A scribble a day

"Write what should not be forgotten."

[a-scribble-a-day]

Black Friday is ruining us.

In a world that is designed to make you feel like you don’t have and aren’t enough, being content has become somewhat of a rebellious act. 

Imagine if we realised what a privilege it is to even be here. I’m the first person to admit I’m not proud of this country and society and of what we’ve done, but there is no arguing that we have way more options here than the rest of the world. If we began to really be thankful for the opportunities and the rights we have here, perhaps we would have a deeper understanding of happiness and question the greed, lust and excessiveness all around us.

Be a rebel and love your life as it is.

You’ll be a marketing nightmare.

[a-scribble-a-day]

Is make up oppressive?

I imagine there may be a lot of women frustratingly screaming at their screens right now, saying ‘I wear make up for ME’ and ‘it makes ME feel great and confident and it’s not for anyone else’ or that ‘it’s art; a form of expression’. Because they are reasons I’ve used too. And I’ve genuinely believed them and maybe still do 5% of the time. But if you were 100% honest and really, truthfully asked yourself why you spend a huge amount of time and money and effort on make up, what would your main reason be? 

I have prided myself on the fact that I don’t care what people think so you can imagine the struggle from my realisation that my truthful answer to that question was, ultimately, I care how my appearance comes across. Maybe not to the extent of some people and maybe not down to my very soul, but I do care. I enjoy the feeling of being called beautiful. Whether it’s by a random guy in a coffee shop or an old lady on the tram or my best mate before a night out. I like being complimented, we all do. I think it’s something we crave as humans. That acceptance and feeling of accomplishment, I suppose. If I’m honest, I’d rather be complimented on my wit or my creativity or my strength of character. But those things shine through a lot less to strangers whereas my physical features are right there. So if there’s a way of exaggerating those features to make me ‘prettier’ and receive more endorphins from compliments, my inner acceptance gremlin makes me want to do that.

It has become so culturally accepted that women wear make up to hide our blemishes and make our faces appear different shapes or enlarge our lips or generally just look flawless, that we don’t really question why we do it. We cover the things that make us, us. 

If you have a child, remember when they were born and how beautiful their little face was. Could it have been made prettier with a smudge of lipstick? Maybe a quick contouring technique to define the jawline or maybe they would have benefitted from a smokey eye to really make those gorgeous big eyes pop? No? That’s because it’s fucking ridiculous. 

We were all born beautiful. 

We are all born beautiful. 

We are ALL born BEAUTIFUL. 

But society has spent years constantly telling one gender that they look bad without make up.

I know that men have a lot of struggles to deal with in terms of expectations of appearance and ‘masculinity’. There is no doubt men have been victims of the beauty industry too. But in the grand scheme of everything, it’s a fraction of what women are exposed to. The society we have found ourselves in expects certain standards from women to look and act a certain way. From little girls, we are subconsciously prodded. All the time. It’s relentless. From toy high heels and make up sets for 3 year olds to massive fuck off billboards with the words ‘Buy yourself beautiful’ looming over as you drive down the M60. Comments that completely disregard the years of work put into any kind of achievement because as long as you’ve got a ‘pretty face’ you’ll be fine. Disney, TV shows, how the news is reported. Magazines dripping in self loathing, adverts on every wall, shop and radio station telling us we are nowhere near good enough but these are the products that will make you feel better. Selling us mascara that creates ‘false lash effect’ and lipstick to make your lips ‘kissable’ and foundation that looks like cement so you can literally paint all your ‘flaws’ away. It’s all about how we look and never about who we are.

They are selling us self consciousness. I’m not sure where it stemmed from but it’s there. And it’s a problem. As we buy these products to boost our confidence, we are putting money and power back into the hands of the very thing that made us feel like crap in the first place. A billion dollar industry that would fall apart if we all believed we were already good enough. 

Is make up, as a whole, bad? In my opinion, no. 

Is make up on a daily basis for regular women bad? Possibly. 

