applying makeup

Yesterday morning, one of our residents was not allowed access to her makeup as a result of her poor behavior. She went to school and some stupid boy made a comment about her being ugly. Whether his statement was a response to her uncovered face or a petty, first-grade comeback from a high school student was irrelevant. My resident felt exposed and decided that she would rather skip school for the rest of the day than be seen without her covering.

I'll be honest, I generally hate makeup. I understand its usefulness, and have occasionally seen it applied in ways that accentuate amazing qualities. But as a whole, it seems to be more commonly applied to fix the characteristics that women find least presentable. I understand that a woman desires to be presentable and accepted as beautiful, so I can only speak from a dude-point-of-view: I want to find a woman beautiful as she is, rather than what she must make herself to be.

Later in the evening, I was struggling with another resident that typically gives me the most resistance. The most simple direction can lead her to become frustrated with me, and she approaches our relationship differently than she does with other staff. This time, I upset her good when she was given a consequence for using foul language. After a long rant (to which I did not reply), she sat in a chair to cool down. She finally addressed me in a calm voice, only to ask if she could call someone else since she couldn't talk to me.

I used this moment to address the heart of our problem. She doesn't trust me because she doesn't know me, but she doesn't know me because she doesn't trust me. I began pouring from my heart how her actions -- and my "job obligation" to her actions -- were driving a wedge between us. She had drawn some faulty conclusions about me based on perceptions she had made. She felt she was being targeted, and that I was bent on seeing her fail. Each time she saw my initials next to a consequence, she assumed it was my decision alone, and not one made by the entire team.

As I began to express from my heart the false judgments that were being made, I became a bit glassy eyed. It was "unprofessional" for me to get choked up at work, but for the first time, the resident was able to see that our struggle (and its resolution) meant something to me. I wasn't just a cold body intent on making her life miserable; I was a caring adult that was just as frustrated as she was.

On the way home, I thought about my post from Saturday. I believe that I've taken a sense of pride in being unshaken by the wind and waves, giving others the impression that I do not feel as they do. This is why the "hero complex" has bothered me so greatly: I know that I'm being evaluated on my costume and not the beauty (or mess) inside.

There's a disconnect between the strong, unblemished face we want people to see and the purified face that we want to admire. A superhero rarely gets the girl because he wrestles to uphold the identity and strength of his character while she longs to know the man underneath. In each of these stories, the man determines that the need for a hero outweighs his personal desire to be known unveiled.

If I take off the makeup, I must face the fear of being vulnerable. The world will see my pimples, scars, and discolorations. My bedhead will rest above these puffy, tired eyes. The mask will become useless when I am first exposed, because everyone will know that my strength is a facade. You will not forget the ugly tears that fall upon real flesh.

I'm tired of hating what I've become, while the original image lies beneath.