This Is What Beautiful Felt Like

Before I Knew What I Was Missing

There was a lot of moments where when I looked in the world of beauty, I didn’t feel reflected. Not in the beauty aisles, not on the covers of magazines, not even in the makeup chair. I experienced a quiet disconnect. A gap between how I looked and how I felt. I didn’t have the language for it at the time.

I had never been made to feel truly beautiful, like I belonged in the softness and celebration that beauty promised everyone else. Especially as a Black girl. Instead I lived in a world that so often told us we had to earn beauty, not just exist in it.

The Moment It Clicked

I don’t remember the exact day, but I remember the mirror.

It wasn’t a special event or some glamorous photoshoot. I was a freshman in high school, standing in my bathroom with that bright orange tube of mascara… CoverGirl LashBlast. I had just bought it with my own money. That and the Queen Collection pressed powder in the deep purple packaging.

I didn’t know much about shade matching or undertones, but for once, I didn’t have to fight to feel included. The foundation looked like me. The mascara made my eyes pop in a way that didn’t feel forced. And for the first time, I looked in the mirror and felt something shift.

Not “made up" or “trying too hard.” I felt beautiful. Familiar. Like myself, but seen.

Growing up, traditional beauty rarely left space for girls like me. Sure, we had the icons such as Naomi, Tyra, a handful of Black actresses and musicians in the mainstream, but the aisles at the drugstore didn’t reflect that. The commercials didn’t reflect that. The rules didn’t reflect that.

Beauty was allowed, but only in select packaging. And even then, it came with fine print. Your features had to be softened. Your hair had to be tamed. Your tone had to be light enough or deep enough, but not too much of either.

But that day, in a bathroom with drugstore makeup and curiosity, I found a version of myself that didn’t feel like a compromise. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine.

And that meant everything.

More Than Makeup: It Was the Mirror I Didn’t Know I Needed

Back then, I thought I was just playing in makeup. I didn’t realize I was beginning to unlearn everything the world had told me about my beauty. That little purple compact and orange mascara weren’t just products, they were permission. They cracked something open. For the first time, I wasn’t trying to fit into beauty, because the beauty I was curious about was meeting me where I was.

Looking back, I realize it was never about just the powder or the lashes, it was about reflection. I was starting to build a version of myself I could recognize. Makeup became my mirror, not one that showed me what to fix, but one that reminded me I was already whole.

It helped me step into softness I didn’t know I deserved. It gave me language for a kind of beauty that didn’t apologize.

And when you grow up constantly searching for affirmation in a world that rarely offers it, that kind of discovery felt revolutionary.

Finding Myself in the Glam

What started with that pressed powder became a routine, not of hiding, but of honoring. Glam gave me tools, but more than that, it gave me language. Makeup taught me how to express something I hadn’t found the words for yet: softness, power, presence, pride.

I didn’t initially set out to become a makeup artist, but I kept following the feeling. I wanted to understand it. Recreate it. Share it. Not the products, but the moment. That quiet moment when you pause and think, “Wait… is this me?”

And the answer is yes.

I knew I never wanted to create a mask, but I did want to help create a version of you that’s always been there. One that is just waiting to be invited forward. The more I created glam for others, the more I saw myself in their stories. Their hesitations. Their relief. Their light.That reflection I searched for as a teenager? I get to give it back now in every face I touch. Glam helped me find myself and now, it’s how I help others find themselves, too.

The After

Today, I set out to not just do makeup. I set out to build mirrors. Not the kind that reflect perfection, but the kind that reflect truth. Most importantly the kind I needed when I was younger.

Every time I prep a face, adjust the lighting, reach for a brush… I’m thinking about that girl who stood in her bathroom with a compact and mascara. I’m thinking about what it means to be seen. This work shouldn’t just be about trends. It’s not about chasing flawless, but about offering a moment. The moment is designed to pause, to soften, to step into the version of yourself you’ve always carried, even if no one else celebrated her yet.

The first time I felt beautiful wasn’t because someone else told me I was, it was because I saw myself and finally believed it. And now, that’s the gift I try to give back, again and again.

Not transformation. Not illusion. Just reflection.And the quiet reminder that beauty has always lived here.