The cost of narco beauty standards
"If I hadn't undergone cosmetic surgery as a child ... I would have learned to love and respect myself with the body I was born with."
[Editor’s note: This week’s post is written by an anonymous contributor. If you are interested in writing for La Cuenta, reach out.]
When I was 12 years old, I remember being teased relentlessly by my classmates because of my nose. I felt ugly, unattractive, demotivated, and I imagined myself alone for the rest of my life. I remember expressing my feelings to my parents on numerous occasions. My mom was always a loving woman, full of praise for me. My father, on the other hand, would tell me not to worry—not because my classmates were wrong, but because everything had a solution. To him, a woman's appearance was crucial since it determined her ability to find a good match -- a man who could provide financially so she wouldn't have to work and could take care of the home. My father made it clear that, once I was a little older, he would pay for cosmetic surgery for me.
Just after turning 14, I remember going with my cousin as she underwent breast implant surgery. She was sixteen, and that was her family’s birthday gift. When I accompanied her to the surgeon, I asked if he would perform a nose job on me at that age. Without hesitation he said of course. As soon as the surgeon agreed, I shared the news with my father. Within a month, I fulfilled my dream of having a refined and daintier nose.
I remember going with my cousin as she underwent breast implant surgery. She was sixteen, and that was her family’s birthday gift.
It wasn’t that my family grew up wealthy. Both of my parents struggled in their youth. When he was 12—the same age that I endured my classmates’ teasing—my father worked on a farm. By the time he was in his twenties, he was able to turn a small personal farm into a larger scale ranch. My father knew the sweat and sacrifice that went into his investment in my appearances.
I had idealized the notion that looking attractive would automatically make people accept and love me. Over time, I realized that the first surgery didn't yield the results I expected. I knew, as a teenage girl that I needed to keep improving my appearance. My father emphasized the importance of being slim. My mother was my role model, a beautiful woman with an impeccable smile, golden hair, spectacular curves, and a sparkle in her eyes that lit up everything around her. In my mind, I associated her appearance as directly related to both her and my father’s happiness. I also saw that the more conventionally beautiful some of the other women in my family were, the wealthier partners they seemed to attract.
So, at 16, I went to another surgeon, who had operated on two of my friends. I wanted to find out about undergoing liposuction and rhinoplasty. As expected, he agreed to do the work. Just a quick parental signature and cash payment were required. My mother supported the decision, even if she wasn’t as enthusiastic as my father was. This is how, at 16, I underwent liposculpture and a second rhinoplasty.
Finally, I had a voluptuous body and a more symmetrical face. The doctor removed fat from my belly and back, transferring it to my hips. After the surgery, my body underwent a significant transformation. Although I had requested a 'natural' appearance, my body ended up looking voluptuous in the eyes of others.
Of course, I wasn’t a happier person. I underwent multiple surgeries in my childhood – like many of my classmates – because I had a fallacy in my mind, reinforced by a sexist and superficial culture. The Mexican and narco culture I grew up in attaches a woman’s value to the quality of the partner they can secure, rather than valuing us as full and naturally beautiful human beings.
I am glad I was able to stop the surgeries at a very young age. Looking back, it is clear that women my age—both in Mexico and here in the U.S.—grew up in a psychologically violent environment. I was taught to look attractive to find someone who would solve my problems and maintain a wealthy lifestyle. I am heartbroken reflecting on this.
Ten years later, I found myself without proper documentation in California. It became evident that society's expectations and perceptions frequently shaped my experiences. I began to contemplate the significance of being slimmer and curvier when I navigated the challenges of seeking employment and questioned my feelings of belonging within my community.
If I hadn't undergone surgery as a child and had instead worked on my self-esteem at that age, I would have learned to love and respect myself and the body I was born with. I would have still found the love I so desperately sought. Love starts internally and it took me too long to learn to find the love I craved inside of me.
Propina
If you’re interested in understanding more of the history of normalized cosmetic surgery in Mexico, the “buchona” style, its connection to drug cartels, Deborah Bonello’s recent book Narcas offers a powerful insight. (We’ll feature part of La Cuenta’s interview with Deborah soon!)
We’ll see you next week.