An Open Letter To The Media About Beauty

Dear Media, 

Remember that confident little girl who said she’d be an architect? 

She stopped drawing.

She thought one day, “What am I drawing for…

when  I can design a new and improved body…

when I can be beautiful.” 

“Why waste my time with these lines 

when I’m not valued for my talents and intellect?” 

“Why be a leader?”

“Why be a dreamer

if my worth is going to be measured by my breast size?”

She crumpled up 

Her passion 

like the paper 

she threw away 

when you told her beauty was in 

flawless skin, straight hair

That she was wasting time 

in her drawing chair 

She tirelessly edited and erased 

Herself 

Her ambition 

She picked and fried and waxed 

until she was too tired to draw 

even if she wanted to anymore 

People complimented 

her frail frame 

and finally told her, “You’re beautiful!” 

The attention she never got 

For being strong 

For her work

These compliments 
made her high 

But the joy was quick

Not sweet, not full 

It didn’t 

sustain her 

Like when her teacher 
hung her drawing and said, 

“You can go far with this.” 

She carried that joy for days 

And days. 

One day she picked up her pencil 

shaking 

And finally 

felt like herself again 

Peace 

She drew beauty
Her own design

She found 

that when she thought of the most 

Beautiful people 

Her own definition 

They were not walking down runways, 

They were climbing up a flag poles.

They were not showing their ribs,

They were sharing their wisdom. 

They were not competing for a man, 

They were running for president.  

They were not begging for validation, 

They were fighting for justice. 

They were holding the hand of a sick loved one. 

They were teaching in inner city schools. 

They were the ones 

Still asking about 

Those drawings she used to do 

Remember that confident little girl who said she’d be a writer?  

She’s writing again. 

Rachel Griffin