i’ve always been a pretty girl-

and that’s what people remember

long eyelashes fluttering above my almond eyes

wrists so delicate you’re afraid to touch them because

they’ll snap at any sudden movement

cheekbones so defined they’re almost hollow

“you’re so lovely,” they would say

 

lovely

 

and i never understood how they could miss the fire

smouldering out of my fingertips

or the way i trained my voice to be strong even when

my throat closed up and i couldn’t get enough

air in my body to speak without struggling

 

my intelligence was overlooked even though i joined

into their heated conversation about politics and

my points were articulated so much more eloquently than

any of the entitled men at the table

 

“lovely,” he said, as he ran his fingers up my thigh

 

as if looking lovely is an invitation

and i know people like to touch pretty things but

they should never mistake a poisonous flower for

being just pretty when

caressing her petals will burn you inside out

 

i was told my beauty was a gift but why do i

feel like i’m trapped in a body that everyone wants to look at

except me because i want to show them my mind instead and

why does being beautiful mean that a woman is not

taken seriously even when i have

ideas that could build an empire

 

lovely

 

they sprinkle me with rose water and

feed me nectar in hopes that i’ll be

sweeter and

maybe even softer

that i’ll turn into the girl they want me to be

the one who severs her vocal chords and swallows her dignity

so that when she opens her mouth and tries to form

the words she’s forgotten how to speak

it isn’t her voice that comes out at all

 

lovely

 

i come from a long line of lovely women

who feel the need to shrink themselves down in order to

make space for people who don’t deserve it

and their stories get lost because their voices have

been lost and maybe that’s why

when people talk to me about my physical appearance

i feel grateful

of course it’s nice to be called beautiful by

a boy with soft eyes and a heartbeat that seems

to align perfectly with yours

 

i’ve always been a pretty girl but sometimes

i wish people would look at me and say

“you’re inspiring,” or

“you make me want to be better,” or

“i love the way you think,” and so

 

i’ll work until i am remembered for so much more

than being just

 

lovely

 

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this post stems from the gift and the curse that is beauty. for years now, the one thing people remember about me is my physical appearance, and i’ve grown accustomed to equating my beauty to my worth. it is one of the only things i constantly seek validation for, and one of the only things i wish i could disregard. i so badly want people to see me as more than just “lovely”, when i know i am so much more than the surface level interactions individuals have with me. i hope that one day people will call me resilient, strong, intellectual and powerful before they call me beautiful or lovely, but most of all, i hope one day i can see myself as more than lovely.