In this trans day of visibility essay, writer Alexandra Diamond-Rivlin explains her evolving makeup routine, and how beauty is about so much more than aesthetics for trans women.
When I transitioned nearly four years ago, I knew my physical appearance would change, but I did not foresee the influence of hormones on my makeup routine. While certain classics have sustained – the staple red lip, for instance – my journey with beauty has been shaped by varying trends and societal pressures. As my phone’s memory feature reminds me (among other fashion choices best left in the past), nights out used to mean a fearless, smoky eye and a crimson blush – the kind of look that announces itself. But, more recently, I have aimed for the clean girl aesthetic: a fresh, natural look achieved with minimal mascara and a tinted moisturizer. Admittedly, not all my looks from the early period in my transition were what I describe as chic today, but I have to give that girl some credit: she used makeup as a tool to express herself. Things have been different in recent years. Makeup has been less about expression and more about fitting in – a way of polishing myself into a seamless blend.
For most cis people, makeup is often a simple aesthetic choice, with subtle changes in presentation rarely signaling deeper shifts in identity. Looking back at an older version of myself, I realize I have never been afforded the luxury of such an oversight; I cannot talk about my relationship with makeup without mentioning my experience of passing (which is when a transgender person is perceived as cisgender). In an essay published by AnOther Magazine, I wrote about the pressure I felt to appear as cis while at the start of my transition. “I just want to feel like a normal girl,” I recalled confessing to a friend when she asked why I so strongly felt the need to hide my transness. While the pressure to pass remains, I am certainly more upfront about my identity than I have been in the past, and a large part of that I owe to the women, trans and cis, who are challenging conventional ideas of beauty with experimental makeup.
Julia Fox, whose iconic smoky eye hit the internet like a storm, gave me a renewed excitement for color, shapes, and glitter. Chappell Roan’s drag-inspired looks have also had a profound impact, serving as a masterclass on fearless, playful beauty, while the rise of popular television competitions such as Glow Up have highlighted the possibility of makeup to tell stories about our lived experiences. Cultural events like these encourage girls like me to reconnect with our former queerness, and be creative with our appearance without the risk of dysphoria.
In speaking to other trans women about how their make-up has changed recently, it became clear to me that the greater, cultural freedom to experiment has unlocked a deeper desire to explore and design a more unique, personalized look. As Elouiza, a London-based musician and performer, recently shared with me: “I used to aspire to more conventional expressions of femininity with the whole ‘no makeup makeup’, however now, I’m more focussed on creating a glamorous, signature beat”.
A huge inspiration in developing my own signature has been Isamaya Ffrench, whose makeup brand advocates for “beauty without restraint. In my journey toward reviving a queer aesthetic, I have become obsessed with the metal lip balm in shade pantomime – a pearlescent gleam I like to line the edges of with No7’s metallic eye pencil in purple (tip: I find eyeliners last longer on the lips than lipliners). Another alteration in my look has been thin eyebrows, a style I dedicate to the 2000s pop stars I grew up wanting to be, like Christina Aguilera, Madonna and Gwen Stafani. It might sound like a minor adjustment, but one of the greatest pleasures of experimenting with makeup again has been identifying with early memories of girlhood, and becoming the vision of womanhood I had always hoped for.
Whereas I once feared that experimenting with makeup might make me stand out or feel isolated, it has instead fostered a deeper sense of belonging than ever before. As beauty influencer, Maxine Heron – who came out as transgender six years ago after transitioning privately in her teens – tells me, it can be the smallest details in a person’s appearance that can create a sense of unspoken solidarity: “Making my eyebrows skinny lately has been really fun,” she says. “I feel like I’m a part of something whenever I see a girl in the clubs who also has skinny brows; it feels very queer-coded.” Maxine and I share more than the skinny brow: we share the sentiment behind it.
Beauty, for girls like us, is more than aesthetics, it is a sign to ourselves and others that we are not alone. It reminds us that we are part of something larger – a culture forged from the shared feeling of otherness. And despite what some may think, it feels good to be in our skin.