By itself it can be used in unbelievable ways and should definitely be used as a form of expression and style. But in order to get to that freedom of expression without it being assumed of us, we need to completely destroy this idea of beauty that we have been fed for so long. And the role that make up plays so closely alongside it. Only then can it be a true choice.

At the moment, I only have questions and no answers. But I think that if we all start asking ‘why?’ to ourselves and each other more, we might begin to find some real solutions.

And in the meantime, I will be trying to spend my time on learning how to love myself properly.

I’ve found it to be much cheaper.

[a-scribble-a-day]

20.13pm

There are a lot of things happening in the world right now that I’m not proud of. Terrible men have been voted into power and whole groups of human beings are being squashed under the greed, racism and sexism of other human beings, as if we’re not all the same. There is less care, less love, less integrity around. Like we're going backwards. I know the world has never been perfect but there was a time not so long ago when the general sense was at least of hope and trying to fight for the good guys; it’s a harrowing thought that that may not be the case by the time you are aware of all of this. We all care a little bit too much about status and how we are ‘supposed’ to be. It scares me that the majority of people and things around you may actually all be horribly wrong and that they are all becoming alarmingly acceptable.

I want you to question everything.

Go out and find things out for yourself. Stand up for yourself and use your voice to stand up for people whose voice isn’t listened to. Fight. I want you to have so much fire in your soul that you put volcanoes and stars to shame. 

The best advice I could give you is to ignore everything the world tells you. It worries too much about whether you have a good enough education, how skinny you are and when you should be married by. Trust your gut instead. Care less about grades and more about sitting with the lonely kid in the class, spend time with people whose first language is different to yours, do things that scare the crap out of you. Be bothered. Respect your surroundings, never turn up empty handed, take your shoes off at the door, give up your seat, jump in puddles, laugh at yourself. 

But most of all, be authentic. Because the world is severely lacking in realness.

Be honest even when you're scared of the consequences.

Love people, even when they don't deserve it. 

And be good, even when no one is watching.

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22.13pm

People say India is an assault on the senses, but I think I had a different experience. From the moment I stepped into the hairdryer heat and the multicoloured madness, I fell in love. My eyes like sponges, trying to soak in as much of the crowded chaos as possible...chai pans smashing next to monkeys playing and street dogs fighting and horns and beeps every single second. Im in a death trap tuk tuk as we swerve around an enormous bull who's just chilling amongst rubble in the middle of the road and curve past oncoming motorbikes with a full family on the back of each. It's like Tetris on speed. A myriad of concoctions waft past... Spices, petrol, burning, urine, cinnamon, cows, decay, coconut, charcoal and mangoes all prickling and confusing my nostrils at every turn. Sweat trickles and my hands are sticky, shrills go straight through me, the traffic screams. No one can tell what I'm saying and in all honesty I have no idea where I'm going or what's going on. It's a bit bonkers to say the least. But then I let go of possibly everything and anything I've ever known... and kind of go with it. And I find myself walking bare foot across the smooth cold tiles of a strangers home, looking out on the bright sapphire roof tops of a beautiful city. With fresh henna that his wife just painted all over me and promises of his Mum's thali (the best in all of Jodhpur). I Discovered what seemed like forgotten beaches; the ebb and flow of wistful waves against secret sands. Stumble into garden restaurants surrounded by tranquility, and fall into spice paradises packed with drawers full of wonders, leaving with a full belly and a humble heart. It's a place where comfort and calm are a distant echo, but somehow peace permeates your every pore. A mosaic of stories, unexpected kindness and where rules really are only there as 'guidance'. Unlike our western rights and entitlement, these are people who truly see life as a privilege. A place that invites you for chai at every opportunity and where children smile up at you with their sparkly emerald eyes and empty pockets, but who possess more riches than words could ever describe. After a 3 week introduction to this insane country, I feel like 'assault on the senses' is too aggressive a phrase. There is far too much enchantment for such harshness. It may be dirty and dusty and noisy and brash. But it's alive. It's the most alive place ive ever seen. So For me, i think it was more of an awakening. An awakening of the senses and of the things i never thought could be. A land of colour. In every sense of the word.