My "Jewish[ness]"

You tell me to model for you because “I am beautiful”,

But then you go and edit myself away.

You fix the frizzy hair that was in my face because of the wind that I don't control.

You fix my right eyebrow because it’s not symmetrical to the other one.

You change my nose because it’s just too “jewish”.

You change my teeth because they’re a little crooked.

You slim down my waist because,

“The camera adds 5 pounds”.

You change my eyes,

You make them brighter and change the color.

 

You tell me to model for you because “I am beautiful”

And then you go and change every single feature that defines me.

I don’t care that my eyebrows aren’t perfect.

I don’t care that I have dark brown eyes,

I like them.

I don’t care that my hair blew in the wind,

I’m human.

 

But I guess that is exactly what the industry doesn’t understand.

They don’t get that sometimes,

The weather won’t cooperate with your photoshoot,

And maybe your hair was a little frizzy because it rained earlier,

And maybe you smudged your makeup a little on the way there,

And maybe you like your unique smile,

And maybe you don’t mind unequal eyebrows.

Maybe you don’t mind that what makes you, you is unique.

 

Maybe you don’t mind that you’re imperfect,

Because everyone is.

So why do we sit there editing picture to make sure they’re “Perfect”,

Why do we obsess over our smile and our eyebrows and our “Jewish” hair.

Why do we care what the people seeing this picture think of us?

 

I don’t know.

But I know I’m stopping the trend because the way we look at ourselves,

It is not the way I look at you.

And it is not the way I want you to see yourself.

And I pray it is not the way my kids will see themselves.

 

Because every time I look at you,

I see love and compassion.

I see a future and hope.

I don’t notice your “crooked teeth”,

I’m noticing your smile that lights up funeral homes,

I’m noticing the joy you bring people,

I’m noticing the way your eyes crinkle,

I’m noting all the things you love about yourself,

And all the things you don’t that I love for you.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Me

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