5 women share their unconventional journeys to loving the skin they’re in

by Sneha Mankani

November 16, 2018

Unperturbed by self-doubt, societal norms and ‘filters’, these ladies are making a strong case for loving themselves the way they are. This is their story of freedom, strength and beauty

5-women-share-their-unconventional-journey-to-loving-the-skin-theyre-in — Image: Maya Kendall-Shah

I always looked forward to History class in school. I loved delving deep into the past, visualising, daydreaming and mentally teleporting to times gone by. But what I, and probably most of my classmates, waited for in eager anticipation, were those unplanned mental exercises and group discussions that our History teacher would have with us. One particular discussion that hasn’t left me till date was when she asked us, “If you had to change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” Hands shot up—some instantly, some hesitantly—everyone taking inward cognisance of their own self-worth. “I wish I didn’t have this massive mark on my thigh since birth.” “I wish my nose was thinner.” “I wish…”

Now, while the times have changed today, self-acceptance is still a phenomenon that many struggle with. We may not be able to prevent ‘why me’ moments from being a recurring theme in our lives, but if we learn to embrace our imperfections and accept every inch of our being—skin and bone—we’ll have more to celebrate, and less to complain about.

We spoke to five women who are rewriting the definition of beauty with their scars, curves and spots. If beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, they’re teaching you to free yourself of judgement when you look in the mirror. And they’re your reminder to accept and embrace what you have, instead of cooping up under the veil of self-pity.

TULSI VAGJIANI

Plane crash and burns survivor, Pilates rehabilitation specialist

I was 10 years old when on February 14, 1990, I lost my mum, dad and brother in a plane crash in India, and sustained 45 per cent burns to my face and body. I was flown back to the UK where I reside, to a burns unit where I met with my family. Six weeks after my accident, the nurse was due to remove the bandages from my eyes. There was a huge emphasis on the fact that I ‘look different’. I didn’t quite know what that meant. What could be so hard about seeing myself? When the nurse held the mirror and I looked at myself, I thought it was a sick joke. It’s in that moment I realised something big had happened. I struggled with my confidence as I deemed myself ugly and worthless because of my scars.

July 10, 2013 is the day I found unconditional love for myself, during a reiki session. It was a pivotal moment in my life because suddenly I wasn’t fighting myself. I made peace with the loss of my family and accepted how I look. I recall accepting my crooked smile as my own, and that I was never born to blend in but to stand out. I have had many days of feeling unworthy or not good enough. They have weighed me down and I never saw a way out. I meditate and practice self-love daily. I don’t ignore or react to negative thoughts, but I allow them to ride and pass. We have the power of the mind and the ability to change a negative situation into a positive. Fundamentally, we need to practise being kind to ourselves. Do not fear what others think, and focus on what feels right for you. Be proud to stand out in a crowd and never lose focus of what is important for you. We all have the strength to overcome adversity, but it’s our mindset that determines whether we choose to be a victim or a survivor.

NINU GALOT

Entrepreneur, fitness model

When I was 11 years, I developed my first patch behind my neck. It was after I left university that I had a burst of vitiligo and it spread fast everywhere. For 14 years, I fought the condition, trying different treatments to fix myself when I wasn’t broken. I’ve always been a perfectionist and this was one thing I couldn’t control. I felt like I had failed. There were times I didn’t want to exist. But after I started travelling, I realised no one cared about the vitiligo. They saw me for the person that I am. So who was I hurting myself for? We only have one life, so why live it for others and [keep] thinking [about] what they’d want? Vitiligo has taught me to love myself as a person, to be strong. Learn to let go and accept that some things are just meant to be and happen for a reason. I’ve built myself to such a position in life where I’m financially, mentally, emotionally and physically stronger to be a voice for women. If I can do it, so can you. We all have that inner strength.

