I woke up and realized I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m pretty.
If I’m pretty it’s because my genes happened to align in a way that is aesthetically pleasing.

That’s it.

I couldn’t control it, and neither could anyone else,
and I’m not sure if pretty is really what I want.

Because here’s the thing;
Being pretty doesn’t get you anything you need.

Pretty gets you catcalls in the streets as walk past, wishing your earbuds were louder or wishing you were louder, loud enough to tell them that it is not a compliment. Not when said like that.

Pretty makes that guy lean just a little closer while he talks; he never notices the way you lean back as if to flee every time he moves nearer, but then again, they never notice.

Pretty makes you watch your drink carefully, watch how much you drink carefully, watch that boy in the corner who’s been inching closer and closer all night very, very carefully.

Pretty is what forces you to nervously pull down the skirt you loved so much when you left your house this evening, back before it seemed too short, a signal to others that you want things,

Pretty is the reason you’re so confused, you didn’t know it was shameful to want, and you didn’t know it was bad to be wanted, but you are and not in the right way

You’re wanted and it makes you sick everytime his eyes drift lower,
And you regret wearing the short skirt, the low top, because
If worse comes to worse, you must’ve deserved it for wearing those clothes,
Clothes you loved because you looked good, you just wanted to look good.

That’s why there are rules for girls, especially pretty girls.
ever go to the bathroom alone.
Carry pepper spray.
Tell them you have a boyfriend, that’ll make them back off.
Don’t dress like that or act like that, they can’t resist.
When you are walking to your car hold your keys between your fingers, just in case.
If anything does happen, fight, and scream, and cause a scene.

Those responsibilities are part of being a girl, a female, a woman, and we are all so pretty.

I do not wake up in the morning and think “today, I want to be pretty”.
I wake up and I want to be loved.
I wake up and I want others to feel loved.
I wake up, and I pray that I stay safe and that others,

The pretty, broken girls, will find ways to be whole again

Words From The Author
Ashley Alford

I wrote this out of anger. There are so many news stories lately about these poor women who are attacked and blamed for their clothing or choices. I am so so tired of women being judged for their appearances. I do not believe being attractive is the most important thing we can have to offer the world, but it is what we seem to be praised for the most. It is also used negatively. If is girl is deemed attractive, then she has to be careful with what she says or does. All girls have to be careful with what we say or do, and I am angry about it. We are more than just our outward appearance, we are smart and kind and generous, and deserve to be seen as people, not objects.

Revision Decision

I decided to use repetition in this In the beginning, there was none, and it didn’t seem to flow as well as I would’ve liked. I also decided to include the “rules” women have to know because they’re ingrained into us from such a young age that I thought they were important to include.