The Crown Weighs Heavy
I try and not look into the mirror too much lately.
To be exact, I try and not to see much of my reflection. When I clean up nicely and take a look at her, I see the girl that is far hidden from the world, and I am not talking about fake-face or wearing a mask like in one of those gloomy girl’s diary. My problem is simple.
It’s all physical.
What the world gets to see of me is always the me that is stripped out from my physical appearance. What I wear and how I dress forces people to judge me for who I am, personality and intelligence wise. They don’t see how baby doll dresses look when they hug my tiny figures. They don’t see the way my hair falls into a fair frame around my square jaw that sparks a fair amount of attractiveness.
Sometimes I want the world to see.
At times, I wish the world can see that I have so much more going on for me other than loose tops and long skirt. That I, too, have what the world standardize as ‘beauty’. I hate myself for even letting these thoughts crawl and get underneath my skin, and I hate that I allow myself to feel good when us girls play dress-up and I hear compliments when I wear sleeveless dresses that falls just above the knee.
I am never this self-conscious before. I am always proud with how I can feel good about myself without long locks and short skirts. These thoughts are dangerous place in the corner of my mind. I didn’t need this negativity now of all time, and so I went into the salon without a second thought to get a drastic haircut.
I wanted to be ugly. Different. Something that makes me not want to show myself into the world.
I didn’t get to do it in the end.
At home, I stared into the reflection in the mirror some more.
Maybe I can post just one photo without Hijab.
Maybe I can take off my Hijab at school and roll my sleeves for a day and see how people reacts.
Maybe people will see me different then if I dress like everyone else.
These thoughts pass through my mind in a frequent amount that I broke down and right down cried. God must be so upset with me right now. I don’t want to take off my Hijab. I can’t take it off after wearing it for so long.
I am so lucky, I try to tell myself. There are plenty of girls who wish they have the same courage to do what I am considering leaving behind. I am so lucky that I am taught to keep my honor and decency only to those who deserve it, I tell myself each time. Don’t let them get to me, I chant. Why do I have to be pressured to please the world when I can keep things to only those who matters and deserving, who won’t judge, and will see me first for who I am despite my physical appearance?
I am currently not in a good place with myself.
My environment and the people in my social ring don’t make things easier.
I try and tell myself beauty comes in all sort of different ways. If there are people who see bikini as an empowering clothing, then there must be people who see non-revealing clothes empowering as well.
I tell myself that those whose views of beauty are different from mine are simply taught differently and have different beliefs on beauty.
People are just different that way, I tell myself.
I will believe this one day.