Growing up, we all want the same thing: to be liked and feel like we belong.
And for those of us who truly are different, whether it’s because we come from a different culture altogether or we see the world differently, there’s a price we’re forced to pay: fear, isolation, and being the bud of every joke. It’s painful. It hurts. And that feeling follows us, creating insecurities about the very things that make us unique.
But as Hany shows us, when we’re brave enough to embrace all the things that make us different, we discover our own beauty and are finally able to share it and light up the world.
A key element of attractiveness is personality. And what I strive to be, especially in sales, is the person not like the rest of the people you expect to see. So, instead of being the guy in the tie that people don’t want to see, I wanted to be the guy that was a breath of fresh air.
I look at my beauty as more than just a pretty face. If there’s no personality or emotional investment into it, it isn’t meaningful. I want to believe I’m beautiful, even though I know I have hundreds of flaws, almost as if that makes me who I am.
I truly feel like the more attractive a person is the more unattractive they feel they are. I can tell by my friends. Me and my friends are the oddest group of people. Some of us you can look at and tell we care about our beauty and appearance. And then there are others who don’t care as much. And that’s good and bad.
Growing up, I thought different was bad. For example, my name wasn’t Tyler or John, or a typical American name. I don’t know why I associated it with bad, I just know that I didn’t like what was different about me.
I look at it as great now, but it affected me negatively before because I didn’t have any self value and I didn’t see myself as good looking. My friends would joke saying I was so ugly, and I would always take it to heart because I am an emotional person. I never thought I was good enough in a way. Part of the reason I took their jokes to heart was due to having somewhat of an outcast mentality.
Growing up, I thought different was bad. For example, my name wasn’t Tyler or John, or a typical American name. I don’t know why I associated it with bad, I just know that I didn’t like what was different about me. I didn’t like that I wasn’t as athletic, that I was shorter and hairier.
My family didn’t do the things that everyone else did, like sports. Even simple things like restaurants. I hated hearing, “You’ve never done that before?!” So, whether I wanted to or not, hearing those kinds of jokes triggered that fear of being different, the oddball, the outcast. It brought back the pain and discomfort as a result of being different from everyone around me.
It’s taken some time, but more recently I’ve started believing more in myself. Don’t get me wrong: I do care about what people think of me–everyone does. But at the end of the day, I place more importance more on how I feel in my skin, as opposed to being something or someone else than I actually am just so that someone will find me attractive or want to be friends with me. When you do that, I think people can see right through it. Instead, I want to be the man I want others to see; I want to be brave enough to allow them to see the real me.