ISABELLA FERNANDES

Fire survivor, part time model, art gallery intern

Image: Maya Kendall-Shah

I was in a house fire when I was 17 years old, where my shirt had caught on fire—which has left me with scarring and disfigurement. My scars continue to change slightly with further surgeries, and there’s something quite interesting about them being permanent but also impermanent in the way they shrink and grow. The idea that skin has to be perfect is redundant; everyone gets bruises, skin changes and develops over time. My scars will continue to change as I get older, but they’re a permanent part of me that I am confident with. Perhaps with modelling, I have grown more confident about my appearance and body. It has now been just over three years since my accident. I have gone from not being able to lift my arm above 90 degrees to swimming and dancing with my arms lifted high. I have never felt more beautiful than I do now, in my body that has been through so many changes. My body is beautiful because it has learnt to move again. After being restricted movement-wise post my accident, I feel freedom in the knowledge that my body has overcome the trauma of my accident and has learnt to move again.

AMBER QURESHI

Plus size model, founder, The Plum Tree Clothing

For as many years as I can remember, I felt held back not by my weight, but by the judgment of people. I faced both passive and direct ridicule of my body when I was in school, in college and even when I started working. “Fat cow”, “moti”, “aaloo” are some of the ‘kinder’ words used by some to define me. A few years ago, I was out for a social dance night with two of my girlfriends. It was salsa night (and I am a trained salsa dancer). I dressed up in my best, looked pretty and was all set for a night of fun and dancing. We walked into this club playing Latino music, [with] girls and boys dancing, and we made our way to a corner. Both my friends were invited to dance within 10 minutes of entering the place, while I waited the whole evening for someone to come and ask me. Then I quietly left the party. This incident broke my heart. I was judged for being a big size. Some assumed that I am fat and couldn’t dance and some didn’t want to be seen dancing with a girl like me. I was low for many weeks thereafter, but then I decided to not let this and many other incidents like these affect me anymore. I decided then to live life on my own terms, if nobody asked me to dance then I would rule the dance floor on my own. The day I brought this change in me, I realised the world also started looking at me differently. I started loving myself and giving myself the respect that I expected from others. Now, I am the first person to hit the dance floor and the last to leave.

LAXMI DIXIT

Acid attack survivor and activist

I was 15, in 2005, when this 32-year-old man proposed to me for marriage. Upon my rejection, he, along with his brother’s girlfriend, stopped me outside the bus stand I would go to daily at Khan Market. The girl pushed me, and threw the acid she was holding on my face. I don’t even remember when I fell unconscious, but when I regained my senses, I felt like I was burning alive, and I was still on the road, screaming for help.

My skin was melting. When my dad reached the hospital and hugged me, his shirt burned from the effect of the acid on my skin. I’ve had multiple operations, which include sewing my eyes while I was conscious, I’ve remained in a hospital for 2 and a half months, and when I finally looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t believe this had happened to me. Committing suicide felt better than living with that face. But then I told myself, my first mistake was not telling my parents before the attack about the man who did this to me, and I will make my second one now if I kill myself and leave them with too many questions unanswered. I decided to speak to them instead. My dad told me that one day, I will come to love this face of mine. He wasn’t wrong.

In 2006 we put a case in the court to ban acid. Meanwhile, I took admission in the 10th standard. In 2009 I took a challenge upon myself to make something out of my life. I took courses in beauty, tailoring, computers, and began living my life again. I decided to uncover my face. I heard nasty comments—and what hurt me more was that they came from girls more than boys. But instead of self-pity, I stood up for myself. I told them off. It was a struggle to even get a job, because of my face. I faced many rejections until finally, in 2013, I joined a campaign and started an organisation, where we rehabilitated more than 300 girls. We started India’s first cafe run by acid attack victims. We decided that if no one is giving us a job, we will make them for ourselves. Giving money and helping the organisation is one thing, but I believe that being our friend is more important. Being ‘normal’ with us is important. During this time, is also when the Supreme Court passed the order on acid ban—that it will not be sold openly or without an ID proof. Every story has its pros and cons. We usually tend to separate ourselves from it, but I am a part of the society that dissed me. If today I have come out and stood up for myself, I believe I have proven myself and I am willing to be open about it and speak. I want girls that have faced a situation like mine to know that they can speak to. I want to tell them that they have the right to feel beautiful in spite of what society thinks of them. I want their parents to know that it is important to rethink views, push your kids to move forward and support them. That they are normal, and not alone.