“You present well.” -My therapist, to me

My Linklater voice professor in college shared a story about when she played the character, Blanche DuBois, from Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire. To get into character, she imagined that she was always surrounded by mirrors, constantly checking her reflection and adjusting herself to maintain an image. And I thought, “Wait...I do that!”

I have been this way for as long as I can remember—exceedingly aware of how others see me and how I see myself. I was raised to show up in the world in this way. In Yoruba culture, reputation is everything; my siblings and I knew not to behave in ways that would reflect poorly on our parents. And I’ve carried that with me; as I’ve gotten older, the focus shifted from protecting my parents’ reputation to maintaining my own. I never wanted to be caught slippin’. My philosophy was, and still is: "If you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready."

When I was a little girl, my father taught me that being dark-skinned and Black and female meant that I would be constantly looked, passed, and screwed over. So to counteract the mistreatment I would undoubtedly receive, I turned up my self-consciousness. If I could predict how I’m viewed, I can control the outcome, right? Pshhhh…..

Self-consciousness sits on my shoulders like bra straps. Sometimes the weight of it hurts my back. Intellectually, I know that I cannot control how people treat me based on how I present. But anecdotally, I know that people treat me so much better when I put effort into my appearance. Reflecting back on times when I was too depressed to put effort into my outward appearance, I remember feeling invisible when I went out. In those times, I was reduced to bodily features (i.e. “Damn! Look at that ass!”) rather than being respected as a whole person. It has proven true that the more groomed and dressed up I am, the nicer people are to me. Does that niceness work to my advantage? Absolutely. That’s how privilege works. 

I am just recently recognizing that privilege in action since I could not see it in the past when friends pointed it out. It turns out my self-consciousness birthed a pattern of self-critique. I foresaw all of my flaws that others could point out, making the mirrors surrounding me foggy. The foggy mirrors led to a skewed perception of my beauty. In my mind, I was working extra hard to look average. Today, I see that ain’t nothin’ average about me.

I am still surrounded by invisible mirrors. I’ve recently become a content creator, which means that I see photos and videos of myself daily. It's fascinating when I don't appear the way I imagined I would on camera. The people who engage with my content online are also mirrors, only they talk back. So are my loved ones; their feedback keeps me grounded. The mirrors that surround me are now kind and affirming. I smile at my reflection now.