PRETTY UGLY?
BY DAVID SOLOMON (Written around Autumn 1997)
Wanna shock? Don’t dye your hair pink or wear a micro mini. Just be ugly. You’ll get more catcalls than any page-three ‘Babe’ or page-seven ‘Hunk’. However, all wolf-whistles and screams of ‘sexy!’ will henceforth be sarcastic. “She” (don’t tell me, it’s the one in the tracksuit bottoms) “wants to go out with you” will be a common advance used not only by gangs of teenage girls. Pure sarcasm, the very sort of which Oscar Wilde quite accurately concluded to be the lowest form of wit, can still nevertheless hurt. Take the unforgettable one-liner; ‘If looks could kill..?!’ Well, if looks could kill I would be a mass-murderer by now. Why? I’m ugly.
How do I know? Simple: ‘they’ tell me so. Example: two young women glance at you; one looks back at her friend and making a great show of being affronted, indignantly exclaims “No thanks!” My generation – impolite? But excuse me, whose offering? Even so…obviously I am a passion killer after all. All together now…”ugly man, walking down the street…”
What am I like! Girls just wanna have fun. Where’s my sense of humour? Well, as a matter of fact, a woman turned to her man after catching sight of me and still laughing, commented; “he’s funny, isn’t he?” So there. Eat yer heart out, Jo Brand!
And hello boys! Wannabe hip young chaps for instance, mock ‘ugly blokes’ in order to impress upon female companions how, by glaring contrast, sexy, witty and sophisticated they really are. God’s gift? Well, size matters. Ego size, that is. When not in female company, such talent boorishly roam the honky tonks and bars feeling free to drop any pretence at sophistication along with their devastatingly tight trousers. Full monty or acute embarrassment? Away the sads!
Male only gangs often tend to ridicule anyone different, whilst individual males not infrequently take it upon themselves to curse non-conformist ‘saddoes’ with all the necessary contempt that they so assuredly insist we deserve. Respect – not due. There are always the lone men who’ll stare holes into me. For several minutes, usually on a bus or a train, (‘Brief Encounter’, anyone?) he just simply can’t take his eyes off me and somehow, by his hostile expression I just know that it’s not love at first sight. Bless ‘em, men just can’t help acting on impulse. Don’t take my word for it. Go see the crime statistics.
Plain to see, the downside of Cool Britannia is Cruel Britannia. I ought to be used to it by now. Nevertheless, as soon as I get home I go straight to the mirror. Mirror, mirror on the wall whose the ugliest of them all? So what was wrong with my appearance this time? (Kleenex for men.)
Sad? Just because I look different doesn’t mean that I’m from the planet Vulcan, does it? Contrary to the male caricatures common to British adverts, which nostalgically resemble Tonka Toys in that no matter how badly you treat them they never, ever break, what I’m really trying to say here, in my clumsy, tongue-tied, awkward, grovelling, oppressed transgendered serf type of way is that…amazingly I do actually have emotions. Sorry for the inconvenience now.
Cheer up luv, don’t let them wreck your life etc. However that, like so many things in life, is easier said than done.
Conversely, some say that such oppression makes for refreshing justice indeed as women had to suffer centuries of body fascism before second-wave feminism came along and challenged male sexist harassing pigs from the late 1960s onwards. Remember when dinosaurs ruled the earth? Well, somebody has to pay the after-dinner bill, or at least do the washing up. Now that the tables are supposedly turned, men are being evaluated by their looks. Behold the face of Girl Power! Both of them. After all, what is feminism for but to punish those who are not man enough?
Shut up and take it like a man? Whichever man he is, and how he should take it nevertheless puzzles me. Maybe I should have taken it like a post-man? Then, I would be sure to deliver. For modern man has, artlessly, to deliver, to perform, to be ‘up for it’, has to ‘move it, shake it, prove, it use it, show us how good you are’. Otherwise, any neo-Spice Girls out there will never ‘wannabe his lover’ and thus, in all probability, decline to serenade him. I can’t deny ugliness has its advantages. In this case, no need to say ‘sorry I’ve got a headache’. Spice up? My life.
Should I perhaps, have worked myself into a lager-induced sulk instead of writing this article? Man O man. “Take any two bottles…” as a once familiar ad aimed at men seductively recommended, “into the shower” (whey hey!), only to perversely neglect to add, so long as they both contain alcohol. Never mind one’s own health, at least I would be behaving in a gender appropriate way and therefore, applauded by society for being normal. How very ordinary.
Not ‘arf! It’s totally obvious that role reversal is only allowed to go so far. Ken and Barbie are alive and well and living in 21st Century, Drool Britannia. Meanwhile, women are still evaluated by their looks just as much as ever. It’s just that these days sexism is carried out in a much more insidious way. Much of ‘Girl Power’ is a male fantasy of what feminism is all about. Women who promote it are often chosen by a male-dominated management on the basis of how they conform to an all too-predictably patriarchal ideal of feminine beauty. Life, on the other hand, is still no fairy tale if you’re an ugly sister. Tell me about it.
Moreover, fully mindful of the personal being political, just what is it exactly that I find myself being punished for? Is it being male (allegedly), or being ugly? ‘Wrong’ body? If only I had been born good-looking and sexist instead of ugly and anti-sexist I would have escaped such punishment. Pretty ironic?
Yet phwoar…look at the irony on them! Just why is it that those who dish out the looksist abuse always assume that their ugly victims would give anything in the world to go out with them? Let’s, once and for all, face up to the ugly truth. Whether female or male, pretty or ugly, young or old, looksist harassing creeps are a real turn off. You know who you are.
