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Jewish Values and "Ugly Betty"
By Debra B. Darvick
One of my favorite shows these days is "Ugly Betty." Betty is as uber-homely as they come—braces, glasses, a puffy pale-blue down coat right out of the '80s, unruly dark hair, double-digit dress size. She works as an administrative assistant to the editor-in-chief of Mode, the fashion world's bible. The office is filled with snarky fashionistas who, week after week, delight in putting Betty down.
Yet Betty—the ugly duckling among swans, of Mexican descent amongst DAR darlings—prevails, unwaxed eyebrows and all. Betty uses her outsider status to her advantage. After trying (unsuccessfully, of course) to ape the monkeys in their Manolos, she realizes she can only be who she is and who she is is smart, sensitive, determined. These attributes are beyond, and independent of, her looks. They are the same attributes that Jews have used to prevail for millennia.
As a child, I heard many conflicting messages about beauty. "A pretty girl is like a melody..." my mother would occasionally sing to me. I would also sometimes see her sit at her dressing table, peer into her silver hand mirror and sigh, "If pretty were happy. If only pretty were happy." So which is it? Is beauty important? A burden? Irrelevant to one's true worth as a human being? Yes. Yes. And yes. On one hand (the hand whose tapered fingers are manicured) we hear the message that it is better to be beautiful than not. That first impressions count. That men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses. (Thanks Dorothy P.) On the other hand (the hand too busy or disinterested for manicures) we want our children to understand that beauty is only skin deep, that who we are is more important than what we look like. Or, as my mother also said, "Pretty is as pretty does." In other words true beauty is rooted in goodness; actions speak louder than lipstick.
Then there was the apocryphal story about Great-Grandma Molly, for whom farputzed (all dolled up) was a middle name. As the story goes, Great-Grandma Molly dressed to the nines even when she went to empty the trash. Her neighbor, Mrs. McGillicuddy, routinely came to the door in a house coat, her hair tied up in a shmata (rag), no makeup. One garbage day the trash man pulled up into their little alley in the Bronx. "Good morning, Mrs. Rosenbaum," he said to Grandma Molly. "You look beautiful as always." And then, as my mother told it, the garbage man turned to Mrs. McGillicuddy, looked her over and said, "Hop in, lady."
My mother's message was two-fold. We Rosenbaum women: my mother and her two sisters—Aunt Joyce (of blessed and well-put-together memory) and Aunt Judy; my three girl cousins; my two sisters and me—are beauties who are not above calling on the forces of Max Factor and Loehmann's sales to give Mother Nature a boost. The second message said that Jewish women take care of their appearance and are valued for it.
Do we let the tribe down if we do not teach our daughters to appreciate the value of well-mascaraed lashes? As Jewish parents, how do we celebrate our children's physical loveliness while guarding against being swept up in the face frenzy?
My response: The same way we do when approaching any dichotomy where Jewish values bump up against societal values (or the lack thereof). Jews do things differently. We value more than surface fancies; we concentrate on becoming a full person—below the neck as well as above; we model for our children a healthy respect for our own bodies. We also fuss over them, tell them they are beautiful and handsome, and indulge in pretty things as budgets permit. We set the tone early and sing our children's praises as complete human beings not just human "lookings." By doing so we give them permission to be exactly who they are.
The concept of b'tzelem elohim, created in God's image, can help us during those times when our children fall into the trap of comparing themselves unfavorably to the models in the magazines. If we are created in God's image, then impossible-to-tame curly hair is godly. So is being a brunette in a blonde world. Curvy bodies are just as godly as slim-hipped ones. By Judaism's standards, Betty is not ugly. Betty is created exactly in God's image and thus, she is beautiful.
One of the benefits of the current push for diversity awareness is that we are moving towards a multilayered concept of beauty. My daughter weighed in on the one-size-fits-all idea of beauty. "Mom," she said, "one of the most beautiful models is a black woman who's bald. There's really not one kind of beauty any more." Women's liberation for the 21st century?
Coming to terms with beauty standards is only one part of the issue. Why bother making such a big deal out of physical looks, period? Judaism is more concerned with our inner lives, our intellectual lives, our kindness towards others. "Love your neighbor as thyself" has nothing to do with hair and eye color and everything to do with seeing the intrinsic worth in another human being. It cautions against judging others more harshly than we judge ourselves.
Judaism also places high value on shalom bayit, peace in the home. Can a home be peaceful when parents urge their children to look a certain way? (I am reminded of the mother who gave her (not-overweight) daughter a life-time membership to Weight Watchers for a Sweet Sixteen gift.) Can a home be peaceful if we allow our children to torture themselves because they do not match a certain, and impossible to attain, standard of beauty. It is incumbent upon us as parents to help our children see beyond what are ultimately evanescent physical attributes to develop their characters. On the other hand, if a child is indeed overweight it behooves us to approach the issue from one of health (taking care of the body God blessed us with) which is long-term, rather than looks, which are, ultimately, fleeting.
Rabbi Joshua Shmidman draws parallels between beauty and the etrog, which blooms year round and which Torah calls "a fruit of a beautiful tree." Since the etrog blooms and bears fruit yearlong, Rabbi Shmidman reasons that its beauty is found in its endurance. Like Betty Suarez, like the Jewish people, true beauty is found not in the evanescence of physical attributes but in those inner qualities that, if we strive to make them a permanent part of our characters, will endure not only throughout our life time but also have the potential of beautifying the lives of others.
The rabbi also drew a link between age and beauty. Again he quotes the Torah which instructs us, "V''hadarta p'nei zakein" which is usually translated as "and honor the face of the old person." But as he reiterates, the word "hadar" literally means "beauty." What Torah is teaching us is that an old face is a beautiful face. This Jewish philosophy flies directly in the powdered and Botoxed face of Western civilization which finds beauty only in the face of the young.
I relate to Betty precisely because she is an outsider whose values help her rise above and triumph over her vain co-workers. She sees the industry for what it is—glittery and beautiful as well as evanescent and devoid of enduring value. She cannot be anyone other than who she is; by staying true to her inner core she soars over the swans. This, too, is how Jews have soared for centuries. It's OK to let our children preen and fluff their feathers. As long we ground them by prizing learning over looks, kindness over cosmetics and enduring Jewish values over fleeting vanity.