The Most Beautiful Letter

An essay about a personal reflection of beauty– its standards, sublime stereotypes and expectations — from Omolabake Adejumo

Dear reader,

I have something to tell you. I’m not saying I’m beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not beautiful. I’m also not feigning irksome humility, I promise. My present state is conflicting, jagged, and incomprehensible that is barely hanging on a strand of verisimilitude. However, if you don’t understand me, read the first line again.

For a few years, I have pondered on many scenarios surrounding beauty, its propagated beliefs and expectations, its ruthless testament and its reality. Therefore, I have decided to conjoin these outpourings in a letter– the most beautiful letter– I have ever written and you will ever read.

The Voice

Practising was easy. Alone, I could speak with so much gusto. My voice will be enough evidence for you to fall in love with me. Yes, fall in love. It was the idyllic picture of “get you a girl that can do both”. On some days, it’d be high pitched, floating across ears and emollient. Other days, it’d be coarse, raspy and vibratory, creating its attention. I liked it. I liked the subtle surprise on people’s faces. I liked the stereotype that lay shattered in their minds. I liked the disguise too. It was easy to uncloak myself from the trammels of predictability so that every time someone asked, “Why do you sound like this for a pretty face?”, I replied, “I don’t know”. I truly didn’t know.

The Shyness

No, it’s not a switch. I can’t just turn it off. I’m shy. No, it’s also not because I’m introverted. Not all introverts are shy. It’s a common myth to automatically associate shyness with introversion. There are four kinds of introverts. The social, the thinking, the anxious and the restrained introvert. I just happen to be an anxious introvert, whose major characteristic is shyness. It’s also not a disease that needs to be cured. It’s also not absurd. It’s just shyness. A feeling of awkwardness or fear caused by other people, especially in new situations or among strangers.

On days that I look down in public, stare in between the spaces of people rather than their faces while walking, or avoid eye contact while talking directly in front of people, don’t look at me like I’m crazy. You can nudge me placatingly. Don’t apprehend me by saying, “How can a fine girl like you be shy?’. I don’t even know what that means. I don’t understand the association between beauty and shyness. I have watched several videos about confidence and how the sporadic shift in mindsets can change one’s perspective and approach to life. I’ve watched people talk about how they can now dare to walk on the moon while the whole world is watching because they don’t sincerely care. Yes, I love such examples too. Slightly delusional but I love it. I’m also waiting for the divine shift in mindset. I’m waiting for confidence to ensnare me as well, even though I stylishly wonder why the opposite of shyness is confidence.

At least, if I was fortunate, I wouldn’t have been bestowed with anxiety too. Now, I’m taking deep breaths at intervals, while staring at anxiety medications like they’re the answer to all my questions in life. These days, I’m wondering how to create a new excuse for my delinquency of not picking calls. I thought my phone was for my convenience, not the caller. I also thought it was easier to text. Why am I repeatedly explaining myself and apologizing for missed calls that exacerbate my anxiety? Don’t even look at me like that. I’m also trying new things too. In my mind, for now. Like practising a friendship break up speech.

The Course

No, you’re not an ambulance. ‘Wow wow wow’ does not convey a complete thought. I understand your surprise but at the same time, I don’t. I understand your astonishment but at the same time, I don’t feel complimented by the fact that you’re surprised I’m studying Pharmacy. Also, the next time you realize it doesn’t change anything in the real sense, I would rather you say, “You’ll make a good pharmacist”, instead of a ‘beautiful pharmacist’. I really wish I could save lives by being beautiful but that’s not the way it works. I genuinely care about my knowledge and skills in this field, regardless of the constant overwhelm. I also don’t like that your attitude has changed quite a bit because of the sprinkle of authority bias my course has slung at your face. I would appreciate it if you would just act normally, without any exaggerated behaviour, unnecessary puffery, nothing. Just be yourself. I promise you that it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about this course the way you think I do.

The Relationship Status

Singleness is a phase. For some of us, it’s almost a religion, but in a good way. No, I have not forgotten the benefits of companionship. Also, no, Valentine’s day is only once a year so the palpability of my relationship status doesn’t last so long. I don’t understand the concept of beauty being a cue to be in a relationship. Why do I have to think of answers to questions like, ‘As beautiful as you are, why are you single?’. Why can’t people be single? Why should there be a reason even? Why do I have to smile stupidly to wave off the question? Also, why do you think I’m lying that I’m single? I understand you, to an extent, but what do I do when the love of my life –Luka Sabbat– has rejected me? Next time that I tell you I’m single, don’t ask me if I’m ready to mingle. Accept it like Pharmacy final results. Accept it completely without any ounce of judgement.

The Interest

Don’t gape when I reveal my underlying love for the convent. Don’t tell me it’s not for people like me. Again, I don’t even know what that means. Don’t tell me I will be bored. I have thought of these things more intensely than you ever will. After all, I was the one who told you about my interest. I don’t mind being called weird, strange or –sometimes for people who prefer to preserve the sanctity of their tongues –unique. I am now used to different terms. They are tucked gently in my mind, actions, and soul. They are deeply emblazoned to the core of my being. They no longer have any effect on me, like the wonder in people’s faces when they hear of my interest in becoming a reverend sister. Truly, I may understand your surprise. It’s never an easy decision to make. It’s also harder to even have it linger in your mind like interesting conversations with your crush. However, going to the seminary or becoming a reverend sister is valid. It’s as valid as becoming a model, a musician or a doctor. If you’re lucky, you can do all. After all, dreams still come true, don’t they?

The Miscellaneous

Like my handwriting. Like my choice of music. Like my sexuality. Like my values. Like everything else. No, they’re not yours. They’re mine. Why then have you become a judge questioning what people ought to like or do because they’re aesthetically pleasing?

This title is not a mistake. This letter is the most beautiful. This is because it exists in its truest form unlike me- a mere clone shoved around by people pleasers and insatiable humans.

Yours beautifully,

The Clone

Omolabake Adejumo is a Nigerian writer, storyteller and a final year Pharmacy student at Obafemi Awolowo University, Nigeria. Her curiosity is her major drive to write. Her story ‘This is not my country’ has been published in YoungAfrikan magazine and her second story ‘Homesick’ in Brittlepaper magazine. You can connect with her on Twitter @onewildwriter. She publishes on Medium at Labake Adejumo