Sciences Participating with Arts & Culture in Education

Red

A Mini Memoir

Societal beauty standards and my struggles with self-perception helped me further develop my emotional intelligence: today I understand that acne strengthened my empathy and compassion towards others. The colors, the symbols and the expressions in the illustrations help demonstrate some of the stages in my journey towards self-acceptance.

Beauty in distress is much the most affecting beauty.
-Edmund Berke

There is beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are.
-Jayce Talis

I was 14 when red sports started to appear on my face. My friend tells me it’s actually pretty common; 80% of teenagers are affected. 80%?! I told her that was not possible; nobody in the entire school looked like me. I did not yet understand I had severe acne, which was much rarer. Some websites say the moderate to severe stage affects perhaps 20% of people globally. ⅕ of people!? I’ve seen max 20 in my life with severe acne.

My science teacher was talking about puberty and hormones in class. She said the last resort to stopping acne was accutane. All faces turned in my direction.

Actually, I hadn’t known that they’d looked at me; this was told to me by a girl who also had acne. At first, she thought they were staring at her. “But then I realized they were looking at you and not me. Gosh I was so relieved!” she said.

Oh.

These red bumps dismantled me bit by bit; it was like the devil was shooting arrows at me. One arrow a time, a couple a day. Whatever made him giggle a little, I guess.

I did not yet understand that this devil was none other than my own body, so I tried to take control of it. That was far from easy.

It became increasingly difficult to look in the mirror, so much so I’d have to close the lights when coming out of the shower, or I’d cry at my own sight.

Physically, cystic acne feels like the mix of a bruise infected with poison that disperses all over your face, chest and back. It’s itchy and super irritating. You don’t need to touch it to feel the pain; its mere existence is pretty unbearable. It burns all my energy away. Being a student is tiring enough! I really didn’t need this too.

I think I tried just about everything. Drinking lots of water, cutting sugar, oily foods and dairy products, washing my pillowcase and sheets often, not touching my face, getting more sleep, trying traditional Chinese remedies… And most importantly : skincare, skincare, and MORE SKINCARE. But my skin just didn’t care.

I wish I had known that no amount of skincare would change anything. Up until then, I had avoided pills because I hated the idea of shoving chemicals down my throat to alter whatever hormones in my body. It completely went against the natural ways of traditional Chinese medicine.

But I was desperate. The next two years were a mix of trying antibiotics, birth control pills for acne and retinols. The side effects were pretty horrible, but it was worth it since the red was slowly disappearing. However, I had to stop some time after because the dizziness it caused was too much to handle. I then regretted having stopped, because the red dots quickly resurfaced and I was reminded of how painful it all was.

One of the hardest parts was staying calm when people stared or commented on my skin. Sometimes strangers stopped me in the streets to say I should wash my face.

Ha! Thank you, I hadn’t thought of that. Or they’d say I should see a doctor. Gosh.

I remember every single one of my mom’s friends commenting on my skin whenever they came over. One of them, who hadn’t seen me in a few years, saw my face full of puss-filled inflamed acne, and said: “Oh my Goodness what on earth happened to your face?!”, with horror and disgust in her eyes. Genetics! That’s what happened to my face! I did not actually say that out loud. She then, of course, said I should see a dermatologist.

I’ve learned over the years to simply smile and say “I’ve already tried, but thanks for your concern.”

I know people’s intention is to help, but they don’t understand that the best way of doing so is by not commenting on my appearance.

One of my ways of coping with acne was makeup. I wasn’t hiding my acne with foundation though, not only because it's better for my skin to breathe instead of being covered, but more importantly because I knew that once I started masking my face, I wouldn’t be able to live without it. It’s a “once you get in, you can’t get out” kind of situation. Instead, I focused on eyeshadow to drive people's attention towards my eyes instead of my skin. Actually, I really did enjoy playing with the colors and glitters of eyeshadow and my passion for makeup started to grow.

Eyeshadow became a mode of self-expression. It gave me a new sense of identity. I wasn’t the pimple faced girl anymore: I was the bold makeup girl. I didn’t mind that some people might have thought I looked like a clown or a raccoon. I kind of owned it.

I started to gain a little confidence, after so many years of hating myself, and people actually liked my makeup. I was complimented often. I had never gotten compliments before. I did a friend's makeup for a wedding event, two other friend’s makeup for prom and was a makeup artist for a modeling show at my school.

3 months after I had turned 17, some friends and I were standing in line to get ice cream distributed to graduating students. I wanted some, but the little guy with red wings and horns kept tracing something on the ice creams that were being handed out: “60g SUGAR” marked in red. 60g was my quota for 4 days. Taking this sweet and dairy in one shot would guarantee two cystic red bumps on my face and probably one on my back.

Goddammit, I just wanted ice cream.

I asked Angelica, one of the girls in our group, if I could talk to her privately. Angelica is quite literally the sweetest angel I’d ever met, and I needed her comfort. We sat on some grass a few meters away and I broke down because I couldn’t have ice cream. She understood it wasn’t really about the ice cream.

We sat there for 20 min while she comforted me. I hid my face with my palms the whole time so she wouldn't have to bear seeing it. Before we went back to join the rest, Angelica told me…

My eyes widened and I cried even more.

I did end up taking accutane and it's helping me tremendously, despite the side effects.

But having acne was never really about getting rid of it.

I hated it for having left physical and mental scars on me, but I’m sort of grateful for it at the same time.

I can now understand the full extent of: “Be kind towards others; you never know what they’re going through.”

I’m now a little more knowledgeable, I‘ve found some real friends and I have become the person I am today thanks to acne.

Original illusrations by author.