I don't want to be pretty

pretty makes you say yes when you mean no
and wonder how you look while you come.

pretty is a concept born of prejudice and oppression
a weapon too useful to too few
that flatters you as it binds your hands.

for years i mistook pretty for power
i picked and scrubbed
and starved myself
into the shape of something that couldn’t feel pain
a dangerous object
thick with false armor
that i prayed would hide how bad i was.

now i understand
that there is power in pretty,
it just isn’t mine
that i can cut like a knife
and still exist to be used.

when i’m honest with myself
i’ll admit
that i am extremely possessive
i like being the boss
and channelling my will into action.
so if it’s not mine,
if it’s not up to me,
i’m not interested.

now i know that pretty can’t be power
if it’s for other people to decide.

ugly, though—
ugly gives me plenty of space.
it bleeds and breathes
and embraces the residue of trauma
like necessary texture
in an expansive narrative.
ugly is about subjectivity and nakedness
it is a guiding principle
that honors my whole being
in all its complexity
without apology
ugly is the uncompromising force
that makes real power possible.

i don’t know how my thinking will evolve
as i enter a phase of defining myself on my own terms
but i know that i’m done asking other people how i should feel about myself.
i still want to connect deeply with others
and to be kind and beautiful and loved
but i do not want to be pretty, not anymore.