Useless Little Girl
her only purpose is to sit there and look pretty
‘If I’m not beautiful, then what am I good for?’
The question took my mother aback; stunned at the complexity of the random thought blurted out from my innocent young mouth. She comforted me in the way a mother tends to do, giving me the usual ‘everyone is beautiful in their own way’.
Yet the question stays lingered, glued to the back of my brain, and I could never tear it off, no matter what I did. And so it stayed; haunting me, taunting me.
I saw girls with skin like porcelain, bodies that fit into clothes the way they were meant to. I wasn’t jealous, but there was a disappointment that settled in me—like I’d failed somehow. Failed to be useful in the same perfect way.
I started wondering if I wasn’t worthy of love, if I wasn’t deserving of the same attention. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be that kind of woman. The kind people admired just for existing. I didn’t hate them. I just couldn’t help but think—what am I, if I’m not that? What value do I hold if I don’t fit that perfect image?
It felt like I was missing something essential. Like the world had given them some secret ingredient that I’d never get my hands on.
I was aware that it was probably the man inside my head talking, yet I felt physcially incapable of shutting him down. He took control of me sometimes, made his home in my brain, and settled in like he owned the place.
He told me I wasn’t enough. That I’d never be enough. He didn’t scream or shout—he didn’t have to. I’d try to drown him out, yet he somehow found a way to talk over my own thoughts.
[note: I’m trying not to make this a cliché girlhood post, but excuse me if it does start sounding like that]
These days, it’s like you always have to girlboss your way into a successful life. While I am all for this, I can’t help but envy those girls who can literally just exist and be beautiful and get success (you know who I’m talking about).
I’ve talked about familial expectations, yet not in the sense of beauty and the advantages that come with it. Pretty privilege exists, sue me for saying that. Now I am not saying in any way shape or form that every person who’s pretty and sucessful has only achieved said sucess because they are pretty; simply that it does happen and often, especially in this day and age of social media, and it does make you feel jealous at times. At first, when I felt this, I tried to hide it. I despised myself—how dare I feel jealous of someone simply because of their looks, am I really that shallow of a person?—but I felt it nontheless.
It wasn’t just about being shallow. It was about seeing how the world bent in favour to them, how doors opened without them asking. I couldn’t resent them for it—it wasn’t their fault they were born with features that others admired. And the strangest part? I didn’t even want to be them. I didn’t want their lives or their faces. What I resented was the knowledge that no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I accomplished, I’d always be playing catch-up in a game I never signed up for. And the truth is, it wasn’t the world that made me feel small—it was the fact that deep down, I knew I believed it too.
For those of you who deny it, take a closer look at the patterns. It’s always the conventionally attractive people who get the lead roles in the school play, as if the rest of us were never even considered an option. And somehow, when someone who doesn’t fit that standard is insulted, it’s written off as harmless—‘just a joke,’ or ‘it’s not that deep.’ But when did it become acceptable to use someone’s appearance as a punchline? Think about it for a moment, then tell me I’m wrong.
Then there is the matter of backhanded complements; subtle yet largely influential in shaping someone’s mindset when it comes to these expectations. “You’d be pretty if you just lost some weight,” or “At least you have a nice personality.” They seem innocuous, even well-meaning, until you realize the implications. And hearing these as a young child, you start talking to yourself in that same overly-critical manner that you have been taught to by other’s example. It’s ‘never that serious’ until you are always so deperately trying to fix every minute ‘unattractive’ feature pointed out to you (both by yourself and others).
The truth is, even you and me have probably unconciously enforced this priviledge in one way or another. We’re kinder to attractive people, quicker to offer help, and we gravitate toward them in conversations, as if beauty alone pulls us in. I’ve seen it happen over and over—compliments come easier, smiles more genuine, and suddenly, they’re treated like they’ve earned extra brownie points just by existing. And maybe I’m guilty of it too. But I do make a concious effort not to judge someone based on the way they look (and if you don’t already, maybe you should also do this).
I know I should try and end this on a positive note, but can I really? In the end, it’s not about blaming those who benefit from this privilege—it’s about recognizing the unfairness embedded in how we value each other. Beauty has become a currency, and even when we try to deny it, we still find ourselves trading in it, consciously or not. And no matter what the judgemental people tell you (yes, I’m talking to you, judgy aunties at weddings that I’ve never met before in my life), you don’t have to fit somone’s narrow criteria for attractiveness. In the bathroom mirror, you don’t get to witness those moments, you never see the way your presence alone can matter to someone.
first piece ive read from you and im omw to read more <33
These were the exact thoughts i was having and you explained it so perfectly! Veryy well written 💗