I grew up assuming that the whole point of accepting my white eyelashes and all the other aspects of the albinism package was to feel good about myself and thus to get by. Not too long ago, my perspective about the purpose of self-acceptance began to expand, helped in part by a very old story.
Once upon a time in ancient Persia, a greedy king who thought he was hot stuff decided he wanted another wife. He commanded his royal modeling agency to search throughout the land for the most beautiful woman.
She had to be exquisite. After all, he was the king, and he believed that everything around him had to look good so that people would see him as important and successful. Totally full of himself, he spared no expense for Look-At-Me parties to celebrate his grandeur. “If I’m the type of guy to pave the palace patio with rubies and sapphires,” he boasted with a loud burp as he hitched up the purple sash around his waist, “then of course my queen should fit into the bling!”
Meanwhile, a cheerful teenager who had been adopted as a baby was living a normal village girl’s life. Whenever she finished her daily lessons or chores, she would play outside with her siblings and the neighbor kids. She had never really thought much about her appearance (in fact, few people owned mirrors in those days), but she did suspect that she might be really pretty. Her dad sometimes whispered in her ear that she was more dazzling than the stars, and everyone in the village seemed to gaze admiringly at her and to listen attentively when she spoke.
One day, while she and her friends were munching pumpkin seeds on her dusty front steps, the king’s beauty agents marched down the street and summoned her to the castle. She had no choice. The king wanted to see whether she was pretty enough to accentuate his good looks. After tearfully hugging her family and saying goodbye, she climbed woefully into the king’s fancy ride.
For the next months, she lounged at the palace spa, languishing under warm mud baths, facial masks, and exfoliation treatments. Her hair soaked all day in perfumed conditioners. She worked out and followed the Persia’s Top Model diet plan, as her coaches instructed her. When the day arrived for her to meet the king, everything about her appearance was perfectly flawless.
She hoped that the king would send her back home, but with one look at her, he turned to jelly. “She’s the one!” he exclaimed. Like the people in the village, he gazed at her swooningly and listened attentively to every word.
As the king’s bride, the new queen enjoyed being admired for her beauty. Who wouldnt? But she wasn’t thrilled about the notion that her whole purpose was to make him look good. She had never been the makeup and pampering type, and all the attention, which seemed a bit silly, made her feel uncomfortably conspicuous. People stared at her all the time. “Surely there’s more to my life than trying to look and feel pretty,” she sighed.
One day, she heard about a terrible problem back at home that only the king could resolve. Unfortunately, the person causing all the trouble was the king’s best friend, and everyone was afraid to tell him about it. A bad report about his buddy might sound to him like vicious gossip. Who might be able to approach the tyrannical king without igniting his explosive temper?
Suddenly, the teen queen realized that she possessed the key resource that could help: her mesmerizing beauty. “Because he thinks I’m beautiful, maybe the king will join me for dinner and listen to me without getting angry,” she considered. She instructed her maids to bring out her best dress, and she ordered the cooks to prepare the king’s favorite dish.
Her risk paid off. She explained the problem to the king, and he savored her every word. Even before the last crumb of cake had disappeared from his lips that evening, he dispatched his servants to stop the crisis in the village far away, and thousands of lives were saved.
Back in her chamber, the queen realized that both she and the king had missed an important truth about beauty. The king believed that beauty was all about himself. The queen, in contrast, had overlooked the significance of her striking appearance as a tool for doing good.
I have come to believe that my acceptance of albinism has holy purpose beyond building my own self-esteem. As I see it, part of that purpose is influence. Because my appearance, perhaps like yours, is strikingly unique in the eyes of others (who are watching more intently than I would prefer at times), I’m aware that my words and actions have the potential to leave a lasting impression.
And I’m not alone. Many people know the rattling experience of feeling constantly conspicuous–people whose physical features, racial identification, cultural background, and circumstances make them stand out from the crowd. Difference can make a person feel like a misfit, especially when it carries painful social stigma in a particular environment.
If you’ve ever felt this way yourself, look outward and allow your uniqueness to influence others for good. Instead of withdrawing and hiding, rise above the tendency to be preoccupied with what people think of you. Like it or not, you’re on center-stage, so make it count. How can you use the spotlight to encourage someone today, to stand with the stigmatized, or to speak up with a message that can be hard to hear?
If that’s not you and you have never felt conspicuous, as I’ve described, how can you encourage people who do? Visitors to your church or newcomers to your workplace who somehow don’t match the majority crowd would appreciate a genuine welcome. And always remember that there’s a vast difference between the dignity of being seen and the awkwardness of being smothered or gawked at.
For all of us, embracing the unique packaging of our bodies and lives is a valuable process, but personal well-being is not the most important or compelling reason to commit to that socially complicated journey. I’ve found joy in learning to love my locks and lashes with a sense of holy purpose, and I hope that you will, too.
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