“I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God has given you one face and you make yourselves another.”
For those not familiar with this quote, it comes from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, delivered by the title character. I remember reading this section in tenth grade and thinking, oh, good one, Hamlet. You sure showed any girl who wears makeup. It was a childish and misguided thought to have at fifteen, but at 25, it’s funny to think about where this thought sprouted from. Hamlet’s commentary popped up in my head again the other day and it got my gears a-turnin’.
In the spirit of taking my own advice, I’ve been trying to shift some of my focus back toward my journey and get back in the habit of confronting my past, as well as my traumas and insecurities. On this exciting episode, I tackle an aspect that would cause Hamlet to make a comment or two: my face. I know, it’s exhilarating. No, what you’re probably all feeling is confusion. Why in the holy Helles lager is Tyler talking about his face? Well, because I’m finally working on the pentimento of my “painting,” as our sweet Danish prince would call it.
Allow me to explain a bit. I used to hate my face and when I say hate, I mean it. It wasn’t the worst face, but to an awkward and very confused teenager, it was one of the few things I couldn’t stand, yet had no way of hiding. So initially, I grew my hair out. You can’t see this ugly mug if it’s hidden behind a Beatle-esque mop of blonde! You see, I couldn’t grow a beard yet, so I needed something to shield me from this masculine caricature. Hair would do. It did a pretty good job too. With my hair longer, I felt safe. No one could fully see my face if I let my bangs flop down, it kept me hidden.
Granted, this can be connected to my dysphoria, because the hiding didn’t stop there. I cannot fully express my excitement when I was finally able to grow a beard. It was all over then. These led to several uncomfortable years where my beard was first coming in as a patchy, fair-haired little beard. This didn’t matter though, because I still used it to obscure my face. I chalked it up to wanting to come off as more masculine. I wanted to look like an adult, but there was no ignoring the true intent. The beard would be my ultimate safety blanket. It would obscure the atrocity underneath it. The abuse I slew at my appearance was horrible. It’s keeping me humble, I would lie to myself, this self-deprecation is in no way super harmful or toxic. This was a very toxic time for me and I was the conductor of it all. I would get depressed when I had to shave. No Shave November was as resented as much as the dentist, or the doctor, despite the very excited mask I would paint for my friends. I didn’t want to see my beard go, but I knew it would come back.
Time passed and growing a beard became something I merely attributed to my appearance. The verbal abuse toward my face had lessened dramatically, but there was a lingering dependence. But when I finally admitted to my dysphoria, a sort of shame settled over me. I would look at my face and see the opposite of feminine. I completely understand how I appear to the world. Yes, I know that I probably look like the guy romantic comedies warn you about and there’s a whole can of worms that can come from this sentiment alone, but I am painfully aware of my masculine presentation. It will take time to unlearn.
That being said, I suddenly found myself shaving. Frequently. The boy who never wanted his face to be seen ever, was suddenly feeling comfortable with leaving it bare. After every shave, I would try to notice the things that were cute about my face. It’s true that I have grown into it, so I try to tell myself as such. Personally, I don’t feel like I have many feminine features, and that is ok, because I’m trying to be comfortable with that fact. I was given this face upon birth and I tried to hide and paint over it for decades. My shame fought to mask my entire being, to keep my true self from those around me, but no more. I want to display my face the way it should be. Do I get lazy and let the beard go sometimes? Sure, but I am far more in the habit of shaving than I ever was and that feels comforting to me. I no longer want to hide my face, but celebrate it in the best ways I can. I’m proud of myself in this way and I wanted to share this stepping stone with you all.