At a Washington press conference on Wednesday, Chen [Bingde] said: “During my office call on Secretary Clinton this morning, she told me — she reiterated the US policy; that is, there is only one China in the world and Taiwan is part of China.”
and
“The United States welcomes the recent improvement in cross-strait relations, opposes any unilateral actions by either side to alter the status quo, and believes that cross-strait issues should be resolved peacefully in a manner acceptable to the people on both sides of the Taiwan Strait,” the official added.
...
While the “clarification” seemed to go out of its way not to upset Chen, it also made clear — without directly saying it — that Clinton did not tell him that there was only “one China” in the world and that Taiwan was part of China.
OK...umm...
Does anyone else think that Chen was 100% clear on what Clinton said, and he made the first statement regardless? Does anyone else think that this is a not-so-subtle ploy by the PRC to start twisting around the language of what is said in meetings to more quickly get people to accept the idea that Taiwan is a part of China? Does anyone else believe that Chen knew exactly what he was doing and will get praise for it back home? I don't believe for a second that this was a misunderstanding or miscommunication - I honestly believe that Chen deliberately skewed Clinton's words to his and the PRC's advantage, betting on the "you can't unhear something" principle? Just as a witness whose testimony is stricken by a judge has still said what she said, and the jury can pretend to disregard it but really, they can't unhear what they've heard? Like that.
Saying that this was some sort of backdoor deal, and that Air China knew exactly what it was doing by creating confusion about what is a domestic and what is an international airline, sounds more conspiracy theorist, and I don't deal in conspiracy theories.
But still.
For as much criticism as this has garnered, you can't undo a first impression, and impressions like the are what drive many people abroad who are not cognizant of the Taiwan-China political situation to believe that they are one and the same. It creates an impression in the mind. It makes implications that can't be un-implied. While I don't deal in conspiracy theories, I have to ask - was this done on purpose?
I was excited about reading and reviewing this book once I heard about its launch in May (no, I was not paid for this review) – I enjoyed reading it and considering throughout how it might be of use to those who read this blog and expat women generally.
The pink cover and whimsical title font of Expat Women: Confessions might lead you to believe it’s written along the lines of a bubblegum girlie book – you know, like the Shopaholic series (I’ve never actually read one, mind you).
It’s not.
The format is Question-and-Answer, and inspired by the Confessions column featured on the site from which the book originated. The issues discussed are not bubblegum in any way – they’re the tough, rarely aired in public issues that many women feel nervous about discussing in the insular expat communities one finds in most countries. I wouldn’t call myself “connected” to either end of the expat spectrum in Taiwan but even I know how quickly gossip spreads in these communities.
Expat Women: Confessions never really clarifies if the questions are fictitious, “inspired by” or real, or whether they are unique to the book or culled from the popular column. My guess, given the range of issues and different voices of those asking, that they are at least based on real, submitted questions, with some details changed to protect submitters’ anonymity. Edited to add: reading other blogger reviews of this book, it is clarified that these are real questions from real women living abroad, and are taken from the eponymous column on the Expat Women website.
The questions themselves – which range from adjustment issues to affairs and infidelity and abuse abroad to medical issues abroad to substance abuse to job loss and repatriation – are answered brilliantly (for the most part – I’ll discuss the answers I disagree with below) and in such a way that the specific question is not only addressed, but the answer also has broader appeal to those dealing with similar situations who might see a little of themselves in some of the queries. The questions are categorized into chapters: Settling In, Careers and Money, Raising Children, Relationships, Repatriation etc.. Each chapter has a few questions that (I assume) were selected as they would be likely to have broader appeal and be a basis for advice - questions on topics such as a husband asking his trailing spouse wife for a divorce while abroad, a woman who reacted to her husband's high-travel role and contract extension in Bangkok with an affair, issues children who grew up abroad face especially when moving "home" (wherever that is), alcohol abuse abroad, reverse culture shock after twelve years in Mumbai, long work hours in Taiwan, and someone whose friend has admitted that she is physically abused by her husband. There are many more, but these are some of the questions that caught my eye.
I do believe this format is one of the book’s strengths. It is also written in a strong, clear voice, the writers have empathy but also detached common sense for all of the expat women whose issues they tackle, and the tougher questions are clearly fielded by a pro.
For these reasons, I would recommend that any woman living as an expatriate buy and read this book. I would say overall that my reaction was quite positive.
