She was the kind of girl who made you believe that she must be happy.

As though it could be found hiding

In beautiful, flowing hair that captured admirers even in dark city corners;

And legs, long enough to take her from here to the moon

In just five short steps;

And a body filled with dimensions that made society smile,

As if they could prove that perfect does exist

With just a gesture toward her symmetrical numbers.

And you believe she must be happy.

For how could her clear skin and white teeth,

Like the elegant chain of pearls that should have adorned her collar bones,

Lie?

Like a white lily blooming from the earth after a gentle rain,

You saw her beauty and believed that in beauty there is happiness,

That she was good and pure in every mannerism,

The way all beautiful things must be…

And when you finally worked up the courage to ask,

After days and weeks and months of admiring her up close,

It is as if a new cloud has covered your sky.

One that will not bring the dew with which beauty intensifies,

But will rather bring the wind that will blow the lily petals away.

 

“When you look in the mirror, do you like what you see?”

And a great sadness will fill her eyes, as though the sun sparkling in her irises

Has been replaced by an ocean of shadows,

And all the dark corners of her mind are seen dancing where the light once shone.

She will shake her head as though it hurts,

And bend her head in unknown shame,

While you stammer with the reasoning behind her answer.

How could she not see?

And it will take you longer than you’ve known her to figure it out.

For days and weeks and months – and maybe even years –

You will try to find what could possibly be wrong with her

For she is a sight to see.

And you will buy new mirrors

You will try better lighting – and maybe even none at all.

And you can ask over and over again

“Do you like what you see?”

But the answer will not change.

She does not like what she sees.

 

And one day, the anger will set in.

And you will weep for her.

You will weep for the beautiful girl with flowing hair and sparkling eyes,

And the tears will remind you of all the little girls,

Like her,

Who grow up and have their eyes dunked in the black tar of expectations

That society chews with wide grins,

As though the innocent irises of little girls - dipped in lies- are a delicacy.

And with full stomachs they will put forth the generic sad eyes

That makes you think of women gossiping over tea

With forced sympathetic smiles about someone that they hate,

And the same society that drowned those young eyes and then swallowed them up

Will try to tell these now-blind girls that they possess beauty.

That they are worthy of something.

And this is another lie they shove into the empty sockets of little children;

That you are only worthy if you are beautiful.

 

And when you are done weeping –

When you could build the seventh sea with the tears you’ve cried for these poor girls,

When you could drown the world for all you’ve wept for the little boys who,

Though in different ways with different lies,

Learn the same message that we are only valuable if we have beauty –

When you have done all that, you will begin to wonder

How can you make them see?

And the truth is:

You can’t.

Because instead of asking

“Do you like what you see?”

You should’ve asked

“Can you like what you see?”

This is the most important question.

Do not praise someone with sonnets of their beauty,

When their black eyes look into the mirror and see creatures meant to be hidden away.

Do not shower them with poems and compare them to the sun,

When their mind screams the insults society drilled into their sockets with the rules self-value.

No, that is not the way to fix those broken little children.

Instead, ask them the question

“How can you like what you see?”

And help them build something –

In their insides or out –

That they can cherish like an artist at a museum admiring his own work,

Knowing that it is not the best,

And seeing all the little flaws that could be improved,

But liking what they see, regardless of what they believe.

Because art has never truly been made to fit into this mold of society,

It has always been a great act of defiance and awakening.

And if we want to be happy, we need to understand something vital:

We, as humans, are works of art.

So instead of seeing ourselves as a woman,

Or a man,

Or even a human,

We can see ourselves as individual creations of passion and inspiration,

And decorate and flourish our beings until the outcast corners of society rejoice

And we know that we are beautiful –

Not because we are beautiful,

But because we are works of art

And art is beautiful.

 

So that someday when your daughter stands in front of the mirror in a white dress with a freckled smile,

And you ask – because you must ask – “Do you like what you see?”

 

Her answer will be: Yes.