Fascist Beauty Standards

Right now I’m reading a book called Uglies. It’s set in the future, and the past population (that would be us, guys) has apparently murdered itself through its own stupidity, and is considered barbaric, backwards, and ignorant. Now, the human population is tiny; there isn’t much of a USA anymore, it’s just a landmass with many isolated cities that are cut off from each other by the ruins of the past— burned metal frames that used to be buildings, charred car remains twisted around each other in the streets, absolutely no people—and stretches of wilderness. The cities that have risen to replace the old ones are just little bubbles of society, so insular that the mere idea of leaving one’s own city is tantamount to dropping off the face of the earth. Inside these cities, everything is automated and information technology has grown out of control, infusing all facets of life. Everyone wears a ring through which they can control certain machines or appliances around them with just a word (elevators, for instance). These rings also identify and track them, so they are watched by an unseen, unnamed authority which punishes them for breaking certain arbitrary rules (such as venturing past the limits of the city and into the ruins without permission).

Because the population is so small, it’s very important that people have babies, which requires them to fuck. And, as we all know, that requires some level of physical attraction, and in this society, the underlying biological and psychological motivations in that complicated exchange are prescribed to every boy and girl at age 16. It comes in the form of a The Swan-esque full-body surgical makeover. The bones are carved and ground in some places, while plastic implants are added in others. Any excess fat is permanently removed. The body is elongated if too short, and any sagging muscles are toned through special chemical or electrical therapies. As for the face, the structure is made perfectly symmetrical and the eyes are made larger, the nose smaller, the lips fuller, the cheekbones higher. The teeth are extracted and replaced with bright white ceramic. Last but not least, every inch of skin is sanded off and a new skin is grafted on to replace it. All of these surgical procedures are based on what scientists believe is considered universally attractive to people in all walks of life. Everyone has this surgery; everyone. Anyone who refuses is an ugly-for-life; an outcast. (But nobody ever refuses. Who doesn’t want to be pretty?)

After the surgery, the new pretty moves from Uglyville—where uglies (which are children ages 12 through 16) live in dormitories and attend school without any parental supervision—to New Pretty Town. Instead of attending school, their vocation is to attend one party after another, to dance every night, set off fireworks, and just stand around being pretty. Once they reach a certain age, the new pretties have a second surgery and become “middle pretties” and move to Crumblyville, where they get married and have children, or “littlies”. The littlies are sent to live in Uglyville at the age of 12, and the cycle begins anew. After a third surgery, the middle pretties become “late pretties”, and once the late pretties have exhausted science’s options for life extension, they finally kick the bucket.

Our heroine, Tally, is a few months shy of her sixteenth birthday, and she’s x-ing off the days. She recently lost her childhood friend, Peris, when he had his operation and relocated to New Pretty Town. Although he said they’d be friends for life, he’s not shown much inclination to keep that promise. Who’d want to be friends with an ugly? They’re just too damn ugly. But, one night, when Tally sneaks into New Pretty Town to see Peris, he promises that they’ll be friends again when she becomes pretty. She’s bound and determined, now—she wants to be pretty so much she can taste it. But on that same night, she meets Shay, a girl who doesn’t want to be pretty. She defies logic, she defies tradition, and she defies biology by being content with her appearance. Rather, she values her individuality and imagination—something she fears will go bye-bye if she becomes a cookie-cutter pretty like Peris and other denizens of New Pretty Town. So, Shay does the unthinkable: she decides she won’t have the operation, and runs away. Now, the unnamed and unseen authority watching everything makes itself known in the form of Special Circumstances, a government agency responsible for quashing any resistance to the city’s regime. Special Circumstances gives Tally an ultimatum: she can either help them find Shay , or she will be an ugly-for-life herself. (DUN-DUN-DUN!!)

Uglies is technically a young adult novel, which is a term I don’t really like because of its negative connotations. “Young adult novel” connotes a book which has little or nothing worth thinking about, it’s just for fun, there’s no meat, there’s no real substance, and it’s written shiteously. At least, that is what someone with literati leanings might say about a young adult novel. Really, a young adult novel can be every bit as cerebral and as well-written as any adult novel; the only real difference between the two is the presentation. A young adult novel has larger text, more white space, and flashier cover art. I’m only about a quarter of the way through Uglies, but so far it is extremely weighty, dealing with the issues of individuality and body image in the onslaught of merciless beauty standards enabled by medical technology abuses and enforced by overbearing governments. Sounds sci-fi, but it’s our world on the other side of the mirror.

I found myself wishing I lived in a world where we’re transformed into pretties at the age of 16. And that’s sort of the point of this little exercise in exaggeration. Images of beauty infuse all media and become hardwired into our brains, until we look at each other and think, “God, she’s ugly.” But she’s not ugly; she’s normal. Only, she doesn’t match the preconceived notions of beauty that we just fucking can’t get out of our brains. We strive desperately to be like the beautiful people we see on TV and in magazines. We don’t shape our beauty standards; the beauty industry shapes us. Teen magazines like ElleGirl often attack the issue of body image, and they claim that a healthy, full figure wins their vote when readers call them out for featuring rail-thin waif-women in their fashion spreads. They continue publishing photos of stick girls because they don’t want their beauty image to reflect their readers; they want their readers to try to imitate the images in the magazine. It makes my brain cry real tears to admit it, but I still want to be like those magazine girls, even though I know it’s all a crock of shit. The only real difference between Uglies and the USA is that here, our fascist beauty standards aren’t actually enforced by law, but by popular culture, which often has the force of law when it comes to shaping our beliefs and behavior.

Uglies sets you up for a huge change in Tally’s take on life from the very beginning, because the writer knows that, despite being bred to starve ourselves and squeeze into skinny jeans, we’re also inoculated with the belief that inner beauty trumps outer beauty. We’re invited to believe ourselves superior to Tally because she mindlessly swallows the pretty regime, and we know instinctively that she’ll have to redeem herself somehow before it’s over. What was the point of her meeting Shay, what was the point of her being shown that she can choose to be whatever she wants regardless of what the regime says, if she’s just going to go ahead and do what she’d already intended to do from the start?

There are a few interesting things that struck me as I read, but I’ll talk about it later, because it’s past my bedtime.


Good night.