That said, you guys know me. I wear my cynicism on my sleeve. I never think anything is perfect and I over-analyze everything. Here are some things I didn’t like – keeping in mind that these issues are minor and my overall “thumbs up” still stands:
Marketing Demographic –
Here’s the thing about me: I don’t fit in to any one particular expat circle. I would say overall that I am not connected to either spectrum of the expat community – I’m too young for the cram school teachers and most students at the language centers and too young, hippie-ish and critical of the business world (even though I work in it!) for the older folks who are here on company assignments. I have my assortment of expat friends of different backgrounds and a bevy of local friends. I don’t say this with much pride: I don’t feel that having a lot of local friends and being connected to the expat community are mutually exclusive. I am not one of those “I am better than you because my friends are local” types. Those people annoy me too. It’s just how I am – I’ve always had “assortments of friends” rather than a “community”.
As such, it was immediately clear to me who this book is marketed at – not all expat women are identical, and they chose to go for the women sent abroad for business or “trailing spouses” – women living abroad due to their husband’s overseas assignment. If I had to narrow it down further, I’d say it’s mostly aimed at those women living abroad as trailing spouses, as the authors admit several times that most overseas assignments go to men, and that more often than not the “trailing spouse” is the wife.
In that sense, the book didn’t entirely apply to me, although I found a few of the questions and answers interesting and relevant - there was a question about loneliness and making friends that resonated with me, and as someone whose entire relationship-now-marriage has taken place in Taiwan, the section on relationships was interesting.
There are a lot of asides about contract negotiations, what your company is giving you as a package, whether or not you have a company car and corporate culture abroad. A lot of the discussions center around family and children abroad, something I have no experience in. I'm not saying that to criticize - plenty of women abroad do have those issues and it's worth it to bring them up. I mention it as supporting evidence that the book is marketed to a demographic that I don't belong to. There's nothing wrong with that, of course!
I came here, taught kids for a year, took a few classes at Shi-da, got fed up, quit to study on my own, and started focusing more on my job as a corporate trainer. I moved abroad alone and my now-husband moved here later. There was no “package”, there were no contracts to review. I was in my twenties and made it happen for myself. I would have liked to see more advice aimed at women who did not come over on a corporate contract or as the spouse of someone who did, and more references to and advice for women who would raise their eyebrows at the idea of a company car or relocation package – women like me. I realize that books need to be marketed to a demographic, but as an expat woman who moved abroad independently, I’d like to see more advice for my demographic.
That said, this blog has no such target demographic. I would suppose that many of my readers are younger and I hope at least half, if not more, are female (as I do focus on women’s issues as much as I can). If there are any women in Taiwan sent by their company or trailing spouses reading, this book would be of greater use to them.
I guess, I felt that the book targeted women older than me (although not all women abroad due to a work assignment are older), with a different lifestyle, different reasons for being abroad, and more of an interest in meeting other expats than spending time with locals (questions about friends tended towards friendships with other expats and less was said on local friendships, which is a very complex issue). I feel as though it was written for the women I see in Tianmu, the ones in their mid-thirties to fifties, with a kid or two trailing behind, whom you'll meet if you attend an event at the American or European schools. That's great - and I have nothing against those women or a book for them - but they don't represent me.
A dearth of discussion on issues of sexism in expat life -
I would have also liked to see more of a discussion on the reasons why more “trailing spouses” are women and more people sent abroad for work are men, rather than a blanket acceptance of this inequality. It is addressed, but only in a few sentences. I would like to see someone really pick this apart. As someone who has never been sent abroad by a company, I’m not sure I’m the person to do that (though if nobody does, I sure will give it a go).
There was also a discussion of sexism in the workplace, which while valuable, I felt didn’t delve deeply enough into this issue – an issue that I do feel is the catalyst for many women abroad to pack up and move home. The sexism can be psychologically difficult to deal with both at work and in the every day life as an expat woman, and yet it was only just glanced over. I feel an entire chapter could be dedicated to this issue alone. If we discussed it more, perhaps we could come up with a canon of solid advice that could help struggling women feel better about life abroad, handle the sexism issues they face, and perhaps fewer would end up going home for this reason.
