To The Critics

I've been thinking a lot about beauty lately, and what it really means. I've realized it's not something that  is created through hours at the gym, or finding the perfect haircut, or applying makeup strategically, or cutting down your food intake until you reach that ideal number on the scale.

It's none of those things, and in fact it has nothing to do with those things. 

It has to do with doing good things for other people when no one is looking. It has to do with making sacrifices, with being honest, with being brave, with standing up for what you believe in. It's something that is cultivated through all those things that take daily upkeep, and tireless seeking- kindness, compassion, purity, benevolence, strength, innocence. It has to do with being a good listener to a friend that needs you, accepting others for who they are, without judgment. It's learning to be grateful for what you have, to say thank you, to be truly happy, in you soul, in your heart, in your bones. It's learning to love who you are and to stop expecting perfection, but instead to realize that your best is more than good enough.

Overall, I have found that the more you seek beauty, the more you will find it. And overall, all beauty lies in God. 

I wrote this poem because I needed an anthem. I read it whenever I need to hear these words, and I hope you will do the same.



I am not beautiful
With the black, dramatic slashes
Of perfectly applied
Liquid cat eyes
Or the long, false lashes
Fluttering in the wind of a
Perfectly placed fan
Blowing styled hair back,
Hair-sprayed hard
Like a cold, plastic mannequin

I am beautiful in freckles.
I am beautiful with dark circles uncovered
Eyelashes bare
And my soul open as
The highway to my hometown
I am beautiful when my grandmother hugs me
When I listen to her talk of the old days,
And we both laugh at how
Some things never change
I am beautiful when I
Run through the vineyards,
Hair tangled,
Sun shining on my smiling face,
My heart full

I am not beautiful
Starved, pinned up, sprayed back, repressed.
I am not beautiful
Bearing the weight of the
World's ugly expectations

And I don't need you
With your harsh commentaries
And your judgmental words

I see no beauty
In the ugly things you say
Or the empty way you look at me

I am beautiful.
You are beautiful.
We are beautiful.

And nothing can change that.