For The Sake of Fashion

“Pinch your nose,” says my mother in a soft voice. A warm smile follows her low murmur, “It’ll make it smaller.” These were the words whispered to me in my youth whenever there was time to spare—waiting for haircuts, watching TV, laying in bed. In her own traditional way, this had been my mother’s expression of love: encouraging her daughter to be in favor of the majority. My mother had no ill intent, and I could never resent her for the years of transgenerational trauma. It was the assumed secret to beauty, a misconception of anatomy, that was ingrained into the minds of girls of all ages that beauty had one definition.

I had always wanted to be white because of this. White people were the ones who got to kiss in the rain, have their dream job, save the world. Growing up wanting to be a filmmaker and seeing no Asian representation not only on screen but behind the screen, I convinced myself at a young age that there was no space for me in the industry. I craved representation so badly that I would look up to dark-haired white women as they had the closest resemblance to the features I was born with. I would identify with Jane Lane from Daria (1997) for her black hair when she did not have almond-shaped eyes like me or a flat nose like me. Characters like Jane made me feel seen, like I didn’t have to pinch my nose and widen my eyes to be important, because at least I had the dark hair that they had, too.

The fox eye makeup trend was recently popularized by universally beautiful women such as Kendall Jenner and Bella Hadid, and encouraged many makeup-enthusiasts to lift their eyes using cosmetics, and in extreme cases, surgery. Those who have participated in this makeup trend do this to make their eyes seem more narrow than they naturally are, utilizing their hands to pull at their eyes in order to present the illusion of slanted eyes, which are predominantly Asian features.

This was not the representation that I yearned for.

All my life, I sought out for white validation. Constantly asking, “Do they like Asian girls though?” before I could think to romantically invest in someone. Guilt and shame was what I used to feel about my skin, my eyes, my nose, my food, and my traditions. I wanted to be pretty in the eyes of the world, but the world only saw white. “You’re pretty for an Asian girl,” made me feel less than a second option. I was willing to forget the beauty that my mother holds, my aunt holds, my grandmother holds in order to receive this temporary, trivial validation and comply with the Eurocentric beauty standards that would never go out of fashion. I lost myself trying to convince white people that I was just like them.

I, along with many other Asian-Americans who grew up feeling shame for what they looked like, never had the option to wash away the shape of my eyes with makeup remover. Pulling at one’s eyes has historically been perceived as a racist gesture against Asian people, and now people do it because of aesthetic appeal as if the discrimination we have faced as a community has been completely disregarded. The non-Asian participants of this trend will never be called derogatory terms that an Asian individual, with those naturally almond-shaped eyes has been called sometime in their life. This is similar to the concept of “Blackfishing,” when white women twist their appearance (usually by tanning their skin in drastic measures) to appear ethnically ambiguous, particularly Black. These white women will never have to experience the racism, oppression, and discrimination that Black people have faced solely based on their skin color. At the end of the summer, the tans and trends will fade, but an Asian person’s eyes and a Black person’s skin will not.

I had to choose whether to live with the fear of rejection based on something I was born with or to live with love for not only myself but the history that is associated with my face. I won’t deny that the fox eye trend makes women look beautiful, but that is part of the problem. Once again, the media has convinced me that I want to have European features. After realizing that there aren’t enough hours in my lifetime to pinch my nose until it’s magically smaller or until a nose bridge pops up, why do I still want to be a white girl?

But shouldn’t I be grateful? Shouldn’t I be grateful that the media now thinks my features are beautiful and desirable? Should I also be grateful that my features and my body parts have become trends? Why are my features only pretty when it’s on people that can take it off at the end of the day? This recent fascination - emphasis on recent - with narrow eyes will disappear, but Eurocentric beauty will be a constant expectation. The beauty that non-Asian people achieve by participating in the fox eye trend erases the years of discrimination and bullying Asians have faced for their natural eyes and fetishizes Asian features all for the sake of fashion.

Fortunately, as we grow, we learn to be more accepting of ourselves regardless of the media we consume. I don’t pinch my nose anymore, and my mom doesn’t tell me to either. I’ve embraced my appearance, because it is uniquely mine. My nose, my eyes, my lips, my cheeks—they’re all mine. I don’t want to be someone else’s beautiful anymore. I’m learning that I am my own beautiful, which is something that everyone should learn whether they fit Eurocentric beauty standards or not.

By Cassiel Arcilla

(she/her)

Edited by Halima Jibril