Workplace realities -
There are a few other areas where I would not give the same advice as the book – one questioner wrote in from Taiwan, where the long working hours were killing her. The advice was to scale back her hours to something more reasonable, and if it was reasonable, the company and her colleagues would accept it. I do feel that this is inaccurate: a deeper knowledge of Taiwanese – or even East Asian – work culture would reveal that this is in fact not always (or even usually) possible. “Reasonable” work hours are different here – locals regularly work ten or even twelve hour days – and a more appropriate answer would have acknowledged this fact, and the expectations that come with it. Scaling back to a more reasonable schedule, such as eight or nine hours, would not be respected.
This is, by the way, one reason why I am so cynical of the business world in general, and business in Asia specifically.
The realities of resources -
Finally, there were many calls to visit a “life coach” or talk to a counselor or therapist. While this is admirable advice for several of the issues for which it was mentioned, the reality surrounding language issues and taboos about psychological problems and their treatment abroad was not discussed – the entire issue of therapy abroad was treated as it would be in the USA. That is, as a service readily available and while still stigmatized to a certain extent, not as frowned-upon as it is in many foreign countries.
Take Taiwan for example – good luck finding a talk therapist here (although one resource was posted in the comments - thanks Catherine!). A psychiatrist would be easy (through work, I actually know two who speak excellent English, although one is currently a clinical researcher and the other specializes in rehabilitation, so not much use for someone with psychiatric issues that are not related to brain injury), but a therapist? Who speaks English well enough to help you through complex issues? Good luck with that. There are Chinese-language resources – many churches offer counseling (but most will assume you are Christian or put a Christian bent on their advice, which is fine if you are Christian, but if you’re not it may not work for you) and therapists do exist, but generally speaking the stigma surrounding depression or other psychological issues is so great here that you are not likely to get far in your search (if I ever do find a licensed talk therapist who speaks good English, I will post a reference. I don’t need therapy so I haven’t exactly been looking). Life coaches abound, but you have to speak Chinese to avail yourself of most of them.
I did briefly search for premarital counselors at one point – we had no issues, but it’s better to do a spot check when things are great to make sure your foundation is solid, right? – and found quite little (although a Google search does turn up some leads – most of them religiously affiliated, which I didn’t want).
Conclusion –
Despite everything above, I do think this book is worth reading for any woman abroad. Even if you dismiss everything about contracts, children and spouses and you take advice about therapy and work hours with a grain of salt, there’s a lot of good stuff in here. Chances are that you’ll see a little bit of yourself in some of the questions, and even if you don’t, it doesn’t hurt to be mentally prepared for issues you might face.
We live here. No fake Greek statues, parking space with a Cefiro or colored marble in sight.
Recently, I had a conversation with a friend about real estate, rent prices and location (yes, it was actually an interesting conversation). As is common in Taiwan, he asked me how much our rent was, and since I don’t mind sharing, I told him. It’s no secret that our apartment is dirt cheap, and honestly looks the part – though I think we’ve painted, decorated and maintained it very well, so it is more reminiscent of a funky pseudo-industrial bohemian hideout (think “Rent”) than a true downmarket ghetto pad.
We live a one-minute walk from the MRT, though, and a two-minute walk from a large night market, so you can’t beat that.
Oddly, though, I found myself quickly adding “…we prefer to spend our money traveling!” as though I somehow had to defend myself and my cheap apartment.
I wasn’t lying – every year we take at least one vacation that is usually six weeks long. This year we’re taking an eight-week vacation but nothing else (in previous years we’ve done quick getaways to Hong Kong or the Philippines in addition to our longer travels). I don’t know many – scratch that, I don’t know any – Taiwanese people who do that, although I do hope they exist.
It is absolutely true that rent and mortgage rates are correlated to salary much as it is in the rest of the world, and people will judge how much you make based on how much you spent on your living quarters. Interestingly, this doesn’t seem to be as true in China and Korea, where people who make more will seek out nicer accommodation, but generally speaking will prioritize more visible markers of prosperity such as a luxury car or the new It Bag.
As an expat who inhabits a murky realm between younger travelers who usually come to teach in cram schools or study (heck, that was me not so long ago) and older ones who have either stayed on or who have come on a company package, I feel as though I don’t fit into either group – and my social circle starkly reflects this.
I do feel that when trying to “place” me and draw up a set of semi-assumed likelihoods about my life, most people I come into contact with place me in the latter group – closer to the older, business-oriented expats (probably precisely because that’s the locally correlated group of people I teach here, so that’s who I have the most contact with). I’m not sure how true it is, but it does seem to be how I am mentally categorized by new acquaintances.
