through the looking glass.
Where our perceptions are distorted and strange.
Little girls should grow up in a world,
where they see women who are strong and smart and kind,
“I want to be like that”.
Instead they see models and actresses who are bubbly and pristine and “perfect”,
“I want to look like that”.
They don’t see enough women who are shaped by self love,
but too many who are shaped by a mouse pointer and a photoshop program.
They are told that there is one way to look,
not told with words but with what they see in our world.
The magazines, billboards, and the running loop of shows on flat screen TVs.
The models who I can’t tell apart for the life of me.
The ads upon ads all telling the same bland story of products that will fix them.
They see one way to be beautiful, one way to be accepted.
And so mirrors don’t show them what makes them special,
only refract what makes them feel flawed.
While they obsess over what others see on the outside, they forget who they are on the inside.
So when they are silently crying over countless makeup brushes and bottles,
frying their hair till it lies flat and lifeless,
or getting that much closer to their goal weight,
they feel perfect.
Unless we tell them that perfect is not a synonym for happy.
Unless we tell them to spend the hours they used to spend trying to change themselves instead trying to become themselves.
Until we tell them to look and act not the way that seems best,
but the way that feels right.
So they remember they are people, not dolls dressed up pretty in plastic dream houses.
People who are strong and smart and kind, and most of all beautiful in their own skin.
Only then, can we break
this looking glass.