Beauty Standards and Disability

By Nina

Let me begin by saying that this topic has been unexpectedly difficult to write about. I’ve sat at my computer for weeks trying to write; none of the words you are reading now appeared on the page without several minutes’ thought. The reason for this, I’ve realized, is that beauty standards have impacted me so greatly that I find myself at a loss for words.

I was born with an extremely rare genetic disorder that has stunted my bone and muscle development. As a result, I’m very small for my age, and I have limited movement in my hands and feet. I also have various craniofacial differences. So, because of my disability, my physical appearance is pretty unique. And, as much as I wish I could say otherwise, I’ve struggled a lot with body image insecurity over the past few years. My troubles began when I entered sixth grade. I became more aware of just how much my disability set me apart from others. So, I’ve sought to hide my disability from myself; I don’t want to be reminded of my differences. I wear pants as much as possible to hide my legs, and I never wear sandals or go barefoot: I don’t like showing the surgical scars on my feet. I think I have these habits to shield myself from my own fears more than any actual situation that might occur if I were to dress the way I wanted to. Now, I’m a junior in high school, and things are starting to get better. It’s almost June, and I’ve been wearing shorts occasionally. However, I’ve still got a long way to go to regain my self-confidence. In class a few weeks ago, my English teacher asked us to fill out a survey on beauty standards. These were some of the questions:

What is your definition of beauty in general?
Is there anything about yourself that you are insecure about?
Do you ever feel like an outsider for looking different?

I was floored. I found myself unable to answer these questions. I know what the correct answers are supposed to be, but I don’t know what my answer is. I’ve never really thought about beauty standards before. So, in my desperation to find an answer, I pulled out my old school books. Pictured above are the doodles I’ve found in the margins of notebooks, worksheets, and agenda books throughout my three years in high school. Assembled together in a collage, it’s easy to see how beauty standards have impacted me. None of those drawings look like me. In fact, the only drawing I was able to find of myself is very upsetting. I found it in a journalism notebook from sophomore year. A caption below it read “a self portrait ¯\_(ツ)_/¯”. I don’t remember drawing that picture, but clearly I was feeling bad about my appearance that day.

I wish I could feel beautiful, but most days I feel more like the girl I drew in journalism than myself. I’ve managed to internalize this and avoid thinking about it. But this survey brought those feelings to the surface. And after a week of deep introspection on this subject, I’ve figured out what I need to change about myself. My answer to the question, “What is your definition of beauty?” has never included someone who looks like me. And that’s why I feel like such an outsider all of the time.

My definition of beauty has been unquestionably been shaped by the world around me. I never see disabled fashion models, and I barely ever see actors or actresses with disabilities (which is what killed my middle school dream of being an actress). As a disabled woman, I’m especially reminded of my physical differences due to the beauty standards prevalent in our society. Women are expected to conform to those standards. Look at my collage of doodles again-- it’s easy to see the “ideal” body type. A ridiculous amount of attention is given to achieving this ideal; this is the result of centuries of subjugation of women. Women were (and are) seen merely as brides and mothers, and for this reason, physical beauty is viewed as the most important quality a woman can have.

This is where beauty standards tie back in to disability. Women with physical disabilities don’t conform to the beauty standards perpetuated in the world around us. Even in the movement to end unfair beauty standards, there is a significant lack of disability voice and inclusion. This suggests that disabled people can’t be beautiful. I try not to take this to heart, but it’s been a huge challenge in my life. I’m living through middle and high school in denial of the possibility that I am beautiful.

How do we move forward? I know I’m not alone in feeling this way about my disability. I’m trying to regain the self-confidence I had when I was little, and I know I’ll get there in a few years. Opening up and talking about my struggle is a major step for me. But as a society that is attempting to reflect and put an end to oppression, the definition of beauty needs to expand to include disability. We look different from able-bodied people-- in diverse and varying ways. But that shouldn’t make us outsiders.