7 of 30/ makeup/ 35

Makeup mostly seemed like

A distant thing to me, a 

wild bear that needed to be

shunned, a growling wolf just

waiting to tear me apart until

all that was left of me was my

body, until frivolity was the 

only word that described me-

I just didn’t want to be a cliché,

so I preached power in 

masculinity, remained enshrined

in the tomb of patriarchy, 

praying to the gods of social

norms, and my feminism was

a safe yet fragile concept, one

that ignored the intersectionality

of problems, one that ignored

the complexity of the seemingly

frivolous until one day I found 

myself with kajal in my hand, 

fingers trembling as I applied 

it myself, heart thumping as I 

tackled my own sexist standpoint

and reclaimed the joy that 

many people feel, reclaimed

the power of a brush for the

art that is my face- I 

applied the kajal, and the first

thing i realised was how

good I could feel, free from

the shackles of learned 

negativity, free from the shackles

of my own toxicity.

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