we should expand the definition of "beautiful" but studies have shown humans to be more attracted to symmetry, something makeup certainly does nicely.
 
Nevertheless, I can see how it is hypocritical to wear makeup and be a "feminist" under two scenarios:

1) if you forget that you’re fine without makeup too. 

You’re smart and have character. You’re important. Just as important as anyone else. And how you look does not define who you are. I think when you are relying on make up in order to fully feel like you, then you’re objectifying yourself and perpetuating the mindset. So don’t always go all out. Pay attention to how much time you spend in front of the mirror. Watch Tracey Spicer's ted talk about all the potential time girls and women have if they cut down on make up time. How could you spend yours?

I came across an article on Bustle where Tori Telfer writes against makeup, her reason being that makeup in general is, just, well, "creepy":

Blame this rant on my inner grumpy old man (I’ll probably be screaming about Twitter from a rocking chair tomorrow), but the fundamental concept of an artificially enhanced face is creepy. Because although you might feel good in foundation, that’s secondary. Its first purpose is to trick the viewer into thinking you’re more competent, healthier, and more desirable — oh, and also that you have a great job and higher earning potential than your clean-faced neighbor. Anyone starting to hear a tinkling horror-movie piano?  
The choice to wear makeup should tell you nothing about a person’s work ethic, sexual prowess, or earning potential — all it really tells you is that this person cares about her (or his) appearance. But we take it to mean so much more; makeup tricks us into making judgment calls that we don’t even realize we’re making. Aren’t we sick of fraudulence and artifice? Don’t we want to know what’s really going on?

I have to disagree. First off, don't her words have the same bitter aftertaste of slut-shaming? Secondly, I don't think there's anything inherently creepy about wanting to enhance your appearance. The part where it gets messy is when the definition of enhancement is skewed, which we can see everywhere from the television to magazines. The whole point of being on this earth (biologically speaking) is to be attractive enough to mate, then reproduce and die. Easy peasy. So let's start at the root of the problem (social expectations of a woman's appearance) and not attack the women themselves. I completely agree that makeup should not create any sort of bias for or against the person wearing it, but ultimately, you're a fraud if you're a fraud. Not if you slap some sparkles over your eyelids. I think we should expand our idea/ideal of beauty and let makeup be gender-neutral. Gender equality means gender equality, not more taboos.  

Which leads to...

2) if you believe men should not wear makeup.

Seriously. Why can't men cover up a break out or their dark under eye circles? Why can't men color in their eyebrows? Lets de-sexualize make up! Because really, what's so feminine about it? That only women wear it? Because that's can change. I think its just natural to want to make your face look nicer to you or whomever you want to attract. It's why men shave, yeah? Or grow out long beards. Or have short hair. Or long hair. Or a mohawk.

Slate's Farhad Manjoo is about it. I also read a pretty good Bustle article where makeup artists threw in their two cents on a reddit before/after makeup photo. My favorite quote comes from freelance artist Caroline Cayetano:

I view makeup as a work of art, not something girls wear on their face to make them feel better about themselves. (Granted, there are a lot of girls who feel differently — and I think those are the ones who had a negative reaction to the Reddit picture.) To me, people can do whatever they want with makeup. In fact, the new makeup trends are crazy lip colors (blue, green, yellow) — who’s to say that that’s weird, or even unpretty? It’s just makeup, and at the end of the day, it wipes off. It’s just a form of expression. As women, we’re fine wearing sweats one day and Spanx the next; how is makeup any different?
Personally, I don’t wear makeup to hide who I am or to be a different person. I do it because I can. I do it because I love playing with colors and being able to transform myself. I love that we have freedom to do what we want with makeup. There might be many tutorials on how to get the ‘perfect’ look, but my number one rule in makeup is, “There are no rules!”

Ultimately, I think makeup is only a problem when people wear it without knowing about the subtle social implications of it. That's a matter of education, and after that, if someone still wants to wear makeup, that's their free choice. So let's spread the awareness, open our minds to a broader definition of beauty, and let people do whatever the fack they want! :-)

What do you think? Is make up another outlet for freedom of expression, or a limitation to our function in society? Why or why not?