Ugly: A Letter to My Daughter

Journalist Fairyington examines beauty standards and reflects on her meandering road to self-acceptance in her bold debut. “I am an ugly woman. I was an ugly child, too,” she writes in the opening sentences, announcing her intention to unpack those labels for the benefit of her young daughter. Each chapter confronts a different set of aesthetic social norms, from hygiene to racial hierarchies, placing cultural histories of traditions like Chinese foot binding beside Fairyington’s memories of growing up queer. Throughout, she parallels her daughter’s unburdened moments of self-discovery with memories of her own, crediting the study of queer theory with shaping her eventual self-confidence (“I began to recognize myself as a critical component of the whole, essential to every other part, vital because of my unexpected twists and turns, my radical counterpoints to normality and beauty”). Though the academic sections are often fascinating, they can be hard to wade through; Fairyington shines most in intimate moments when she addresses her daughter directly, as when she expresses pride in her for “calling out a friend’s racism, sporting an outfit that made you look like a goth girl, going high fashion among classmates who dressed down.” This maternal manifesto makes a major impression. (May)