My lifelong journey with makeup
Most little kids grow up watching someone in their lives carefully transform their faces with signature makeup products. For me, it was my mother, effortlessly sweeping on her Mommy Makeup multifunctional cream eyeshadow/highlighter, blending concealer to perfection, flicking on mascara, and dabbing on blush before heading off to work. I call this ritual “painting your face” because, despite the negative connotation that phrase has acquired, makeup is an art — one that deserves to be recognized as such. It’s a privilege, a hobby, a tool of self-expression, and it has taken me 18 years to fully embrace it.
The feminist in me wants to look at the Elf Hydrating Camo Concealer and chuck it in the trash (when it’s empty, of course, because that’s my favorite product). That part of me constantly wrestles with the idea that embracing makeup contradicts my feminist beliefs, in the same way that burning bras once symbolized liberation. But here’s the thing: I like wearing makeup, and I like having support — both in the literal and figurative sense. And that doesn’t make me any more or any less of a feminist.
Yes, makeup has been wielded as a patriarchal tool, shaping women into the ever-changing beauty standards set by men. Yes, some women feel uncomfortable going bare-faced in public or around their significant others. But wearing makeup doesn’t have to mean surrendering to the male gaze or masking insecurity. It can be a powerful, personal choice. And sometimes, I have to remind myself of that.
At age two, I began my dance journey, my very first introduction to the world of makeup and the sheer divinity of femininity. I remember watching the prima ballerinas take the stage, their pointe shoes gliding effortlessly, tiaras catching the light, and glittery eyeshadow making their expressions even more enchanting. They didn’t just dance — they mesmerized. Before my own performances, my mom would sit me on the bathroom sink, carefully sweep blue eyeshadow across my lids, press bright red lipstick onto my lips, and layer my cheeks with blush. Stage makeup had to be dramatic — almost garish — because the harsh stage lights would wash us out, making heavy makeup appear natural from the audience’s perspective. I remember sneakily reapplying my lipstick backstage, eager to emulate the older dancers as they confidently touched up their own faces, preparing to captivate the crowd.
My makeup journey truly began when I was eight, and became glued to YouTube makeup tutorials. Oddly enough, I was drawn exclusively to drag and transgender influencers (shoutout to Nikita Dragun, NikkieTutorials, and, uh … James Charles). Armed with my mom’s old makeup brushes and free sample products, I would try — often unsuccessfully — to recreate their dazzling looks. As my skills evolved, so did my collection, growing into those iconic Ulta gift boxes. My friends and I would challenge each other to blindfolded makeup battles, turning cosmetics into pure, unfiltered fun.
At fourteen (after lots of begging), I finally started wearing makeup daily — well, as daily as one could during the COVID-19 era. This was when I began to discover which products actually worked for my skin and how to apply makeup in a way that enhanced my own features rather than copying a face I had seen online. Looking back, I can admit that my choices weren’t always my own. I was in the throes of peak teenage insecurity, navigating hormonal chaos with very few trusted confidants. I wasn’t wearing the clothes I truly loved, and my makeup was less about self-expression and more about fitting into the mold of what I thought a girl my age should look like.
Now? I’m the girl who wears makeup 85% of the time. If I’m having a laid-back night-in or running on fumes, I’ll skip the full face. But most days, you’ll find me up at 7:30 a.m., meticulously blending my natural glam before class. It’s not just about the look — it’s the ritual. The way it makes me feel polished and ready to take on the day, like a cup of coffee or a perfectly curated outfit. There’s something empowering about controlling how flushed my cheeks appear or how voluminous my lashes look. It makes me sit up straighter in class, and that’s more than okay!
I’ve heard my fair share of men’s unsolicited opinions on makeup. And no matter how progressive a guy claims to be, it irks me that they still care. First of all, most of them can’t tell the difference between a no-makeup makeup look, a natural makeup look, or just a really good skin day. Second, the line between a solid makeup routine and a flattering outfit is razor-thin. Men reshape their faces with facial hair all the time, and no one bats an eye. But the second a woman does something similar, suddenly it’s up for debate.
At the end of the day, makeup is mine. It’s an art, a passion, a ritual, and sometimes, even a shield. But most importantly, it’s a choice. And that’s what makes it powerful.