Appearances…

What’s the Point of That?

"What's the Point of That?" — A Story About Looking, Being, and Belonging

Yesterday morning, I walked into work with my hair still wet from the shower. Something I do pretty often, actually. I don't really think much of it. The fresh water on my scalp feels like a kind of baptism into the day, and if my shirt gets a little damp, whatever. I have other things to worry about.

As I'm walking through the office, this woman I work with looks at me and goes: "Viola, do you just get out of the shower and put your shirt right on? Because your shirt is wet!"

She said it in that teasing, sing-song way that people use when they're trying to be playful, but the words still landed right there in front of everyone. Out loud. About my body. My appearance.

And I found myself saying, with this half smile: "You know, I once had a boyfriend who asked me, 'Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror before you leave the house?'" I paused for a second, then added: "And I told him, 'What's the point of that?'"

She looked at me like I had just thrown cold water across the room. Wide mouth, wide eyes. Like I had said something completely unthinkable.

But What Was That All About?

Look, I don't think she meant any harm. And my boyfriend back then? He didn't either. He made that mirror comment while he was adjusting my bra strap, which had gotten twisted while I was getting dressed. Maybe he thought he was being helpful. Maybe he thought I'd want to know. But there was definitely a tone behind it. Like I hadn't tried hard enough or something.

In both situations, at work and years ago with him, I was just existing in my body. Wearing clothes. Moving through the world with this natural rhythm I have. No performance. No apology. No unnecessary fuss about anything.

And apparently, for some people, that's really unsettling.

It Wasn't Really About Me

The woman at work always looks so put-together. Not flashy or anything, just composed. Like she's thought about every little detail. And there's nothing wrong with that! There's actually something beautiful about it. But I've started to notice something: people who spend time polishing themselves often get uncomfortable around someone who doesn't.

My wet hair wasn't some kind of rebellion. My twisted bra strap wasn't a cry for help. But to them, maybe it felt like I was disrupting something.

And sometimes, when people feel disrupted like that, they try to fix the moment by making a comment. A little correction. A gentle push. A reminder about how things are supposed to go.

I Didn't Break the Rules I Just Never Really Agreed to Them

What I'm starting to understand is that when you live outside this whole world of performing for approval, people don't always know what to do with you. They might try to nudge you back toward what they expect. Not because they're trying to be mean, but because of all this stuff they learned about how you're supposed to be.

Because for a lot of us, especially women, looking right has been taught as this form of protection. Be presentable. Be pleasing. Keep everything composed and in its place.

But there's another kind of safety too. The safety that comes from actually being comfortable with yourself. The safety of not needing to check the mirror to figure out if you're okay.

A Gentle Thought

I have compassion for them, for anyone who learned that being acceptable is the same thing as being loved. I've been there too. But I'm also really grateful for the parts of me that have let go of all that.

Because sometimes your shirt is wet. Sometimes your strap gets twisted. And none of that means you're doing anything wrong.

If This Sounds Familiar

If you've ever been on the receiving end of these kinds of comments, the "Did you mean to wear that?" or "You look tired today" or "You should smile more" ones, I want you to know this:

You're not a performance.

You're this living, breathing, constantly changing person. And not everyone is going to understand the peace that comes when you stop trying to perform all the time.

And that's okay. You don't have to teach them anything. Just keep walking with your wet shirt and your open heart, fully alive in whatever way feels true to you.