I recently saw a meme from Meryl Streep on Instagram which went viral. It was a photo of the renowned actress in her 30s after being rejected from a King Kong audition.
The accompanying caption read as follows, “This was me on my way home from an audition for King Kong where I was told I was too ‘ugly’ for the part. This was a pivotal moment for me. This one rogue opinion could derail my dreams of becoming an actress or force me to pull myself up by the bootstraps and believe in myself.”
This resonated with many people. To be frank, it resonated with me. Although Meryl is a white woman, I was inspired to write my version of this experience. My version of what I jokingly refer to as “growing up ugly”.
At the risk of sounding like I have an inferiority complex, I wish to shed some light on the concept of beauty our society propels and how it affects those of us who do not “have the look”.
Like it or not, many view fair skin and curly hair as the paramount of virtue in beauty standards for black people. Growing up, it was seen as a token of merit and something to boast about. Popular dub songs which had lyrics such as “mi love mi brownin” and the habit of our people to use the word ‘black’ as an insult does nothing to curb this behaviour.
Luckily, younger millennials can experience a new acceptance for black beauty and the full spectrum of it all. Images of very dark skin, natural hair and blackness are promoted with a new wave and movement that would trump the images propelled in the 70s by Angela Davis and her peers.
Unlike my friends, during adolescence and at Barbados Community College, I was not a hit with the boys. As a matter of fact, I specifically remember being called “Mumra” as a nickname. Mumra is one of the ugliest creatures created by the Cartoon Network. I would never forget my mother’s response when I lamented that this was a nickname which fell into my lap. She said, “You can choose to run after boys thinking you are pretty or you can choose to run after being smart and ruling your own world.” The latter always seemed more attractive.
Michelle Obama recently gave the best advice to a group of girls at a forum. She said, “There is no boy at this age that is cute enough or interesting enough to stop you from getting your education. If I had worried about who liked me and who thought I was cute when I was your age, I wouldn’t be married to the President of the United States.”
As a young person, I was heavily involved in the regional fashion industry. The fashion industry was one space where a certain level of blackness was celebrated. Dark skin and natural hair was lauded. Local model Eleazar Jeremie with her huge Afro and dark skin graced the covers of many regional magazines in a time when many of us rushed to hair salons to texturise our hair, sometimes twice a month. Of course, texturiser is a style and this should not be condemned. To me, the issues arise not in having texturiser but in instances where one sees the need to lie about the texturised hair being his or her own natural hair.
I recently witnessed a black little girl playing with an array of her dolls. All of her dolls were white. When asked about her thoughts on black dolls, her response was that she thought they were all ugly. Her parents are unaware of the damage they are doing to her socialisation and concept of beauty at such a tender age of six. This is in an era where the range of Barbies available are more extensive. Quite recently, a Zendaya Barbie doll was launched quickly after the famous television show Fashion Police slammed its the dolls’ locks hairstyle by stating that it made her look like she smelt full of weed.
I would never forget auditioning for what was a drama series touted to be “the best thing to hit local television” as a teenager. Unfortunately, it never got off the ground but it taught me a valuable lesson about the society we live in and the mentality of a lot of Barbadians. After dressing to the nines and giving what I thought was a good performance, the casting director allowed me to know that I would not be cast (not even as an extra) because I did not have “the look”. I later realised that all the people cast had a particular aesthetic and my dark skin and huge natural Afro at the time did not lend to what they were going for.
Once I went to court with Kerrie Symmonds and went before a jurist I have the utmost respect for. Upon seeing my Afro, he told me that if I returned to court like this, he would hold me in contempt. I went to the hairdresser the next week and straightened my hair. I was 18. I often wonder if my hair was of a different texture and I wore it in that style if I would be contemptuous of the court.
We see local ads which continue to show a certain complexion to the point where we ask ourselves, “Only a certain looking person live ’bout hey?” I have a close friend who unashamedly states “Dem products ain targeting me so I ain buying um.”
I do believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and people are allowed to have preferences. However, preference is one thing, “downplaying” is another.
These perceptions are inbred from the days of slavery. Hundreds of years after the abolition, perhaps we need to relook the specific images we showcase as being beautiful. If not, we will continue to have so many other black little girls walking around thinking that the dolls that look like them are ugly.
Toni Thorne is a young entrepreneur and World Economic Forum Global Shaper who loves global youth culture, a great debate and living in paradise. Email Tonithorne@hotmail.com.