Jaquie Brown’s inquiry
Should I be airbrushed? My surprise epiphany
Breaking with tradition this week, my question actually comes from me to the editor of the Sunday Star-Times Jonathan Milne. As we have butted heads over many emails I’ve been forced to examine my motivation – and I’ve had an epiphany. (And because this is my column I’m going to answer my own question).
QDear Jonathan, why won’t you photoshop my images before publishing them? I look old and tired, my skin looks like it’s sagging under my chin, can’t you clean that up? I can’t give my permission to release these images without some kind of retouching; they make me feel bad about myself. – Jaquie, Auckland
AAnd there you have it. Images of myself, au naturel, as I appear in person, made me feel bad about myself. How did that even happen? Was I so used to seeing photoshopped images that now the real me was unacceptable?
Now, I’m under no illusion about my looks. I’m not a model, I’m ‘‘interesting’’. I know this. I work with what I’ve got, I try to embrace my flaws and I’m happy with who I am. But truthfully, I am a bit vain. I rarely post anything without a filter and always delete any unflattering shots. A ‘like’ on Instagram or a comment about me looking good tickles my ego. I’m not ashamed to say it.
I’m a mum, so I’m tired pretty much constantly, I just don’t want to look tired constantly. I love filters and photoshop like I love donuts. Probably a bit too much. It feels amazing seeing myself suddenly look better. It’s intoxicating and addictive.
And if I can control the way I look on social media and in the press so I appear flawless, why wouldn’t I? Why would I want an unflattering image published that exposes the real me and all my perceived beauty inadequacies? I wouldn’t.
Celebrities here and overseas always look so good. But often I forget they’ve been photoshopped and they make me feel inadequate.
I get that there is an ‘‘aspirational’’ element to celebrity culture, fine, if you can recognise that and see it for what it is, if you know that what you are seeing is heavily curated, but not everyone can. I can’t always tell either, and it’s confusing trying to work out what’s real.
And when your real untouched face isn’t good enough for you, then the balance has tipped.
That was my epiphany. I am the problem, I have to be the change.
I was getting a knot in my stomach trying to prevent untouched images of me going out into the world. I wanted to hide behind that filtered illusion.
It dawned on me that this perfection I was fighting for was I want my daughter to look in the mirror and feel proud of her body and her face. not only unhealthy but it also had a trickle-down effect on every other female who followed me.
One female in particular. My two-year-old daughter. She follows me to the bathroom and watches me wee, so it’s a different type of follow. But without a doubt, the most important.
I am the mark that she will measure everything by.
What am I teaching her? What will she learn about me as she grows? That I feel better about my looks once they’ve been altered? That my natural face isn’t enough and, therefore, neither is hers? I want her to look in the mirror and feel proud of her body and her face. To be able to celebrate it, to not pick out flaws but to pick out her favourite parts. (There is a challenge for you too, dear reader).
I also want her to know that what she sees in the mirror is only a small part of who she is. Her personality, her cheeky sense of humour, her kindness, her cleverness – these are much more important qualities and bring with them their own, longer-lasting beauty.
Iwatched a Ted Talk recently by a woman called Meaghan Ramsey entitled ‘Why thinking you’re ugly is bad for you’. It moved me to tears actually.
She showed a video of a 13-yearold girl who, despite her mum telling her every day that she was beautiful, was confused because at school she was told she was ugly. So she posted a video on YouTube and asked people to comment: ‘‘Am I pretty or am I ugly’’, There were more than 13,000 brutal, thoughtless comments from ‘‘Ugly, ugly, ugly’’ to the disturbing ‘‘Kill yourself’’.
What’s unnerving is that thousands of teenagers are turning to YouTube and posting similar videos, looking for validation. It’s actually too much for me to bear.
Meaghan talks about the pressure our teens are under to be ‘‘online and available at all times’’. Commenting, sharing, liking. Basing their worth on their ‘‘likes’’. Never before have young people faced this kind of problem and it’s having a major detrimental effect on self-esteem and body confidence. It’s not just teens, we all feel that pressure.
In her Ted Talk, Meaghan tells us: ‘‘Women who think they are overweight, regardless of whether they are or not, have higher rates of absenteeism. Seventeen per cent of women would not turn up to a job interview on a day where they were not feeling confident about the way they look.’’
The Dove Global Beauty and Confidence Report released this week reported the findings after women were asked the extent to which being content with their looks would affect them. For 27 per cent, it would change their lives completely. Imagine what incredible things women and girls could achieve if not sidetracked by image-related self-doubt.
Girls creator and star Lena Dunham is a huge inspiration to me. In March this year, she decided to say no to Photoshop once and for all. Kate Winslet has done the same, saying she feels a responsibility to younger women. Comedian Amy Schumer recently appeared in an Annie Leibovitz photograph, her resplendent tummy rolls proudly on display.
These are women I want to measure myself by. They are real, they are beautiful and what they are doing is really important.
I’m in a unique position having this column, being in the public eye. I might not be as visible as a Kardashian but I can still be part of the change. I choose to step up.
Believe me when I tell you I don’t want to do this. I would much rather appear flawless and airbrushed. It feeds my ego.
But it’s not real and if our young people and my own kids have any chance of developing their selfesteem and self-worth beyond the online ‘‘likes’’, they need to look around and see something real reflected back at them.
So, my daughter will only ever hear me talk about my body being ‘‘my beautiful body’’. My tummy that grew two people, now a soft wrinkled pudding, will always be called ‘‘my beautiful tummy’’. My boobs that navigate south, always ‘‘my beautiful boobs’’.
And I’ve made a decision that my photos won’t be airbrushed. My body will never be altered for publication. I hope that by doing this others will do the same.