UGLY

A queer, gender nonconforming mother directly addresses her daughter about self-esteem and beauty standards.

In a valiant and audacious effort to spare her daughter some of the discomforts of modern patriarchal restrictions and expectations, journalist Fairyington pens a book-length sentiment to her daughter countering the “active and hostile repudiation of what I, as a woman, am called upon, daily, to do: please the gaze of others, especially men (but women too).” She reflects on the longing she’d felt to “fuse my bloodline” with her longtime partner Sabrina’s, resulting in the complex decision to have her carry their daughter through a pregnancy fraught with biological and psychological challenges. At 49, Fairyington’s startling self-perception that she is ugly (“a word with fangs”) isn’t necessarily implied in a literal sense, but is, conversely, based on several factors: the manufactured conception of impossible beauty standards foisted on females like her by appearance-obsessed societal norms, her unapologetic queerness and sexual expression, and her gender dysmorphia. As mothers, she and Sabrina fret that their daughter will mature into a vapid culture that insists on a style of dress, appearance, sexuality, and identity curated by social trends and conformity rather than by personal choice and self-awareness. The main thrust of her passionate discourse is, naturally, to instill self-confidence in her daughter. Fairyington’s vulnerability is evident as she admits to the impact that becoming a mother has had on her life, her identity, and her precarious sense of self-worth. Through reflections on parenthood, LGBTQ+ historical context, and biting reprovals of American culture, Fairyington’s concerns for her impressionable offspring are valid, sharp, and urgent, yet eloquently conveyed in this hybrid of maternal love letter and cautionary counsel.

A heartfelt consideration on navigating queer parenthood on one’s own terms, cathartic for both mother and daughter.