DECONSTRUCTION

from SHEI Digital // Vol.7 Iss.7

by SHEI Magazine

GLITCHED

DIRECTOR

TAVLEEN GIL

STYLISTS

KAILANA DEJOIE COURTNEY MASS

PHOTOGRAPHER

ED TIAN

GRAPHIC DESIGNER

SOPHIE LEVIT

MODEL

JOSIAH RENTSCHLER

To Be a PAINTER

It was not until the moment of my birth that my gender was revealed to my mother. And there I was, a girl. Her lack of prior knowledge meant I came home from the hospital wrapped neatly in shades of green, the seemingly perfect color choice for a baby whose gender was unknown. Looking back, this seems almost ironic, as if maybe my green accessories were a sign that I was doomed from the start to never fully embody femininity.

I sometimes find the colors of myself are hard to describe. As a person of color, my worldview is glossed over with a different hue than my White friends around me. This inevitably plays a role in my acts of self expression; however, there seems to be another layer mixed in. In being both a person of color and a woman, my multiple identities combine to form a new pigment: a color I find to be underappreciated and underrepresented. The careful mixing process is too much for some to bear; I feel as though the color I embody remains untouched on the palette. While my other friends saw themselves represented in a multitude of mediums, I am not offered the same luxury. Coming to such a conclusion has led me to go through waves of love and hate for the colors I find more easily identifiable.

Truthfully, I don’t think it is all that uncommon for girls to go through a phase where they hate the color pink, and I was no exception. Looking back on it, aside from the rebellious undertones of it all, a big part of this was the association I had between the “girly-girls” and whiteness. When I envisioned someone who was feminine, I thought of skirt-wearing girls with painted nails and skin just pale enough to harbor deep pink blushes in their cheeks. They looked nothing like me. If that was what’s supposed to be girly, how would I ever fit into that cate gory? And thus, I tossed aside my femi ninity and stepped into a newfound light of boy-like clothing, leaving behind a trail of White, well-manicured Barbies and pink frilly accessories in my wake.

enough to harbor deep pink blushes in their cheeks. They looked nothing like me. If that was what’s supposed to be girly, how would I ever fit into that category? And thus, I tossed aside my femininity and stepped into a newfound light of boy-like clothing, leaving behind a trail of White, well-manicured Barbies and pink frilly accessories in my wake.

With time, my outlook on clothing and therefore my style as a whole came to change. As I progressed into my teenage years, I found myself beginning to enjoy more traditionally feminine styles again. Like many other girls attempting to navigate through such growing pains, I turned to social media. I poured over Instagram and Pinterest, saving pictures of other girls for inspiration as I tried to develop my own style. However, I found that most of the media I consumed surrounded women who did not resemble me. The disconnect came down to our differing skintones, and I soon became hyper aware of my own pigmentation. I came to see the brown tones that make up my skin and hair color as my foe, nothing more than a tool to keep me at an arm’s length from Westernized beauty standards. I felt as though brown made all of my features so basic. What was there to find exciting about brown eyes and brown hair? After being force fed pretty pale women with long, light, and easily maintained hair, I began to feel as though dressing what I saw to be cute and trendy would not close the gap between me and my White friends.

This feeling persevered for quite some time, until eventually, I aged a few years, and began to see other women of color describe experiences in dealing with the beauty standard that felt very similar to my own. It felt like for the first time I was truly seeing people who looked like me happily expressing themselves. They allowed their brown hair and brown skin to represent femininity, masculinity, and everything in between. In becoming aware of their color against my previously white background, I began to see my own racial identity in a new light.

Through growth and experience, I’ve come to realize the depictions of femininity I’ve felt so disconnected from all this time are not universal. I’m freely able to express my own gender in whatever ways I see fit; the canvas is mine to plaster with hues of my choosing, nothing more required. My previous resentment for femininity simply stemmed from what I believed to be inadequacies that kept me at bay from fitting in with my peers, but I’ve come to learn it is unfair to expect myself to paint a picture identical to those around me when I have been given a different palette from the beginning.

Now, nearly 19 years later, I find myself curled up in the comfort of my room, surrounded by walls of earthy green- a nice, secondary color. Some may call it sage, others pistachio, but to me, it is simply my favorite color, an extension of myself and the ways I can be expressive. If I take the time to look closely enough, I can see the parts of both my race and gender mix together to tell my story. Perhaps I do embody shades of green after all.