I Judge Other Women

by Allie Ailis

Have you ever seen a woman elegantly stroll through the world with a shine; a gold foil that covers everything they are and do in radiance? Or have you seen the infamous Cookie-Monster-pajama-pants woman and got the faint odor of cigarettes on the wind as she passed? I’ve seen both — and every woman in between — and always, without fail, I take my mental ruler and judge where I lie on the (conservative white supremacy) beauty standard scale.

Image credit: Monika Kozub on Unsplash

I don’t do it consciously. Not all the time, at least. True that the decades of beauty industry and diet culture propaganda have sculpted, pinched, and warped my brain to be overly critical, but that shouldn’t be an excuse for the corner-of-my-eye glances to make sure that I am the hottest thing in the room. Because sometimes it is a conscious competition.

I recently went to my boyfriend’s work holiday party. I didn’t know a single person and was anxious that I would be overlooked, talked over, and generally ignored. I asked my boy what the dress code was. He said semi-formal. “Ok, but what does that mean? Long dress? Short dress? Business formal?” He shrugged, as uninterested men do. I picked an older, long dress from the back of my closet I used to wear to my big university job. I paired it with a statement necklace, kept my hair down, and hesitantly followed my boy to the car. I was on high alert.

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I was the ugly duckling. It’s a narrative shared by many girls, current and former. The experience of the ugly duckling is fully feminine (a distinction I want to make instead of “female” as feminine boys have no doubt experienced bullying in a similar vein due to not fitting the mold). The ugly duckling is the last one picked in gym class. They eat in the lunchroom with one or two good friends. Their confidence disintegrates slowly in the previous row of school desks. They are often excluded, ridiculed, and called “weird.” I was bullied out of playing softball. I was laughed at for my skinny “office siren-esque” glasses.

But then I found YouTube. I found hair and makeup tutorials. I found problematic eating behaviors. I found fashion advice. I slowly morphed from an awkward girl to a desperate teenager. And my peers took notice. Suddenly, I was getting attention. Maybe not a full swan, but pretty privilege started shaking its rattle tail in the middle school grass. The turning point away from an ugly duckling creates a deep-seated hunger to never return to that way of being. The "frog pond effect" posits that individuals assess their abilities and attributes relative to their immediate social group. For former "ugly ducklings," this could mean continually comparing their appearance to peers, especially in environments that emphasize physical attractiveness (like good old American schools). Keeping my pretty privilege was — and to an extent still is — one of my top priorities and anxieties.

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When we arrived at the holiday party, I was immediately overwhelmed. Not only were there easily a hundred people, but all of them were packed like sardines in a small hotel lobby. The first thing I noticed, aside from the sheer number of strangers, was that I was underdressed. I did not fit in. The other women wore much nicer dresses and had their hair blown out and curled. How could I compete? Why was I competing at all?

This situation was two-pronged for me:

1) I was the representative of whom my boyfriend is outside of work. I would be his accessory to show his coworkers that he was a success. He did it. He had a hot girlfriend. This thinking is deeply rooted in patriarchy and anxiety. But is it untrue? Do women not still act as an accompaniment? The Tradwife movement would convince me that, yes, it still matters deeply to men how their women look and behave.

2) My ugly duckling anxiety was through the roof. “Imposter” my brain droned like a fire alarm. I could not stop comparing myself to every and any woman I saw. She was skinnier. Her teeth are whiter. Hair shinier. And the opposite, too. I was skinnier than her! I was better smelling! Who could ever like her? Once the venom of automatic thinking kicks in — puppeteer by fatphobia, misogyny, and transphobia — I find myself constantly unable to redirect my thoughts.

So, what did I do? I had a panic attack and drove myself home (in that order, not together!). I was in the hotel for no more than thirty minutes before my years of positive self-talk and therapy crumbled around me. I wanted to scream apologies. Not at or for myself, no. I wanted to apologize to the women I tore down in my head. Women, I am sorry I judge. I’m sorry I talk the talk, but sometimes, cannot walk the feminist walk I preach. Sure, it is all in my head for now. But I must unpack the deeply ingrained ideas about myself, about womanhood and beauty, and about the patriarchal structures that be. I urge you to do the same.

Because, right now, I judge other women.

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Allie Ailis

Allie Ailis (she/they) is an aspiring creative with work featured in Seven Mysteries Magazine, Heroica and Culture Vulture. She holds a Master's in Child and Adolescent Psychology and is active in the Philadelphia craft club community. When not creating, she can be found hiking the local trails with her dog, Luna.