Authentically Flawed

On a semi-regular basis, I hear some iteration of “you look angry”. You look upset. You look mad. Are you okay? Smile! 

I hate being told to smile. While I appreciate the sentiment, and I know people are well-intentioned when they say it, there are things I wish people understood. 1. I’m an introvert and painfully shy. I mask this pretty well by being sarcastic and joking around with people, but more often than not, I am incredibly uncomfortable around new people, and/or large groups of people. I also have a bad case of Resting Bitch Face, so social anxiety and shyness read on my face as anger, apparently. 2. I spent a good number of years hating my smile because when I was in my early teenage years, my father looked at a picture of me and said my smile was weird and made my face look crooked. It probably was just the angle of that particular photo, but in my developing perfectionism disorder, I took that to mean my smile was terrible, so I didn’t smile in photos for several years. 3. I often have a lot on my mind, and I’m trying to process it before I blurt out something completely inappropriate. This sometimes takes a lot of restraint and while I can usually hold my tongue, my face will always betray me. It says “you’re a dumb ass and I want to slap you” before I’ve had time to fully formulate that thought in my mind.

This recently came to a head a work, and I decided that I needed to (at least try to) do something about it. Hope you enjoy my journey!

What Happened

I was invited, last minute, to a meeting and advised I would just be there in case anyone had questions about the data related to one of my projects. No problem, happy to help. The first 50 minutes of the hour-long meeting were in Spanish, as I was the only non-Spanish speaking person in attendance. When it came time to discuss my project, one of the local leaders launched into a discussion (in English), about how, while I could deploy the technology, there were several things I didn’t understand about local processes, and therefore the local team needed to be engaged. They do need to be engaged, so I appreciated the support; however, the conversation came across as “Alexis doesn’t know how to do this, Alexis doesn’t know this process, Alexis can’t do this task, etc., etc.” Very uncomfortable, as I was sitting right in front of him. The meeting adjourned and I left. The next day, two people approached me to ask if I was okay, because I seemed angry after the meeting. I agreed to disagree with one of them, and told him I wasn’t angry, I was just uncomfortable as I hadn’t been allowed to share any of the detail on the project, as was originally my only purpose for attending. Another gal approached me, and was far more critical. She said I looked like I was angry, didn’t care, and that if I didn’t believe her, I should take a mirror to meetings with me.

I resisted the urge to throat punch her and decided to talk this over with some of my closest work confidants over street tacos. The conversation was lively, and spanned several months of comments from various folks at the factory. One observation I had was that the staff there was nicer to me when I wore my hair straight than when I wear it (naturally) curly. One of my coworkers’ responses to this was “yeah, cause you look White”. I believe he was joking, but as Eminem taught us “a lot of truth is said in jest”, so I thought about this some more. I started discussing the ladies that didn’t seem to get the you look angry feedback, and they all had the same thing in common: they were traditionally ‘feminine’. Heels, makeup, dressed up. Since I work in a factory, I normally wear what’s comfortable and practical for the environment; jeans, t-shirts, tennis shoes. I jokingly said I would start dressing up but as we were laughing, I was formulating a plan…

What I Did

I decided I needed some sort of experiment to see if people would react differently to me if I looked “softer”. Short of Botox, there’s not much I can do about what my face looks like when I’m relaxed; however, I did decide that I could get eyelash extensions to give me that awake, alert and hopefully, approachable look. One of the ladies I work with and have tremendous respect for has big, beautiful green eyes and I always notice her lashes so I thought this was a good first step. I found a reputable lash studio in Austin, and they were kind enough to schedule me a last-minute appointment. Armed with my new look, I packed: two skirts, a few button down shirts, a blazer, two pairs of slacks, heels and my best makeup. It took me three times as long to pack as it normally does. I told myself it would be worth it to see folks’ reactions.

The experiment started on Monday at the airport. I have TSA pre-check so I never take my shoes off in Security, however, the heels I chose had metal buckles on them so they set off the alarm. Not a great start, considering I allow myself exactly enough time to get through security before I’m supposed to board but I made it. I quickly learned that heels and the slick airport floors are not a good combination, and determined not to break an ankle on Day 1, I walked gingerly to my gate. I had an equally difficult time at Dallas Ft. Worth International Airport, where I had to change terminals to catch my connecting flight, but ultimately arrived at my destination with both ankles in tact. I only saw a few people that first day, but the reactions were telling for how the week would play out. I saw one of the Directors at the airport and he said “where are YOU going??”, and then laughed. One of the guys on my team looked me up and down, and asked if I had a hot date; I told him no, and he replied that I would by the end of the day.  That made me laugh.

Tuesday, I went for the blazer. I got a mix of comments, mostly saying that I looked nice. A couple of folks asked why I was so dressed up, and I told them the truth. They seemed very interested in the outcome of my “research”, especially my female coworkers. It was a largely uneventful day, but I definitely noticed that people were more likely than usual to stop and have a conversation with me.

