Unmasked

I just opened a fresh batch of Sunnies Face makeup products I bought to treat myself (I got it on sale from one of their social media retail platforms). As someone who lives and breathes makeup—it always feels as if you’re unboxing a gift, you’ve always wanted to receive on special occasions, or it feels as if it’s a book freshly displayed from a rack in a bookstore and then you finally have it in your hands in all its glory and pristineness.

I bought myself a lip tint, a complexion multi-stick, and a lip balm. Not even an ounce of my innermost intentions would shudder and say that all of this is retail therapy—can’t I use makeup to make myself presentable and look good in front of the eyes of everybody? And if I may, I do believe that makeup is gender-neutral; this has always been my justification. But maybe all this time, I was using makeup as a mask that repressed how I truly felt.

Whenever I go to work, run errands, or sometimes end up in an area mostly flooded by people, believe me when I say that I get eerie side-eyes, the occasional whispers, and sometimes, if I’m lucky enough, some people compliment me on how I did my makeup. Some scary encounters I had would be people scanning you from head to toe or just staring at your face for seconds. Sometimes, I even wonder what babies think when they look at me.

At first, thinking about people’s mixed reactions kind of bothered me, but I eventually learned to roll with it—not until you are unexpectedly confronted with things that make you doubt yourself over and over again and circumstances that make you lose all the faith you started with yourself.

Being constantly pinned to social media, you get to see many facets that you constantly wished for—Nadine Lustre’s morena glow, Liza Soberano’s perfect face, Kathyrn Bernardo’s effortless beauty, Kendall Jenner’s body, and the list goes on infinitely. Everything seems perfect, but the reality is, maybe they are also battling insecurities just like I do—just like every one of us.

I also collect fashion and lifestyle magazines and I’ve always wished I could look like those who appear on the covers.

Succumbing to social media pressure and the extensive exposure to various media platforms has unconsciously shaped the way I viewed myself to the point where I started believing an unreachable beauty standard that I kept forcing myself to reach.

I dreaded my pitted acne scars, I loathed my uneven skin tone, I even cursed myself for being brown-skinned because I was the total opposite of what I thought society wanted me to be. I prayed and demanded acceptance, but along the way, I failed to realize that I was punishing myself just for simply begging to fit the mold.

The worst thing a person has done to me that I couldn’t get rid of my system was blatantly calling me “ugly.” Hearing this from people you don’t know might sting a little, but hearing it from a person you like completely changes the entire narrative.

Makeup helped me in those moments when I looked in front of a mirror and didn’t like what I saw. Makeup concealed me from the insecurities I battle with every single day of my life. Patting on translucent powder, applying tint to my lips, and fixing my brows have empowered me in more ways than one and have given me unbreakable confidence that helps me get through the day.

But don’t get me wrong. It took so long, almost half of my life, to accept how I look—this journey toward self-love has not come easy, but I have made peace with the fact that I am not a different person when I wear makeup. At the end of the day, when I finally remove all the art I created on my face, I have the strength and wisdom to love and accept how I look—with or without makeup.

In fact, when I have makeup on, I realize that it’s still me, only my features are more defined and enhanced. Even without makeup, I can still be beautiful.

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My bare face does not make me less of a human being—it makes me raw; it makes me real; it makes me vulnerable but strong at the same time, it makes me creative, and it helps me embrace my individuality and uniqueness.

I’ve realized that if we keep on listening and caring about what other people have to say about how we look, we are depriving ourselves of becoming the most authentic, unapologetic, self-assured, and empowered version of ourselves. I promised myself that from here on, there would be no more doubts this time.

I used to wear makeup like armor, protecting me from those who judge other people for a living.  I used to wear makeup as a mask, but now, it’s a sigil of pride, knowing that I don’t need anyone’s validation that I look beautiful. I am doing my makeup not for anyone but myself.

I profusely apologize if I ever offended anyone for wearing makeup, but truth be told, I will never ever apologize for being myself, for wearing makeup, and for expressing who I am.

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Brett Andrew Rikke P. Bungcayao, 27, is a college instructor at a university in Ilocos Norte.