Movie Reflection
"The Ugly Stepsister"
Last month, my dear Lauren hosted a movie night for four sweet friends to come together. She spread out blankets and pillows for us to snuggle up and watch The Ugly Stepsister, a unique Cinderella story to say the least. The movie is deeply painful and grotesque as the lead character destroys herself for the attainment of beauty, yet relatable in every way as a woman - perfect to watch while huddled together in blankets and sisterhood. There’s a specific scene that stuck with me - a man with a sinister smirk made the lead character a green dress adorned with yellow and beige ruffles and pink flowers, which she promptly tried on. She looked at herself in the mirror, beaming at her reflection, feeling utterly beautiful, only for this menacing figure standing behind her to grab her breasts and lift them up to fit the image he desired. Her face fell immediately, suddenly all she was to the world was a body meant for men to pose and use and abuse. My friend Olivia quickly exclaimed “that’s the man in my head when I look in the mirror.” We had a fruitful discussion about the ways we constantly pick and prod at ourselves, and it’s never out of our own impulse. We live in a society where existing for the male gaze is still the leading goal of the beauty space. With a life lived so plugged in, it’s impossible to escape, and the threads of true intrinsic desire vs patriarchal influence are tangled seemingly beyond remedy. In reflection, I thought of the way patriarchy has made a home for itself in my head, uninvited. This is what the man inside my head feels like for me:
__________________
The man in my head picks me apart in the mirror
The man in my head is the one who puts on anti aging eye cream to smooth 27 year old “wrinkles.” The one who tries to flatten swollen under-eye bags, as if precise pressure and expensive skincare could cure me of sleepless nights. The one who searches “how much does forehead Botox cost” on Google at 3 am. The one who presses the pad of my index finger against the sharp chip in my front tooth hard enough to break skin. The one who moves my nails to pick and press at blackheads and cysts, until every unsightly pore is “clear”. The one who forces me to look back into a mirror at a face bleeding, flaking, oozing and peeling. A face that’s never enough for him.
The man in my head is the one who squeezes the underbelly of my arms in a pincer grip. The one who flaps these arms like wings, not because he believes I’m free enough to fly, but to cage me within flutterings of fat. The one who swiftly lifts my chin to ensure a shadow doesn’t create a double, and grasps the soft flesh in disgust, anyway. Who counts the amount of calories I stuff into my face during another night of binge eating. Who sucks in my stomach to shrink and bind and suffocate me.
The man in my head has fangs that whisper and pierce and puncture. He tells me that beauty is pain, and there’s nothing else worthy of striving for. He tells me he hates the outfit I feel most myself in, urges me to show more skin, but never too much. He tells me to smile more and take it. I’m not worthy if I’m not wanted, and he is the one who gets to decide.
The man in the mirror is cruel, but he is not me. I do not choose to bend to the will of evil men, yet my arms move to fulfill his prophecy. Halting the familiar movement of my own self destruction takes strength I don’t always have. Radical self love is resistance, shrinking and quieting the man in my head to ignorable measure, when I practice. If I choose not to feed his greedy mouth, he retreats. Every painful pattern broken cuts the strings of the marionette. Tedious pruning- one string at a time and they are prone to re-tethering. But I keep trying, if he can cut deep, so can I.
_______________________
Do you notice the voice in your head constantly telling you that you are not enough? Where does it come from? What feeds it, and what allows it to retreat? Acknowledging this voice as separate from myself has helped me turn down its volume, even if only slightly. May we all cut the strings of the marionette and be free from expectations set by men, who never should have had this power over us in the first place.
All my love,
-Katie
Music Recs:
Florence Road’s new EP: Spring Forward
Loud Bark by Mannequin Pussy
Jumpstart by Noah Floersch
Such Small Hands by La Dispute
Little Acts of Violence by Ray Bull
I Want You to Love Me by Fiona Apple
Wild Cat by Cat Clyde
Fed Up by DWLLRS
Sixteen by Rainbow Kitten Surprise
Wants Needs by Bartees Strange
Pop by Mackeeper
Knowing by Tessa Violet
Movie Recs:
The Ugly Stepsister
Project Hail Mary
Other Recs:
Always keep up to date with ACLU for human rights efforts you can be involved with, however big or however small:
I’m writing a poem every day the month of April here on Substack Notes and on my Instagram KaeBrights, feel free to follow along! https://www.aclu.org/action