The Awakening of Sleeping Beauty: Tragedy, Humanity… and Lipstick

How women of war-torn lands — and lipstick — helped a feminist reclaim the beautiful pieces of herself

—

I did not grow up thinking I was beautiful. My Iraqi mother had fed this belief, telling me that my cousin Nadia was much better looking than I was. Whenever she came to visit and we were all invited out somewhere, my mother would insist that I give Nadia my best clothes to wear. At ten years of age, I finally protested. “Why did you give Nadia my orange shirt, Mama? You know it’s my favorite.”

“But honey,” my mother responded. “Nadia is the beautiful one.” It was as if beauty itself was reason enough.

My mother didn’t think of me as ugly, just not as beautiful as other girls.

But the judgment stayed with me. As I