I was taking photos of a famous man who is also a motivational speaker and he made it his business to tell me that I would be more beautiful and get further in my career if I didn't wear my glasses.
I smiled. I smiled the smile I hate. The one that won't let the knives and thistles out.
I smiled with my mouth. Only my mouth. Only the tiniest corners of my mouth. Because that's what I did before. The smile I learned. The smile good girls smile.
The same smile I smiled when I was minding my business and my body out for a walk when a white man on a bike rode past me and said "I love sweet black pussy." I did not want to smile. But smile came first. He was already down the street when my body thawed and I could get my fuck yous together.
Why were we taught to smile? To be so polite and pretty?
A woman I knew and confided in told me once that I was overweight because I had been sexually abused and I didn't want people to find me beautiful. That is not true. But I smiled. You know, her feelings and all.
I like to wear jeans, funky tshirts, glasses with big frames. A co worker asked why I try to make myself so ugly with my face as pretty as it is. You know what I did. You know.
An ex lover I hate to this day used to undress me in bed as I slept. When his fingers finally began to acid my skin, I left. My no was not enough for him to obey. I saw him a year after our breakup. Me in my jeans, Wonder Woman tshirt and big round glasses in dark brown frame. He lifted my chin with his fingers and shook his head no. I didn't smile. Just backed away slow.
I have grown to loathe my smile. The way my lips ocean. How my teeth fit in my gums.
I have no more chuckle. But I laugh when it's true.
This is my body. That I have grown to control. I will not excuse disrespect.
Or smile on command.
I love your look with your glasses.
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