As such, I feel there is an expectation that our lifestyle also fit that mold. Nobody expects us to have an office car and driver (do any expats in Taiwan actually have that anymore?) or even to own an apartment – although I am constantly asked “do you rent or own?” and when I say “rent”, I’m asked if I ever plan to buy real estate in Taiwan (probably not). I’m talking more about the lifestyle accoutrements you’d normally find among white collar professionals. I have, however, seen surprise on people’s faces when I admit how low our rent is (“we prefer to spend our money traveling!”), or that neither of us owns a smartphone or an iPad, or that we not only don’t have a car, but neither of us owns a scooter and I often ride my bike to work when not taking the bus or MRT. I encountered surprise when I admitted we don’t have a dryer (“but you can get one for just NT$10,000!”) and that our hot water is still from an old-style heater hooked up to a gas tank, as is our stove. Most of our friends live similar lifestyles – that’s usually the way, isn’t it – but most of my acquaintances, especially through work, do have all of the things listed above, and probably have newer, nicer apartments, too. Think of it this way:
Me: “I love your scarf! Where did you get it?”
Student: “Thanks! I got it at SOGO. I like yours, too. Where did you get it?”
Me: “Erm, the night market.”
Student: “Oh. Well, it’s nice.”
My students, typically, do not prioritize their finances as we do (not that I ask – that’d be rude even though I am asked all the time) and it does come as a shock that we don’t drive and we don’t live in anything like those curlicue-gated and marble-bedecked new apartment buildings dotting Taipei, or that we get our gas the old fashioned way.
Honestly, if you were to see our apartment and lifestyle you’d think we make a lot less money than we do (more akin to a cram school teacher), and while only one former student has ever been in our apartment (three if you include some former students from my year at Kojen, but I haven’t worked there in half a decade so I don’t really count that), I do wonder how often the things I do say about our life cause acquaintances to extrapolate what our salary likely is – and by doing that and leaving out all the travel, they’d probably come up with a number that’d be shameful in the corporate world for anyone above the level of a secretary.
I don’t doubt that this happens, actually, considering the nosiness about others’ affairs here. I’m not ashamed of the differences in expectation and reality (although I have been thinking recently about whether/how to either make our place nicer or move), but it does make me wonder.I do like to think that people have better things to do with their time, but I can’t deny experiencing this kind of nosiness among neighbors and being asked frequently how much we pay in rent. I do wonder what is expected as an answer as an expat whose acquaintances are mostly upper middle class Taiwanese. I wonder what they extrapolate from that. I wonder what they think when I don’t meet that criteria.
I do have to say that while most of the reasons why we diverge from lifestyle expectations revolve around spending priorities (“we prefer to spend our money on travel!”), part of it is also taste. There are more expensive, nicer apartments available but when you get into the “accommodation to reflect a high income” you start to dive into marble, faux gilt, crystal chandelier, hideous upholstery, faux “Greek” statuary and wrought-iron The wrought-iron is OK. The rest – no. As one friend put it, a lot of what is considered “high class” in Taiwan is sadly reminiscent of this: Opulence. I Has It!
There are other options, of course, but I did feel it was important to note this undercurrent in “taste” in Taiwan and how insidious it is – and how, like owning a Cefiro or shopping at Bellavita (or even Shinkong Mitsukoshi), I am simply not interested (although, I admit it, I have been known to buy things at Shinkong Mitsukoshi. Rarely. But it happens).
I do like to think that if I am judged for that, that I am judged well, and I do tend to get along very well with students generally. I have a very high opinion of them as a whole. If I were judged harshly, it would genuinely bother me if I were to find out.
You don't even want to know what work is like right now...not in a bad way - with our Turkey trip looming I'm happy to be rakin' in the sweet blue bills - but in a "I am so tired and life is so hectic, I don't even have time to go to the bank let alone write a real blog post" way. Maybe tomorrow. I'm off at six and intend to spend the evening doing sweet nothing. At Zabu. Eating good food and drinking expensive beer. Because I've earned it.
In the meantime, here are two links worth reading through, if you missed them:
Go check out Page 190 of the Michelin Travel Guide to Taiwan - that's my photo!
