Winter makes me think more, so it seems. Or perhaps the fact that I have lost my iPod charger means that I have no choice but to get lost in my thoughts when I’m waiting for a bus, or sitting on that bus when it eventually arrives, and the habit remains even when I get home.
I was reading a comment on some news article, I think, about someone who had changed their appearance and then achieved success, when I started thinking about an event which happened four years or so ago, and which seems to have shaped, to some degree, who I now am. I opened TextEdit and started to write the following;
I remember the day I started identifying as a feminist. I think it was year eleven, and although I can’t remember the context (I think it was some work/ business workshop), we had a seminar with a woman. I think she was some kind of make up seller, or perhaps just a business woman; and the seminar was about how to present yourself. We all sat down in a classroom in the sixth form block, and she started to tell us how we needed to use what we had to take advantage of the situation. I imagine it was a Friday, I imagine I was tired and looking forward to going out that night with my friends, letting her wash over me.
Saying that we had to use what we had, as women, we had to use our looks. What had begun as a ‘wear smart clothes, looking presentable is important, you need to come over well’, had become the fact that women could only get ahead in business by looking good. Not only get ahead of men, but get ahead of women. I woke up from my Friday daze, thinking ‘this is not right’. She carried on, twittering away about how looking good in the workplace is important. At this stage, someone, it may have been me but it may not have been, asked about interviews.
“I wouldn’t hire anyone who didn’t wear make-up”, and she giggled. Anger rose in my throat. Was I not to be valued on my skills, my wit, my merit as a person, not as a decorative object? According to her, skills can only get you so far. A good CV will barely get you into the office, apparently. I don’t know if I argued back or not, but watched her show us how to apply blusher and lip-gloss, thinking to myself, ‘this is not how it should be’. I remember going home and raging about it to mother, who agreed.
Whether the world is a superficial place or not, I didn’t want to be part of that, and I still don’t. I don’t want to be judged by how pretty I am. Now, I enjoy looking nice, I wear make-up, I buy expensive clothes; but not to make myself attractive to men, nor to make myself attractive to get ahead in life. From that point on, I did a bit of research, started becoming more aware of what was going on in the world. And I thought about this seminar and what it said to me and the other girls in the classroom. Women are worth more than how they looked, and shouldn’t need to wear foundation or a short skirt to compete with men for a position in the workplace.
I guess the make-up lady didn’t achieve her aims that day, but she did inspire me to become part of something bigger and better.