Wednesday was the money-maker. I wore a slim-fit, calf-length skirt and a nice blouse. You’d swear someone famous had just walked in. Men held the door open for me, and let me walk in ahead of them (I think they were trying to get a glimpse of my backside – joke’s on you fellas, most of my assets are best viewed from the front – ha!). The same gentleman that told me the week before that I looked angry in our meeting came running after me in the hallway.

“Alexis!”

“Hey, [insert employee’s name here]. What’s up?”

“Where are you going?”

“Downstairs…why?”

“Oh, I just wanted to say uh, you seem…uh…”

Me laughing. “Is everything okay??”

“Oh, yeah. Uh, I just wanted to say, uh…you look nice”

Not wanting to embarrass him, I said thank you, and giggled to myself as I waited for the elevator. This is someone I’ve had a number of tense conversations with, and we usually give each other a cursory “hola” in the hallway and keep it moving. This was a very entertaining moment for me. I later saw one of my favorite Directors and explained to him what I was up to. He said he’d noticed but given the HR sensitivity these days, hadn’t wanted to say anything. This to me was a huge indicator of the difference between employee relations in the United States and Mexico.

Thursday was an interesting day. I wore slacks and another blouse, and the first observation people had was “oh, you dressed down today.” For f*ck’s sake; I’m not sure

in what world wearing slacks and heels means you’re dressed down but I chalked it up to men not knowing how much effort it takes to put on make up and do your hair. Speaking of hair, for added fun, I brushed my curls out and pulled my hair up into a high ponytail. One of the young ladies I work with came over to me and started playing with it: “what is THIS??, your hair looks different, it’s cute!” Blessings. The Director I had confided in saw me and told me “your experiment is working! Someone said ‘Alexis has stepped her game up!’ and asked me if you had an interview”. I found that an interesting assumption. It was my last day in the factory and I was feeling pretty good about how the week had gone. My green-eyed mentor came over and high-fived me, telling me I looked nice. Validation.

Friday was my normal 3:15 am wake up call for my 6 am flight. Normally, I’d roll out of bed into my yoga pants and a hoodie so I could get a couple hours’ sleep on the plane ride home, but to fully complete the week, I showered, did some (light) make up and put on jeans and a button down top. I couldn’t do another airport run in heels though, so I wore the only a pair of sneakers that I packed – what sweet relief for my feet and ankles. The journey to and through the airport was uneventful, though I wasn’t really expecting anything Earth shattering to happen.

What I Learned

I have a few key takeaways from my week playing dress up.

1. Lashes work. I discovered that Bambi lashes and Resting Bitch Face are mutually exclusive facial conditions. Where I’d normally look angry just sitting reading my email, I found that I had to work to look mad with my lashes. Not that it’s impossible, as I did have one encounter where a coworker told me I looked like I wanted to kill him, so Bambi lashes aside, I can still give a mean side-eye. Additionally, my make up application takes significantly less time since I don’t have to mess around with mascara and eye liner. Winning all around there, and I’d highly recommend it. If you’re in Austin, definitely check out Dolce Blu at The Domain. They are amazing!
2. While I did observe that people responded differently to me (opening doors, initiating conversation, being generally ‘warmer’), I have to admit that I felt different. Because I was dressed up, I found that I was walking taller (no pun intended), and I had more confidence. As a result, I likely was giving off a different vibe than I normally do, and it was probably at least partially that, which people were reacting to.
3. I have a tendency to absorb other people’s energy, so if someone comes up to me and is smiling, I’ll generally smile. If they are excited, I’ll generally be excited (unless it’s too early in the morning, then you’re getting RBF). If they are upset and complaining, I’ll start complaining. My point is, if people felt that because of my appearance, I was approachable, and they approached me in a positive way, I responded in kind. Hence the increased number of positive encounters I had throughout the week.
4. I feel, as I always have, that people should be judged on the quality of their work and not what they look like, but that’s just not how most of society is. I did learn that in the culture I work in (not in American culture, necessarily), men seem to be more comfortable with women who are traditionally feminine. I have a dominant personality, which has served me well in my career but not necessarily in my relationships in that specific environment. I’m big enough to admit when I have work to do on myself, and if dressing up and softening my “look” helps me put others at ease enough to get work done, then that’s just what I have to do. I’m okay with that, despite the extra time it takes to pack and get ready in the morning.

I need to be clear that these are just my observations and experiences. I am not preaching that anyone, myself included, should change who they are to make other people happy. I do, however, think that we all have opportunities to look at what we’re doing, and how we can do it better. There have been a few times in my career where I’ve gotten feedback and I’ve had to take a hard look at where I could improve. It’s been in those moments of honest introspection that I’ve had the most personal and professional growth, and while they were absolutely terrible in the moment, I know they were necessary. As one of my old bosses used to tell me “there’s no growth without pain.” Cheers to your continued growth, readers!