Writing again and makeup
For several months, I was barely working on my academic articles, as I was living with hyperemesis gravidarum. These days, this pregnancy complication feels more like what I imagine normal morning sickness to be. I often feel nauseous, tired (even exhausted) and dizzy and keep my medication nearby. Some days are worse than others, but I'm able to sketch academic articles yet again. The autoethnographic article I'm working on is about empowering factors, i.e., what empowers me in my practice. I've been dreaming about writing this one for a long time, mainly because what empowers me on my journey can empower fellow humans too on their own sustainability paths. Some fellow humans in academia hold a view that autoethnography is all about one person, the author's self, hence not useful. And while I, as anyone else, am a unique human being, the systems I live within are the same systems others live within too. Human experiences are so diverse, but often so similar too.
Why don't I stop writing until I feel normal again? My articles are my creative outlet. Academic work is creative work. And being in the moments, even months, of suffering, is a precious time of honouring pain that everyone feels and imperfections of a sustainable lifestyle. Yet, I feel that this year I will publish less. And I feel good about it. Just like in some years I live with more and in other years with less, some years I create more, and in other years less. This year I also intend to create differently, with a focus on sharing more with fellow humans outside academia.
As I was writing the article, I was thinking about diverse non-human beings. I use this word (non-humans) in a very broad sense. It encompasses everyone: animals, plants, the sea, the stars, rocks, and so on. Non-humans' presence in my life empowers my practice of living with less in many ways. In my autoethnography, on multiple occasions I mentioned the cat I lived with who inspired me to try and wear the same thing every day. When I experienced harassment from a manager and very little support from the university, I often spent time with the sea, the sun and the stars to observe their vastness. The manager's ambitions paled in comparison. Before my now-husband and I became a couple, we'd been through a very difficult time. For a long time, he was trying to choose between us and the life he had. Instead of suffering, I chose to spend as much time as possible with non-human beings. My love towards the universe, towards the sea, the stars and trees felt so overwhelming in comparison to my feelings towards him.
Recently, I was looking at the snow, a magpie who visited my balcony, the sky and the tulips that my partner gave me as a gift. I was thinking, these flowers are so beautiful as they are, they would not look better if they were covered in paint. This magpie would not be prettier with makeup and jewellery. It made me reflect on my relationship with makeup once again. At times, I think a lot about it, at other times I even forget about its existence.
I've not worn makeup since my early 20s (I'm 35). Before I continue, I want to say that my reflections are not meant to be judgemental towards those fellow humans who choose to wear makeup. My grandmother who inspired me in many ways has worn makeup since her youth, and it's not my intention to encourage her to discontinue this practice. She always wore the same thing: a lipstick in a shade of deep, cool red-purple (her nail polish always matched). And not much (if anything) else, though she did have a collection of makeup. She styled her eyebrows with some petroleum jelly. It was her signature look. Something that I found particularly inspiring in the way she related with makeup is that she often wore it at home, for herself.
Over the years, many fellow humans mentioned to me that they would like to stop wearing makeup. I feel that these reflections are for them.
In my experience, the path of living more sustainably is, in many ways, about shedding. Shedding internalised societal norms and expectations, others' perspectives that are disempowering and unhelpful (once a fellow PhD student told me that I was not doing enough to attract men, referring to my appearance/style), a view that I am not enough. Shedding the so-called beauty industry's messages of my deficiency (often presented as self-care, expressing and treating myself and so on!).
Some practices I've been working, and walking, towards for a long time, even years in some cases (such as living in a tiny apartment). Other practices I implemented rather quickly. One day I decided to stop wearing makeup. I must say that before that, I'd never seen makeup as a very important part of my life or an important means of self-expression. It was just something I did, because my mother did it, others did it, and I thought I had to. And then I realised that I was enough. I am like this magpie, like this tulip and the snow. I am like a tree or a stone. When I say this to my fellow humans, they often say to me that people have worn makeup forever. There are many things that humans have done for a long time. It does not mean we cannot question or reflect on them.
These days, our relationship with ourselves is influenced, if not guided, by enormous industries that do not have my self-love and self-care in mind. They rely on me (and fellow others) feeling deficient. Faulty, ugly, old, imperfect. Me not wearing makeup does not hurt anyone. It liberates. It adds to a diversity of modes of relating with objects. My chosen way of relating with makeup is not to invite it into my life. It is to be like non-humans. I don't want to conceal anything, highlight anything, or enhance anything. I want my child to kiss my face spontaneously. I want to walk in the rain without an umbrella, jump into the sea whenever I feel like. I want to cry whenever, without worrying about my mascara or eyeshadows. I want to splash some water on my face and go to bed. I don't want to worry about releasing even more human-made substances into Water that I love.
When I was at school and then at university, many fellow students wore makeup. Some would get up early in the morning to apply makeup. Some said they skipped meals to afford makeup and perfumes. Yet, there were always students who wore no makeup. There were other persons, such as my stepfather's sister and mother, who wore none, too. I think it's so important to recognise this existing diversity and seek inspiration and empowerment in the spaces that align with one's path.
I've always lived with an autoimmune skin condition. My relationship with my skin improved immensely when I stopped wearing makeup. My skin became much healthier.
I don't make any exceptions in my practice. I do not wear makeup when I lecture. I don't wear it for special occasions. Not even for my own wedding. I don't own any and don't plan to ever buy any ever again.