If you’re anything like me, when you get time to yourself you might pop open your Twitter feed or begin to scroll through, what I affectionately call, “the Instagrams.”
If I get bored with my own feed, I might pop on over to the explore page. As I get my scroll on, I can’t help but notice that the women on my timeline, some that I may or may not actually follow, sort of all look the same. Beautiful as ever, exquisitely laid and presumably compliant baby hairs, booking info in their bios, and anywhere from 4-9 ethnicities listed after the airplane emoji.
As a petite, slender, black woman (who must have been standing steady in the creativity line when God was passing out the curves), it’s become fairly difficult to scroll through Instagram, open a magazine, turn on the radio, or watch television. From the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep, I would have to avoid opening my eyes and cut off my ears to avoid seeing or hearing lyrics about an Instagram chick.
Though there is a rising community in kinky, curly haired goddesses taking pride in themselves of all shapes and sizes, it’s still very difficult to get an accurate view or perspective of what is currently appreciated in society. It seems that every woman is 5’4 carrying around a stripper booty and a rack like ‘wowwwww’, an invisible waist, imported mink eyelashes, and Armenian eyebrows.
Basically every woman I come across on the internet is some variation of Kim Kardashian.
And it seems to be all the men on my Twitter timeline salivate over, day in and day out. I’m not even sure when the last time I saw a #WCW featuring someone who wasn’t mixed with Jesus’ robe threads and Kylie Jenner .
So where do the regular, degular, and smegular bla
Now, I know what you’re thinking. If it’s such a problem, there are many viable solutions! In this day and age where I can totally skip the work out and lovely lady lumps are becoming more and more easy to procure, I can’t say I haven’t thought about eating Popeyes every day for a year and cutting out all exercise just so I could have some sort of fat to transfer to my hips and thighs. I mean, I’m not above purchasing the backside that the body-con dress was born to wrap itself around. The idea actually crosses my mind each time I’m on the internet, but the way my account is set up… the only thing I can afford to change is my mind.
All this hoping and wishing brings about the question: If I were to enhance my curves would it even make a difference? Yes, we know that half of the men who post these #WCW’s of exotic women have procreated with and/or dated a woman with a large abdomen and a roller wrap. Yes, we realize that things posted to Instagram are posted for their aesthetic value, and it’s not possible for everyone to be flawless at every second of the day #InRealLife. But it doesn’t negate the fact that these features, the features that black women are supposedly born with, are more appreciated and accepted in society by non-black women. Angelina Jolie is praised for her full lips and Kylie Jenner is transforming like B(Optimus) Prime into a black woman before our eyes yet.
When MAC cosmetics posted a picture of full heart-shaped lips on their page, it was met with horrid racist commentary. Sudanese model Nykhor Paul faced major backlash for naturally sporting the very lips that are celebrated daily on white women. This double standard reeks of the Saartije Baartman narrative, but that’s for a different day and soapbox.
What puzzles me most is when I show up to an interview trying my hardest to conceal a slim waist, thick ass, and giving them whiplash would it come off too urban, would I be considered permanently unprofessional no matter what I wear? Or if my Brazilian tracks were inherited or if I had icy blue eyes… Would I even have to consider my shape when walking into an interview?
Perhaps that’s the fantasy both men and women have of the “other” woman…. Amazing to look at, to desire, and in my case… to be fake jealous of. But when it comes down to it….
We all have our crosses to bear and our stereotypes to wear.