{"id":5262,"date":"2016-06-04T19:53:09","date_gmt":"2016-06-04T14:23:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/13.201.39.237\/?p=5262"},"modified":"2016-06-04T19:53:09","modified_gmt":"2016-06-04T14:23:09","slug":"red-lipstick-kajal-lip-balm-relationship-feminism-heels","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/13.207.105.184\/?p=5262","title":{"rendered":"The Girl Without the Red Lipstick: Why I Keep Saying No To Make-Up"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

B<\/span><\/p><\/div>

\nack in 2004, I was eight years old and auditioned for the role of a princess in a <\/span>school<\/span><\/a> play. The role I landed was that of a prince. My drama teacher told me that I got it because I looked like a boy and that my personality would suit the role. All it took for her to make that assumption was my cropped hair.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nThat was only the beginning of my tryst with the world reminding me time and again that there was \u201csomething wrong\u201d with my tomboyish ways. But the more everyone told me to stop \u201cbeing like a boy\u201d, the more I resisted anything that was even remotely girly. My hair continued to remain short, I wore oversized T-shirts and loose pants, refusing to put on a hairband, leave alone a dress. And I was not alone; I had <\/span>friends<\/span><\/a> who were girls and a lot like me.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nBut it all began to change as we entered our teens. As our bodies began to transform, the girls in my class started to get little makeovers. Many started <\/span>waxing<\/span><\/a>, some got their noses pierced, and almost everyone started applying kajal and lip balm. I continued to detest it all. It didn\u2019t help that my mother did not use any make-up either.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nThat didn\u2019t mean my resistance to \u201cgirly\u201d things didn\u2019t have a price \u2013 or didn\u2019t take a toll on me. I\u2019d hate social outings and <\/span>festivals<\/span><\/a> the most because that was the time my friends dolled up. I, with my chapped lips and baggy pants, would stick out like a sore thumb. Pleas by my classmates to \u201cwear some rouge\u201d or taunts by relatives to \u201cat least use some powder\u201d would only make me more irritable.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nI still remember a Children\u2019s Day party at school. I was in Class IX. My friends were strutting around in heels and dresses with their red <\/span>lipstick<\/span><\/a> and soft, smokey eyes, all hyping each other up. I was in my usual chequered shirt and jeans, almost invisible, no compliments coming my way. I\u2019d be lying if I said I did not want the attention or I wasn\u2019t tempted to give in to peer pressure, but for me that meant accepting that there was\u00a0 something in me that needed fixing via make-up. So, every time somebody offered me a kajal pencil, I said no.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nSomewhere, there was also the fear that if I picked up an eyeliner or a blush, I would be inviting more scrutiny.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nWhat was a fun tryst for most teenage girls, turned into a sort of fear for me. What if I picked up the wrong shade of foundation or applied excessive eyeshadow? What if I looked funny with the lip gloss? So, the slightest curiosity that I would have about <\/span>make-up<\/span><\/a> was killed early by an inherent need to avoid any confrontation with the Mean Girls of my life.<\/span>\n\nI convinced myself that I was a rebel. Yet despite my best efforts at self-acceptance, that feeling of being the odd one out, manifested in insidious ways. Well into my mid-teens, I continued to say no to make-up, but there were other ways I tried to fit in. At the age of 18, I began waxing my face which complained in the form of a million red rashes with every visit to the parlour. I gave in to my \u201cfeminine side\u201d after a boy I liked joked on our first date that we should immediately break up if didn\u2019t wax my \u201chairy arms\u201d. By now, everyone around me was getting <\/span>romantic<\/span><\/a> attention, and I wasn\u2019t ready to sit this one out.\u00a0<\/span>\n\n