I'm all excited about it because I'm very much an amateur photography enthusiast (it would be a lie to say I'm a "photographer") and this is my first published photo. It's not my first published creative work, but it's my first published work of visual art, and that's cool.
Makeup-free and in New York just before our honeymoon in September 2010
The fact that not wearing makeup is socially acceptable.
Don't get me wrong, I've always been a bit ornery about doing up my appearance to the point that it is generally expected of women (I don't mean I'm gross or unclean - I'm talking about things like hair, makeup, diet for the sake of being thin and adherence to fashion trends). It's just that in Taipei, I feel as though people simply don't notice that I'm not wearing makeup and didn't bother much with my hair...or if they do notice - maybe they do, and they're just too polite to let it show - I get a "pass" because there are plenty of women here who similarly can't be bothered.
I also should admit here that there are two semi-related reasons why I don't wear makeup often, and when I do it's because I want to: the first is purely comfort and health. Makeup, even the light-as-air mineral makeup, feels cakey after an hour or so if you have skin as oily as mine. Blotters don't help. In Taipei and DC, two cities renowned for their humidity, the effect is magnified. I can't do anything, like splash water on my face or rub my eyes, without messing up my makeup. I can't eat or drink anything without messing up lipstick and having to re-apply (even if it's the "long lasting" stuff, which totally does not work.) It just feels uncomfortable. The second is a feminist reason - nobody cares if a man has a zit showing, so why the brouhaha if I do? "Because women are judged more on their looks" is true, but not an acceptable reason. I don't feel the need to conform to a social expectation that I highlight my most feminine features - my eyes and lips - disguise imperfections that the male gender openly displays and generally make myself uncomfortable. I feel women should be treated equally to men, and this should also be true where makeup is concerned. I don't mean makeup should be banished, but rather that it should not be expected (by the way, I do know men who wear makeup and no, it doesn't bother me).
It's this idea that all women wear makeup, or that makeup is required to look professional - why only for women, then? Are our natural faces not acceptable professionally? Why? - or the feeling that because makeup is so common that not wearing it is making a statement...that bothers me back home, and I love that in Taipei it's not really an issue.
It's true that you'll see a lot of fashion-conscious primpage in Xinyi and even Ximending (and to a lesser extent in Gongguan and Shida) and plenty of girls in tight jeans, fake lashes and highlighted bangs on the MRT, but after attending GWU and living in Washington, DC, this subset of done-up women in Taipei seems like just that - a subset, not the basis for a full-on expectation.
I know a lot of people will say "but DC isn't fashionable! All those lobbyists, politicians and policy wonks are hopelessly dorky!" and that is quite true...but that wasn't my circle (I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing). Think young office drones swathed in MAC and Banana Republic - no hate on MAC, I love their stuff even if I rarely wear it - staffing the political offices as well-connected twentysomethings, working in law firms or driving out to the 'burbs to work in the high tech firms in northern Virginia - the ones who rented condos in Ballston and swarmed DC on Saturday nights. They were done up and I was...not. It wasn't the same kind of done up - no whitening cream or fake eyelashes to be found - but it was still a sparkly powdered, eyelined palace of feminine peacockery (the men all dressed the same).
Here, I hop on the bus or MRT and sure, there'll be the Super Fashion Girl with her toffee hair and stiltlike heels, but I can always spot another woman, even one my age (although I admit I'm totally an obasan-in-training) wearing comfortable flats, minimal or no makeup and neatly brushed but not overly styled hair.
So I could lay my social pass to not wear makeup at the feet of being foreign - "she's foreign, they're weird anyway so it's OK" - but I won't, because plenty of local women follow the same path.
I didn't wear makeup daily even when everyone else around me did, and I was fine with it, but I have to admit I enjoy being able to go out with a freshly scrubbed face and not be the only one.
The proverb comes at me from unexpected places.It’s a bit cliché, and certainly old-fashioned, to say it straight, but it worms its way out in other phrases. I might hear it straight up from older women, or referenced behind a veil of translucent compliments from younger ones. It never fails to bother me. It’s一白遮三醜 。
Literally translated, it means “one white hides three uglies”, or “if you have white skin, it will make up for three flaws” or, more bluntly, “white is beautiful”.
I usually hear it sneaking around behind a phrase rather than being said outright:
“Your skin is so pretty! I wish I had such white skin!”
“Why did you dye your beautiful golden hair red? You shouldn’t dye hair like that!”
