"Being Pretty Ain't All That"

Dear Readers:

Ever since I was a kid, I had been told by “desi” aunties and uncles that I was a really pretty girl. People said it so many times that I had no choice but to accept their words as they’d all but shoved them down my throat innumerable times. As a child, I cannot say that I did not like being complimented, but I had always wanted to be appreciated for more than my external attributes. I had other qualities; as a child, I had always had an inquisitive nature; I asked endlessly both meaningful and meaningless questions (more of the former than the latter). I was a planner; I imagined my future and concocted all sorts of schemes in my mind to successfully fulfill my dreams of where I would stand years later. I would, more often than not, invent games to amuse myself and others. I created artistic designs for my drawings and paintings; I would win art competitions and be awarded for my talent by the judges. I was a well-behaved child; wherever I went, I was polite to the hosts of whom we were guests of at boring dinner parties that my parents dragged my sister and I along to. Moreover, I had been insightful about situations and people in a way that would always astound people. Still, most people failed to see that; I felt they did not really see me.

As I grew up, the situation did not resolve itself; in some ways, it worsened. Wherever I went, people often presumed without proof that I either lacked intelligence or had tantrum problems. It didn’t matter that I had exhibited none of the faults that they seemed eager to find within me. When I found that I could not compete with their baseless perceptions of me, I began to sometimes use that perception to my advantage. When a teacher thought I couldn’t understand something, she was willing to go the “extra mile” to explain because I was a little slow on the uptake of grasping concepts, gleaning theoretical knowledge, and applying learned knowledge. When I sat like a doll among adults as they were conversing, they were quick to ignore me; I was even quicker to observe their dialogues. With interest, I listened to their mundane and private conversations. I guess it was not wholly their fault in never regarding me as more than what I appeared to be; I had been reticent and shy as a child. Though people were quick to realize that I did not have any attitude issues, they were slower to dismiss the “lack of intelligence” nonsense on account of how I looked.

When I went to college, I had told myself that I would have a different experience; I wasn’t going to sit behind the scenes, letting others judge me. So, I became outgoing and more willing to engage in friendships with my classmates. To “go the whole ten yards” so-to-speak, I even ran for student elections in my freshman year. As I was passing by dorm halls asking people to please vote for me, a boy watching me asserted, “I would love to vote for you, but you will have to come into my room and give me some incentive.” He winked at me and grinned suggestively. The meaning was clear. And I was angry. What had I ever done to a virtual stranger to cast an impression of promiscuity? I was surprised but did not allow my facial expression to convey either my anger, the umbrage I felt, or the need to run far away from the lasciviousness of such disgusting individuals. I just looked him straight in the eye and said, “No, thank you.” After the incident, suddenly, I felt tired from the exertion of making small talk with people and asking them to vote for me. I did not go through all the halls as per my original intention; and I did not win the student elections, but I did not care much. I had accomplished something just by trying; for now, that was enough for me.

Most people judge me from how I look, especially desi people. I can dress the matter up in any manner I want to, yet the fact remains. Though I have accepted that people will choose to judge me by what they want to, I am still annoyed by their presumptions and initial impressions of me. It is true “beauty is only skin deep,” but that does not mean that every person you find “pretty” is superficial or will appreciate being condescended to or dismissed in such manner. Maybe the reason for such hoopla over how anyone looks in Indian culture is because people's stances in life are shaped partly by how they look and feel. Maybe it has to do with Bollywood depicting anyone remotely attractive as having attitude problems. But please, people, really, do you have to judge someone by how they look? If I ever marry, and that is a big if (will explain in later post), Insha-Allah, I will marry someone who understands that I have more to offer than just that triviality. If I say so myself, “Being pretty ain’t all that.”

Sincerely,
Ek Umeed