Copyright May 2006 David Solomon
This work is registered with Copyright Witness
BY DAVID SOLOMON (Written around Autumn 1997)
Wanna shock? Don’t dye your hair pink or wear a micro mini. Just be ugly. You’ll get more catcalls than any page-three ‘Babe’ or page-seven ‘Hunk’. However, all wolf-whistles and screams of ‘sexy!’ will henceforth be sarcastic. “She” (don’t tell me, it’s the one in the tracksuit bottoms) “wants to go out with you” will be a common advance used not only by gangs of teenage girls. Pure sarcasm, the very sort of which Oscar Wilde quite accurately concluded to be the lowest form of wit, can still nevertheless hurt. Take the unforgettable one-liner; ‘If looks could kill..?!’ Well, if looks could kill I would be a mass-murderer by now. Why? I’m ugly.
How do I know? Simple: ‘they’ tell me so. Example: two young women glance at you; one looks back at her friend and making a great show of being affronted, indignantly exclaims “No thanks!” My generation – impolite? But excuse me, whose offering? Even so…obviously I am a passion killer after all. All together now…”ugly man, walking down the street…”
What am I like! Girls just wanna have fun. Where’s my sense of humour? Well, as a matter of fact, a woman turned to her man after catching sight of me and still laughing, commented; “he’s funny, isn’t he?” So there. Eat yer heart out, Jo Brand!
And hello boys! Wannabe hip young chaps for instance, mock ‘ugly blokes’ in order to impress upon female companions how, by glaring contrast, sexy, witty and sophisticated they really are. God’s gift? Well, size matters. Ego size, that is. When not in female company, such talent boorishly roam the honky tonks and bars feeling free to drop any pretence at sophistication along with their devastatingly tight trousers. Full monty or acute embarrassment? Away the sads!
Male only gangs often tend to ridicule anyone different, whilst individual males not infrequently take it upon themselves to curse non-conformist ‘saddoes’ with all the necessary contempt that they so assuredly insist we deserve. Respect – not due. There are always the lone men who’ll stare holes into me. For several minutes, usually on a bus or a train, (‘Brief Encounter’, anyone?) he just simply can’t take his eyes off me and somehow, by his hostile expression I just know that it’s not love at first sight. Bless ‘em, men just can’t help acting on impulse. Don’t take my word for it. Go see the crime statistics.
Plain to see, the downside of Cool Britannia is Cruel Britannia. I ought to be used to it by now. Nevertheless, as soon as I get home I go straight to the mirror. Mirror, mirror on the wall whose the ugliest of them all? So what was wrong with my appearance this time? (Kleenex for men.)
Sad? Just because I look different doesn’t mean that I’m from the planet Vulcan, does it? Contrary to the male caricatures common to British adverts, which nostalgically resemble Tonka Toys in that no matter how badly you treat them they never, ever break, what I’m really trying to say here, in my clumsy, tongue-tied, awkward, grovelling, oppressed transgendered serf type of way is that…amazingly I do actually have emotions. Sorry for the inconvenience now.
Cheer up luv, don’t let them wreck your life etc. However that, like so many things in life, is easier said than done.
Conversely, some say that such oppression makes for refreshing justice indeed as women had to suffer centuries of body fascism before second-wave feminism came along and challenged male sexist harassing pigs from the late 1960s onwards. Remember when dinosaurs ruled the earth? Well, somebody has to pay the after-dinner bill, or at least do the washing up. Now that the tables are supposedly turned, men are being evaluated by their looks. Behold the face of Girl Power! Both of them. After all, what is feminism for but to punish those who are not man enough?
Shut up and take it like a man? Whichever man he is, and how he should take it nevertheless puzzles me. Maybe I should have taken it like a post-man? Then, I would be sure to deliver. For modern man has, artlessly, to deliver, to perform, to be ‘up for it’, has to ‘move it, shake it, prove, it use it, show us how good you are’. Otherwise, any neo-Spice Girls out there will never ‘wannabe his lover’ and thus, in all probability, decline to serenade him. I can’t deny ugliness has its advantages. In this case, no need to say ‘sorry I’ve got a headache’. Spice up? My life.
Should I perhaps, have worked myself into a lager-induced sulk instead of writing this article? Man O man. “Take any two bottles…” as a once familiar ad aimed at men seductively recommended, “into the shower” (whey hey!), only to perversely neglect to add, so long as they both contain alcohol. Never mind one’s own health, at least I would be behaving in a gender appropriate way and therefore, applauded by society for being normal. How very ordinary.
Not ‘arf! It’s totally obvious that role reversal is only allowed to go so far. Ken and Barbie are alive and well and living in 21st Century, Drool Britannia. Meanwhile, women are still evaluated by their looks just as much as ever. It’s just that these days sexism is carried out in a much more insidious way. Much of ‘Girl Power’ is a male fantasy of what feminism is all about. Women who promote it are often chosen by a male-dominated management on the basis of how they conform to an all too-predictably patriarchal ideal of feminine beauty. Life, on the other hand, is still no fairy tale if you’re an ugly sister. Tell me about it.
Moreover, fully mindful of the personal being political, just what is it exactly that I find myself being punished for? Is it being male (allegedly), or being ugly? ‘Wrong’ body? If only I had been born good-looking and sexist instead of ugly and anti-sexist I would have escaped such punishment. Pretty ironic?
Yet phwoar…look at the irony on them! Just why is it that those who dish out the looksist abuse always assume that their ugly victims would give anything in the world to go out with them? Let’s, once and for all, face up to the ugly truth. Whether female or male, pretty or ugly, young or old, looksist harassing creeps are a real turn off. You know who you are.
Copyright May 2006 David Solomon
This work is registered with Copyright Witness