Learning to love my Jewish nose
My nose was my biggest physical insecurity growing up. I thought it was too big for my face and I didn’t like its curves. I would look in the mirror, examining my profile and trying to convince myself that it wasn’t so bad. Even up until recently, I would try to only have pictures taken straight on or from the side I didn’t hate as much. I occasionally still catch myself feeling extremely exposed if someone is looking at my right side profile, and sometimes turn my head or try to hide it with my hand.
The thought of getting a nose job crossed my mind occasionally – as if, when you don’t like something, you just break it.
My orthodontist told me that the “problem” wasn’t my nose at all; it was that my chin wasn’t “strong” enough, making my nose look bigger. He said, “It’s okay, sweetie, God just didn’t give you a chin” and offered to refer me to a plastic surgeon for a chin implant. He was a brilliant businessman, taking advantage of a 12 year old’s insecurities and creating a new one to obsess about.
This is a version of the story that women hear over and over again from society: “Take up less space.” “Be small, dainty, and unassuming.”
Well, I turn up my curvy, well-endowed nose at that bullshit.
I’m far less insecure about my nose than I used to be. I like that she has character. I accept that she’s a part of me, and that without her unique shape and ample resonating cavities, I probably wouldn’t be able to sing the same way.
Although you don’t have to be Jewish to have a well-endowed nose (and not all Jews have them), it tends to be a common characteristic amongst us Hebrews and Shebrews and Theybrews. I strive to be proud of my “Jewish nose” – shrinking it would even be a form of participating in my own oppression (as shrinking my body would be). That doesn’t mean I love it every day. It means that I would rather focus my energy on accepting it than trying to change it, an effort that would be expensive, painful, and would reinforce harmful beauty standards.
Caroline Caldwell is quoted: “In a society that profits from your self doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act.”
Or, in other words, accepting your nose is a great and radical act of chutzpah!
Photo: Amelia Anne Photography
💕💕💕💕💕 Beautiful words and photo. You’re gorgeous inside and out.
Thank you so much my dear – and so are you. 💗
Thank you for your words here. I am 55 now and struggle with my nose more than ever. It looks to me like a strange curved beak. I don’t know how to be okay with it. I think about changing it if I had the money – except I don’t want to remove the Jewishness from my face. I don’t want to suppress my Jewish heritage.
Oh, Karen. Thank you for sharing that. It can be really hard, and I’m sorry that you’re struggling.
Many people change their noses or other body parts and still feel insecure in some way. It’s possible that even if you did change your nose, you still wouldn’t like the way it looked after surgery.
You also don’t have to love your nose. I definitely don’t love mine all of the time. On those days I try to focus on something else, and remind myself that conventional beauty isn’t everything, and how society places so much emphasis on beauty to the point where we can get so caught up in it and end up feeling miserable about ourselves. We’re taught a Western beauty standard about small noses, but there are many different definitions of “beautiful.” And even if we’re not “beautiful,” we are still worthy. May you find peace and acceptance, my friend.
Thank you so much Amber!
It is so kind and helpful of you to take the trouble to write me this. I agree wholeheartedly. The fact is I value the Jewishness of my nose more than I dislike it, so I could certainly work on that as a way to be comfortable with it, and even to think of it as a form of ‘unconventional beauty.’
That’s so great to hear 🙂 I’m really happy to connect with you!