Well into my mid-teens, I continued to say no to make-up, but there were other ways I tried to fit in.<\/p><\/blockquote> \n\nMonths later, after persistent pestering from my bestie, I went to buy kajal, convincing myself that it didn\u2019t really \u201cqualify as make-up\u201d. And there began the journey of my eternal dependance with kohl. I went from wearing it occasionally to not stepping out of the house without it. Eventually I gave up the loose tees and baggy jeans. I occasionally started wearing <\/span>heels<\/span><\/a>.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nBut, unlike the movies, it didn\u2019t make me a different person. I didn\u2019t overnight become feminine or stop hanging with my gang of boys.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nThat\u2019s when I realised that my problem was not with make-up, but with makeover culture. The one that propagates that the way for women to find themselves, to be accepted and not mocked at, is by embracing their more \u201cfeminine sides\u201d. And this <\/span>femininity<\/span><\/a> was often defined narrowly \u2013 with body-hugging clothes; long, mostly straight hair; and tons of make-up.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nPop culture has been fixated with makeover culture for decades. \u201cWalt Disney\u2019s Cinderella is a poster-girl of makeover culture. Unveiled in 1950, the film asserted the power of changing our appearance as an escape from drudgery and a route to romance and the happily-ever-after. Now the spirit of Cinderella lives on, in a more digital and dispersed form across the media landscape,\u201d says <\/span>an essay<\/span><\/a> titled \u201cThe Makeover Trap\u201d.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nWhen I was young, we read Meg Cabot\u2019s <\/span>Princess Diaries<\/span><\/i> and watched <\/span>Jassi Jaisi Koi Nahi<\/span><\/i>, the desi version of <\/span>Ugly Betty<\/span><\/i>. These books and shows introduce us to makeover culture at an impressionable age. In <\/span>Princess Diaries<\/span><\/i><\/a>, Mia Thermopolis needed to be groomed, her braces and chunky glasses removed, her hairstyle changed, in order to assume her duties as a princess. Jassi was a clumsy, unconfident woman, until she got a makeover, which magically fuelled her self-esteem. The notion that a woman becomes a best version of herself only when she is beautified \u2013 in a very very myopic way defined by society \u2013 has been sown in our psyche.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nGrowing up, I always related to the clumsy Jassi than the sexy one; I\u2019d rather befriend a Mia with the braces than the one with perfectly sparkly teeth. So when my teenage friends tempted me with an eyeshadow or rouge, I felt I was being unfaithful to the Jaasis and Mias of the world. I wasn\u2019t then resisting make-up but makeover culture. The flawed belief that confidence, success, and happiness comes packed in your vanity kit.\u00a0<\/span>\n\nNow in my 20s, I am self-aware and can sidestep such pandering, even though my <\/span>relationship<\/span><\/a> with make-up remains slightly tetchy. I feel like I have reached a compromise over the years. I have grown my hair and though I don\u2019t remember the last time I wore heels, I have become a master of eyeliner. I know for sure that I don\u2019t need that red lipstick to boost my confidence or find my true self, but I\u2019m also aware that applying one won\u2019t make me a better person or worse.<\/span>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As our bodies began to transform when we turned teens, the girls in my class started to get little makeovers. Many started waxing, some got their noses pierced, and almost everyone started applying kajal and lip balm. I resisted them all, convinced that giving in to make-up would suggest that I wasn\u2019t enough the way I was; that I needed fixing to fit in.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":295,"featured_media":5263,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[170],"tags":[1279,8960,8961,1350,8962,8963,8964,228,8965,1691],"class_list":["post-5262","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-gender","tag-femininity","tag-kajal","tag-lip-balm","tag-make-up","tag-makeovers","tag-princess-diaries","tag-red-lipstick","tag-relationship","tag-ugly-betty","tag-waxing"],"yoast_head":"\nThe Girl Without the Red Lipstick: Why I Keep Saying No To Make-Up<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"As our bodies began to transform when we turned teens, the girls in my class started to get little makeovers. 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I resisted them all, convinced that giving in to make-up would suggest that I wasn\u2019t enough the way I was; that I needed fixing to fit in.\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"http:\/\/13.201.39.237\/?p=5262\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Arr\u00e9\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2016-06-04T14:23:09+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"http:\/\/13.201.39.237\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/1566396153.png\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1520\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"850\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/png\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Meghalee Mitra\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:title\" content=\"The Girl Without the Red Lipstick: Why I Keep Saying No To Make-Up\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:description\" content=\"As our bodies began to transform when we turned teens, the girls in my class started to get little makeovers. 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I resisted them all, convinced that giving in to make-up would suggest that I wasn\u2019t enough the way I was; that I needed fixing to fit in.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Meghalee Mitra\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"6 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\\\/\\\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/?p=5262#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/?p=5262\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Meghalee Mitra\",\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/person\\\/0e2882cabbcd3240c5259ddb42948f4c\"},\"headline\":\"The Girl Without the Red Lipstick: Why I Keep Saying No To Make-Up\",\"datePublished\":\"2016-06-04T14:23:09+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/?p=5262\"},\"wordCount\":1146,\"image\":{\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/?p=5262#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.207.105.184\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2026\\\/07\\\/1566396153.png\",\"keywords\":[\"Femininity\",\"kajal\",\"lip balm\",\"Make up\",\"makeovers\",\"Princess Diaries\",\"Red Lipstick\",\"relationship\",\"Ugly Betty\",\"waxing\"],\"articleSection\":[\"Gender\"],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/?p=5262\",\"url\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/?p=5262\",\"name\":\"The Girl Without the Red Lipstick: Why I Keep Saying No To Make-Up\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/?p=5262#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/?p=5262#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.207.105.184\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2026\\\/07\\\/1566396153.png\",\"datePublished\":\"2016-06-04T14:23:09+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"http:\\\/\\\/13.201.39.237\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/person\\\/0e2882cabbcd3240c5259ddb42948f4c\"},\"description\":\"As our bodies began to transform when we turned teens, the girls in my class started to get little makeovers. 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