There’s just something about social media that darkens my soul. Before I wrote anything about it I wanted to be sure that it was my own insecurities and not just a general dislike and I’ve realised it indeed is. Most of the insecurities I possess now were unfortunately absent before I was a heavy user of social media. I never used to be interested in taking albums of pictures at events, sucking in my voluptuous body to “smoothen out the quality”, talk of even wearing outrageously pinchy wigs to cover the already long locks of hair God blessed me with. I never felt this pressure. Before I turned 16 even, yes I appreciated makeup and was fascinated by its able powers but I didn’t enjoy that “luxury” as my mother would call it. I however grew to feel like that just wasn’t and isn’t me. So Painting my own face I didn’t appreciate, tight clothing to hug my body to display me in ways I didn’t prefer I didn’t appreciate and even a phenomena-wigs-that has saved and helped so many women I didn’t appreciate either. However my continuous encounter with instagram and the likes helped me put up a fake appreciation for such things. All of a sudden I begun to feel like I wasn’t a real woman if I didn’t look perfect in these ways because that was and is social media’s portrayal of the perfect woman these days with a small waist small arms and fat in all the right places which I’m beginning to realise at the age of 18 is not so realistic universally. After going to church this morning and watching the women pour out chained onto their husbands and how their tummies hang low but still with a certain vibe of confidence, I finally came to this realisation. I realised how feeble and gullible my mind has been all these years of trying to force the image of a perfect woman. It is not just one format. There are many. There are many that should be appreciated and rejoiced and not the common figure that is consistently promoted by all these brands and social media that we consistently refuse to recuse ourselves from time to time. Social media enlargened the insecurities I’ve had for myself and I am trying very hard to close that gap. I am trying to wear my own hair out more regardless of its toughness around the edges and it not so being long like my Guyanese sister. I am trying to wear what I please regardless of what others will think about my “extra extra fufu bottom” -as the credit seller would call it- and I am trying hard not to paint my face to every event pretending to not have naturally golden skin the lord blessed my mother then me with. I am trying not to be influenced by that influencer that insists on buying clothes and products from brands that economise on animal cruelty and sweatshops. With all that trial to be myself free from the bloody strictness of social media and the people around me prioritising it and trying to have the best feed I have and am encountering so much hardships. But if women like Chantelle Winnie, Viviane Jefferson a.k.a. Lizzo and even Rihanna can break that stereotype of the perfect woman and retain confidence so shall I eventually, so shall I.
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