In My Skin

I wish I could say my severe face eczema is the ugliest thing about me. It would be so much less shameful than the truth. Maybe that’s why 7 years ago, I did the craziest thing I’d ever done and I posted a selfie to Facebook during the worst flare-up of my life. It felt so powerful to confront my biggest fear in such a convincing way. But what I conveniently left out was that an even bigger fear had taken its place around a truly hideous lie.

Up until that point, I had done everything in my power to prevent anyone from seeing the real me, and everyday I would wake up and assault my skin for hours with every doctor recommended ointment, cream and moisturizer that I could afford. I would wear sweaters in 95 degree heat to hide the red, flaking rashes on my arms and neck. The stress of trying to hide the sun with my thumb would only make every successive flare-up even worse. It was a vicious cycle that could only be stopped by letting go of my most prized possession—the doctored image of myself I had placed in everyone’s mind.

So I did.

I am so fortunate to have been surrounded by people who genuinely care about me and have never made me feel shame for looking the way I do. Family, friends, colleagues— they value me for the content of my character, not the color(s) of my skin. They have learned the stronger lessons of our society, and I have been the opportunity for them to put those lessons into practice. They have shown me that my cynicism about human nature is misplaced, and that my real fear was that they would judge me the way I judge myself. That day, they made me strong and powerful.

I thought this act of ultra transparency would be the end of having to keep secrets. But it only highlighted the parts of myself that had been hiding even more shameful truths. The reality is there is another person in this body that can at times feel weak and unattractive—my shadow self.

For him, love is not enough. He trades in lustful desires and sexual conquests. He is not a gentleman, and he never goes beyond basic instinct. He is an animal. When superficial rejection does happen to him (which in Miami, happens often, and not just in romantic contexts), he gets hurt. He wants to complain, and he wants to cry. He so desperately wants to find someone who understands.

But I do not allow him to do those things, because I have an image to maintain, and I’m afraid of what people might say. I’m afraid they’ll say, “Why do you want to be around someone so superficial?”, or ,”Your standards of attractiveness have been warped by porn and social media.” or “It’s wrong for you to complain when there are truly unattractive people out there who have never even been in a relationship.”

And I know they’re right. But still, he is insatiable. He wants what he wants.

I have done my best to keep him hidden, for he is ugly, and disgusting to look at. I am disappointed in him, I am ashamed of him, and I wish he was dead.

Everytime I think I’ve killed him, everytime I get my health in order and my skin is glowing, he finds a way to come back. An outbreak, or an allergic reaction, or the most painful diarrhea, or an episode, or an infection, or an inconclusive diagnosis, or a hospital stay, or just, a really bad skin day. Just to remind me. “Yeah, I’m your shadow, and I’m not going anywhere.”

This is the relationship we’ve had for 37 years.

Kindness for me, cruelty for him.

Grace for me, punishment for him. Forgiveness for me, judgment for him.

Joy for me, sadness for him.

Company for me, loneliness for him.

Happiness for me, anger for him.

Love for me, hatred for him.

Life for me, death for him.

Seven years ago, I posted the worst picture I had ever taken, contrary to every current and norm in the age of social media.(You can see it here: https://www.facebook.com/share/1CGNpCa4tt/?mibextid=wwXIfr)

And yet, to this day, it is my most “liked” and shared original content. It was in so many ways an act of self-liberation from this economic system that runs on the currency of beauty. I so detest that system, and have been trying in vain to change it. And yet, my most ironic secret is that my shadow self loves this system, unconditionally.

Yes, the system I feared would reject me is also the one that he had been using to reject others. He knows it hurts him, he knows its contrary to his interests, but he doesn’t care. He knows that the alternative would require him to adjust his warped standards of beauty away from what this highly superficial world has raised him in. But he will not be forced to be attracted to what he finds unattractive. And he knows he is the king of the unattractive. But liberation requires that I stop denying this king his existence. And when I shared that photo on Facebook, I was no longer a slave to that denial. I had begun the process of acknowledging the parts of myself I never wanted anyone to see. That’s a journey I’m now comfortable to be on for the rest of my life.

This painting by my brilliant artist friend Giovanny Lopez is another step in that journey of self-acceptance. (You can see it here: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DM0SCJUO3Wc/?igsh=MTc3cnZlcTVvY201aw==)

It is also an acknowledgment that so much of the prejudice, ignorance and exploitation that I have been fighting against has been present in my own soul, and will continue to be present until the end. Perhaps there is no killing it completely. Perhaps there is only making peace with it, and coexisting.

My shadow self reached out to me today for a handshake. I swatted his hand away… and then came in for the biggest bear hug I’ve ever given. Picking him up off his feet, and carrying him around for the world to see. Embracing him hard enough to make up for all the years he was held in captivity, toiling away in obscurity while I cashed checks that I never would have earned without his sacrifice.

Today, someone is looking at you, your red and flaking face, and they are overwhelmed with emotion. They have finally found someone who understands and they’re feeling what true freedom feels like for the first time. I could only ever dream of having that kind of an impact on the world. And I couldn’t be more proud.

I cannot heal you to my expectations. But I can stop being the reason you need to be healed. You did nothing wrong. You are not at fault. You are beautiful, because I decide what beauty means to me. You are perfect. And you are free.