Related article: Oscars Sooooo Queer Though ideals of beauty change weekly it seems, search the web to find consistent confirmation that beautiful people are generally happier, healthier, and wealthier. What does that mean for the rest of us? You may have had plastic surgery, one of 17.7 million in 2018 just in the U.S., or added your dollars to the global beauty industry, worth almost $550 billion. In this time of the coronavirus and face masks, showing off that 50-buck lipstick or $10k rhinoplasty could become risky. Sometimes neither makeup nor surgery matters. We all know a beautiful person, conceited and cruel, who becomes ugly, and a homely person, kind and funny, who becomes beautiful. We can blame parents. Genetics plays its cruel, random role, as does addiction and disease. I knew a handsome man who succumbed to meth; he was barely recognizable. Ravaging faces, AIDS forced gay men to reevaluate their most valued currency: again, beauty. To a degree, that’s all we had to barter: our face, body, and costume on display where gay men gathered. When I was young, the Castro Street clone was de-rigueur. I desperately tried to conform but never pulled it off. I vividly remember the anguish I felt at not being hot enough, which in retrospect seems like such a waste. Because I was good enough, smart enough, and doggonit, people liked me! (Thank you, Stuart Smalley.) Figuring out what face we want to present to the world is a lifelong pursuit. We bravely, awkwardly experiment in our youth. In the 90s, I was an human resource director for a call center. The goth movement was in full swing, or full puncture. Tongue studs, nose rings, and heavy gauge eyebrow rings were the accoutrement of rebellion and self-expression. I met sweet, smart, young men and women who were certainly more than their faces. The business owners didn’t care about their metallic jewelry because these employees worked on phones using their “smiling voices.” I live during another cultural awakening. Today’s youth have added the Q to LGBTQ, declaring a smorgasbord of gender identity and sexual preference. Their achievement goes way beyond the faces of epicene tomboys and pretty boys, furthering awareness of the infinite variety of humanity. Also in our community, drag queens have decided with gusto for decades what faces they present to the world. I’ve never done drag; I had the cheekbones, but never the balls. I love people-watching at airports, stores, on the street, at the theatre or work. I pass many judgments—we all do; yes, you do!—and they of me: race, religion, sexuality, gender, attractiveness, to name a few. Getting beyond judgments during rare interactions, I’ve been amazed at what individuals unveil: humor, tragedy, astonishing achievements or talents, their humanity.
Related article: Love Smacked Me in the Face. Hard. Four out of five senses reside above the neck and provide us with feedback and expression of and in our world. Yet, we never see ourselves in the world. It would be awkward walking around with a mirror dangling from a hat, not to mention dangerous, but that’s what we do with our phones, selfies substituting mirrors for verification that, yes, I exist in the world. My verification comes at bedtime, lying next to my partner, Neil. I’m amazed this beautiful man lies next to me. Beauty in the eyes of this beholder declares I’m a lucky, lucky man. And I’m lucky, after my face burn and peeling off sheets of solar keratoses, those brown, scaly bumps from sun damage (you know, old-age spots), to have a smooth, pink face. It’ll do quite nicely. With all the billions who have lived before us, no one has ever had your face. No one has it today; no one ever will in the future. Celebrate it; take care of it. And stay out of the sun!
