Picture this: it’s the night of your 6th grade dance, and you’ve been counting down the days for weeks. You’ve never been to a school dance before, so you have no real idea what to expect. It doesn’t matter that it’s just “Neon Night.” It’s your first dance, and that means you have to look the part.
Usually, I’m in sweats and a T-shirt, hair thrown up, face bare. But for this, that wouldn’t do. I needed help. So, I turned to my aunt. She was thrilled and immediately went all out: makeup, a dress, heels, boy talk—the whole nine yards. After what felt like hours straightening my hair and applying makeup, I was finally declared “ready.” I wore a medium-length gray dress (yes, I completely missed the neon memo), and shoes so uncomfortable I still remember the pain. My face was decked out with black eyeliner and mascara, some lip gloss, foundation, and concealer.
I looked like a totally different person.
Unfortunately, one of my classmates agreed—just not in the way I’d hoped.
Quick backstory: I’m a fraternal twin. It’s always been a part of my identity. Some people don’t even remember my name; they just know me as “Steve’s sister.” And sure, when we were younger, the resemblance was obvious. But we’re brother and sister, not identical. That has to count for something… right?
Apparently not.
When I walked into the cafeteria that night, all eyes were suddenly on me. As an introvert, I immediately wanted to ditch the heels and run for the exit. But I pushed through, looking for my friends. That’s when a “popular” classmate spotted me, stared for a second, and said, “You don’t look like your brother anymore.”
Their whole table laughed. I laughed too, because what else do you do? But inside, I froze. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Because I wore makeup, I no longer looked like… a guy?
That moment stuck with me. It was the first time I realized that for girls, makeup isn’t just fun—it’s expected. It’s how you’re told to look “right.” That night, I learned the unspoken rule: to be seen as feminine, to be taken seriously, to not look like “Steve’s sister,” I was “supposed” to wear makeup.
Needless to say, I didn’t fit the picture.
