The Lesbian Beauty

From neck down, I am the ultimate “filthy feminist” - untouched body hair, no bra, and occasionally I bust out the wide legged three-quarter pants which apparently strike fear into the hearts of snowflake meninists. But curiously, the Tumblr worthy image suddenly stops at roughly my chin. From there up, I am the capitalist patriarchy’s dream girl. My face is covered in hundreds of dollars of skincare and makeup, hair products for my curls which I can’t bear the thought of shaving off, and semi-permanent eyelash and eyebrow tint. I’m well aware that half the lotions and potions I smear on my face twice a day every day don’t actually work and that I was just drawn in by the pretty white packaging and the promise of buyable beauty. I’m well aware that make up is gendered, inherently oppressive, and even my glittery, bright pink smokey eyes aren't “artistic” enough to escape the conventional beauty standard conformity they embody. I could go on about how much I enjoy blending eyeshadows, the coolness of fresh foundation when it touches your face, but I’m well aware that if I didn't feel societal pressure to wear makeup I probably… wouldn’t.

I know this because when I’m heading out to somewhere I know I will see attractive people - or might see attractive people - I will wear more makeup than if not. Because I’ll do my hair up nicer if I’m in the company of people whom I care what they think of my looks. Because I’ll make sure my eyelashes and eyebrows are freshly tinted if I won’t be able to wear makeup - at the beach, or an overnight gig of some description. And it’s oppressive; the money, the hours of sleep I miss because I’m applying concealer in the morning or removing mascara at night, the stress of planning ahead for beauty routines on the go. They’re small, but they add up into a daily life where your confidence and your desirability are contingent on the money you spend on little bits of silicone and coloured pigment wrapped in plastic.

Essentially, my build-a-girl self project has so far failed in seceding the male gaze. “The male gaze” simply denotes that attractiveness, specifically of cis women, is defined by what men enjoy. Beauty is not objective, and in this society beauty is constructed by and for straight men. By not-so-radical extension, the beauty and fashion industries are geared towards making women desirable to a male standard. Every Dove advertisement, every strappy red piece of lace with bows on it in Bras N’ Things tells me I’m not particularly beautiful, but I could be if I spend money on the right things. “Beauty” is toxic, and I’m swimming in it.

The indicator of success in escaping the male gaze would be when I stop feeling proud of my conventional beauty. When I stop being smug that I have the “right” kind of butt, the “correct” fashion sense (one that shows off said butt), and “flattering” makeup. When I stop mentally linking men who want to kiss me with men who think I’m “beautiful”, because I will understand that I cannot trust men’s standard of what “beautiful” is.

I met a girl who was not “beautiful”. Her hair was a mixture of short and oddly shaved, she wore low-rise jeans and a terrible button up shirt, her eyebrows were pale. And in the saga of being maybe sort of kinda a little bit queer sometimes, I thought she was gorgeous. Where the expectation for blonde eyelashes is to coat them in mascara because it frames the eyes better, where the norm is long hair falling suggestively over a girl’s shoulders, I thought her face-bareness and hair-shortness was one of the best things I’d ever seen.

There is a long history of lesbian fashion as a political statement and an identifier. Queer writer Judith Butler recounts walking down the street in a poorly fitting brown suit, and being yelled at “you look like a lesbian!” to which she answered “Well, I am”. Lesbians have been called “ugly” for forever and a day because “ugly” is the antithesis of “beautiful”. And “beautiful” means desirable to straight men.

Lesbian beauty is perhaps the most radical defiance of the patriarchy because it does not conform to the male gaze. Women who are beautiful to other women will not buy beauty products or wear mainstream clothes created for male tastes because they have no interest in being attractive for men. Conventional beauty is useless when male validation has no place in your life.

There is a danger in conforming to the male gaze - looking desirable for men invites unwanted touch, or the feared stare of boys who think they own a pretty body. Being “beautiful” is scary and painful and tiring and dehumanising. But women will not hurt you or force you to change your body to something more porn-worthy; I feel an incredible sense of safety in the presence of lesbian beauty. The expectation of spending my time, my money, of submitting myself to the pain of plucking, ripping and scrubbing disappears, and I am allowed to be a full human.

I will probably continue to wear makeup, to tear hairs from my eyebrows and be enticed by “thigh firming” workouts offered at the pilates studio. But this is because I will probably continue to be attracted to men, and swallow the bullshit beauty standards they enforce.

Hannah