“Your skin is so perfect!”
“White skin and blue eyes, oh!”
“I use all sorts of things to get my skin that color, and you have it naturally. It’s not fair!”
“If I had white skin and blue eyes, I’d have such a handsome husband too.”
Occasionally, a blunt-minded obasan will say it outright – “you are pretty, because one white hides three uglies!” (Uhhhh, thanks?)
I find this amusing and perturbing, because first of all, my skin is far from perfect. At 30, I still get acne to the point where I see a dermatologist. I can’t imagine many women want that, white skin or no. I have uneven tone and get undereye circles and redness around the nose. It’s not smooth at all. I have to get threaded every few weeks thanks to my Armenian genes. My hair is not naturally gold, it’s dishwater brown. Nothing spectacular.
Me, but it's a better than average photo of me, and I'm wearing makeup. Trust me, between the craters, blackheads, oil and zits, my skin is not all that.
The "...I'd have a handsome husband too!" line really gets me. I don't even know where to begin with this - the idea that good looks are the end all and be all, or that a good man is only attracted to beauty (of course physical appearance is a factor, but I find that chemistry has a lot more to do with the type of attraction that develops into real love), or that I am somehow deserving of this good-looking husband - and he is quite good-looking, thanks - because I'm white. That's just not OK.
It also unsettles me from a perspective of race – aren’t we beyond all that? Do we still not live in a world where all complexions can be beautiful? I don’t know about the women who made the comments above, but I live in that world and intend to continue doing so. To hear on numerous occasions that my features are to be envied not for their fineness but for their whiteness echoes just a little too much of “white is right” sentiment, even though the payers of these compliments are certainly not thinking that, at least not consciously. I can’t believe that those who pay such compliments really do have some deep-seated desire to look “more white”, but it’s hard to ignore – between whitening cream at Cosmed, whitening masks hawked on TV, the increasing popularity of freckle-removing laser procedures, the predilection for carrying umbrellas outside to shield oneself from the darkening effects of the sun and Jolin’s Butterfly cover last year in which she dons a sunset red wig, blue contacts (which are not too far from my natural eye color, thank you very much), has something done to her eyes on the computer to round them out and all-around makes herself look like some freakish semblance of Asian-trying-to-be-Caucasian, it’s hard not to wonder.
An album cover featuring Jolin - rather than "beautiful", I see this as being a bit freakish. Unnatural. Who is she trying to be?
So when I find myself in this situation, shifting uncomfortably, wondering “really? Did they see my giant zit? I can’t believe my white hides that ugly!” I generally reply “Why? Your skin is beautiful too. In fact, I wish mine was clearer, and I never tan. I always turn red.”
“But who wants to tan?”
“Well…it’s not healthy, but I’d rather tan than burn.”
“Just use an umbrella outside!”
“No…no…that’s…no.”
“Why not? You’ll stay so beautiful and white!”
“I just don’t think it’s that important to be white.”
There’s rarely a good answer to this – I wonder if the awkward silence that follows is the woman who’s just ravished praise upon my skin rethinking her position, or thinking I’m crazy, or thinking I can’t possibly be right, or just uncomfortable?
Should I have just said thank you, despite my own discomfort, and been done with it?
Sometimes joking works better – “美國人覺得一黑遮三醜呵！”
(“Americans think darker skin is attractive” – or exactly translated, “Americans think one black hides three uglies”, but it doesn’t mean black in exactly that sense).
“No no no, it’s white! One white hides three uglies!”
“No, seriously, that’s not how we see it. I’m not kidding!”
“Haha, you’re so funny! But really, in Taiwan we think it’s one white.”
“I know. I wish it was different, though.”
And yes, it bothers me. I don’t want to be put on some pedestal of beauty I don’t deserve – I’m straight-up average looking and happy with that. I don’t want to be admired for being white; that really bothers me. I don’t want being white to hide the extra pounds I’d rather not be carrying around or the zits that I wish would just stop already.
I want to see whitening creams be a thing of the past, and for women to be proud of their own gorgeous color. I want things like the Butterfly cover to be chuckled at, not emulated. I want women to realize that it’s not healthy to put bleach on your skin, and to realize that round eyes and fair skin are not the end-all and be-all of beauty.
I realize that plenty of women do realize this, and yet the comments keep coming. I really wish they’d stop.
