beauty ≠ currency
I’m so tired of the people I’m meeting lately. Working downtown has opened my eyes to some of the “girls girls” that roam these scenes. It snowballed the idea that women in this city are treating their beauty like currency. Beauty doesn’t equal your currency, does it? Your level of youth does not make you worth more in someone else's eyes, right?
In high school, I wanted to be the perfect Latina girl, with True Religion bootcut jeans, 2016 baddie makeup, and long straight hair. That was never me. My hair was short & curly, I wasn't allowed to wear makeup, and all my clothes were thrifted. Still, I pined for that look, holding the girls who embodied it to a higher standard, measuring their worth by their beauty. Their looks attracted attention from the boys I desired, won favor with teachers, and helped them gain friends & invitations to dances. I wanted that, needed it even, so I snuck mascara and dated too many boys—ugly, funny, attractive, or rude—none of them ever lasted.
One boy in particular everyone crushed on, and he wanted me. I felt like I finally had some social standing being next to him. I may not be the prettiest, but I had the boy everyone wants, and that meant I’m worth more. After a week, I realized just how narcissistic he was (as many teenage boys are) and decided this wasn't working anymore for me. He threatened to beat me if I left him. I was 14. It was a wake-up call. I lacked self-respect because I didn't know my worth, and I was measuring it by my beauty.
Our outward appearance as women has been scrutinized for generations, but for Gen Z women, it's embedded in our very existence. We've grown up in the age of social media, watching women's bodies become trends that go in and out of style. It’s dystopian but very real. And now, we exist in a time where altering the body we were born with is as accessible as booking an appointment—whether it's a simple tweak or a life-threatening procedure.
As I get older, I find myself surrounded by women from all walks of life, each trying to carve out their own path in Austin. We’re all striving for something—financial stability, new experiences, deeper conversations. Some women dream bigger, push harder, and chase a life beyond the ordinary. That’s inspiring. But it makes me wonder: How do we get there?
Maybe, for some, beauty really is currency. Maybe pretty privilege is a real-world cheat code, opening doors that remain locked for those who don’t fit the Western ideal. If you weren’t born into the mold, are you just left behind? Is it unfair, or is it just the way things are?
One thing feels certain: thinness will never go out of style. And whether we like it or not, we have to live with that.
But I don’t want to live for it anymore.
I don’t want to keep living under the weight of the male gaze, shaping myself to be something I don’t even recognize just so I can be seen. I want to appeal to my own gaze, to look in the mirror and see someone I love—not someone I’m trying to sell to the world. I want to exist outside of desirability politics, outside of the pressure to be beautiful as a means of survival.
Because I’m realizing now: if beauty is currency, then opting out is the most radical thing I can do.
zoe
