Why do we want to be pretty? More specifically--why do I want to be pretty?

It's a question I've asked myself many times, especially as I've wandered further along my path of transition.

Partially, I suppose, it is a reaction to societal demands. Even in my previous guise as a male, I was aware of my appearance. In my younger years, I pushed the limits and in my everyday life, I wore clothing more appropriate for the stage of a rock concert than a trip to the mall. I drew a lot of stares, got a LOT of comments. The most welcome of those came from cis women who often judged me "pretty."

Little did they or anyone else know how much I relished hearing that word. It made me feel as if I was one of them.

Age takes its toll, though, and maintaining the easy luster of youthful beauty becomes a chore. By middle age, most cis men often give up the battle and succumb to the weight gain, the wrinkling, the receding hairlines. Cis women generally fight on and the entire cosmetic and fashion industries are built upon their chase after immortal beauty. The societal perceptions of womanly perfection.

Yet, I always envied them. I wanted to be them. I was them, although nobody saw it outwardly.

One of the great joys that has come with coming out as transgender is that I can pursue prettiness openly. A large part of the euphoria I feel from being trans is that I now embrace the pent-up desires I have to buy fashionable clothing and makeup. I literally feel the endorphins coursing through me as I put on my face and slip into a tight, sexy outfit. Get over it, world! I am woman, hear me roar!

As with everything, though, there is another side to this pursuit of prettiness. The side that reminds me that prettiness is a social construct. A construct of a society that routinely rejects my very existence. So, why do I bend to their expectations of beauty?

I suppose it comes down to pretty privilege.

"Pretty privilege is the concept that pretty people benefit in life from being perceived as beautiful. Studies have shown that pretty people will more than likely receive higher earnings or better grades. But what is beautiful? Like the saying beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, what we find attractive is often thought to be subjective. However, society inherently bases value on certain attributes over others. Those attributes are often based on whiteness, able bodiedness, leanness, straightness, and cisness, to mention just a few. Pretty privilege is much like how being white or being male provides people with unearned advantages in society."

"Pretty privilege benefits and hurts all types of people, both cis and trans, across all races and sexualities."

These are the thoughts of Harley Preston, a transgender model, writer, and activist writing for COVETEUR. To the point--by any estimation, Preston is pretty. Very pretty. And in some ways, that bothers her.

Harley Preston

"When speaking to pretty privilege in the context of cisness, it could be argued that the barrier for entry to such a privilege is more difficult for a transgender person because that hurdle is our very sex assigned at birth, my “maleness.” It’s the belief that in order to achieve such a standing in society it would require a distancing from, squandering of, and rejection of our transness as a whole. This reinforces the false reality that in society, a transition is deemed “successful” only when one is conventionally beautiful by cisgender standards. When in actuality we all know the real value a transition can bring to one’s life is more than mere aesthetics or looks, but rather living more fully and freely."

"Having defined it, it has become shockingly easy to see how I benefit from such a privilege. In hindsight, pretty privilege in the context of cisness wasn’t something I was always presented with and might be why it has felt so obvious. I haven’t always existed in the world looking like this."

"I started my transition 21 months ago, and only two years ago started hormone replacement therapy, followed by a recent facial feminization surgery. As my body and features began to change and become more cis-passing, I had started to witness peoples’ treatment of me change—it was almost as if one day people saw me differently, they started smiling at me as they walked by, doors were held open, and drinks were being bought for me from those who simply wanted my attention."

"The exact moment where it changed is hard to pinpoint, but looking at my transition in its totality, it’s jarring and impossible for me to not see the difference. It is now my responsibility to swallow my guilt and acknowledge that such experiences are not afforded to everyone and I have benefitted from the unearned privilege of assimilating into a cisgender society because of my pretty privilege."

Preston's experience rings true. A good transgender friend of mine--an unequivocally beautiful woman--began transitioning in her mid-twenties and started on HRT soon after. And she has related almost exactly the same reactions from others as Preston. The way she put it to me: Guys started "cornering" her in bars in the months after her HRT effects began manifesting. While shy, introverted, and dateless in her male days, she became hotly pursued and has more male suitors than she can handle.

"I think about the comment you don’t even look trans. More often than not, it is said by a cisgender person with the intention of it being a compliment. What this implies is that the existence of my transness is better not seen and that I am considered attractive because of its absence. It reinforces that the existence of pretty privilege is due to my proximity to cisness..."

"...while it has become easier for me to look at the ways in which I experience pretty privilege, celebrating the absence of my transness will never sit well with me..."

"Where it becomes more insidious is when such standards of beauty are perpetuated by a fellow trans woman. When we, as trans women, celebrate another trans woman for appearing to be cis we are basing our value on our cisness or “passability” and this further perpetuates the belief that our transness is something to be ashamed of or hidden. When this happens, we fall victim to continuing the cycle of pretty privilege and its exclusion of transness. Instead of celebrating the ways in which another trans woman appears cis, we should be celebrating the very fact that she is transgender."

"I fall victim to the comparison and it can feel like a never ending cycle. I say, let's all get off of the hamster wheel. We have to acknowledge that we live in a culture that equates a woman’s worth to her attractiveness. We have an opportunity to break that cycle for each other and while the world may judge us based on our cisness, we do not need to. Easy for a white cis-passing trans girl to say, I know."

Preston has the self-awareness to realize what her readers are thinking. Even as she acknowledges how her personal beauty allows her all the privileges of "passing" for a cis woman, she rails against the existence of that privilege. Like she said: Easy for her to say, because even as she wrote those words, she knows she will still garner the benefits of "pretty privilege" when she goes out into the public. An option us less-pretty people don't have.

This is a thought-provoking article and I recommend reading it fully. I believe Preston's heart is in the right place, but her words ring a bit disingenuous. Unless she decides to give up the pursuit of prettiness, of trying to conform to society's definition of it, she is implicitly reinforcing society's concept. You can't have it both ways.

Personally, I don't have the same compunctions as Preston. I am not that pretty and my efforts to look pretty are based upon MY perceptions, not those of the society as a whole.

I mean--how often do you see other mature women in goth clothes and makeup shopping at Walmart?

--- Anni ⚧