Why is being photographed without makeup the bravest thing a woman can do?

Looking a little shinier than usual without makeup.  I'm a great fan of the mirror selfie as I'm more used to seeing my face that way, so I'm less likely to hate the photo

The notion of a no-makeup selfie is an odd one.  Let's face it, the notion of a selfie is an odd one - in the many thousands of photographs taken during my childhood and teenage years, not one of them involved the person behind the camera taking a picture of themselves.  But mobile phones and digital cameras have made the term 'selfie' a standard part of our vernacular, and perhaps none more so than the no-makeup selfie.

I deliberately didn't participate in the recent spate of no make-up photographs being shared across social media: I still texted to donate to Cancer Research, of course, but I was uncomfortable with a few aspects of the trend, not least the idea that it was being done to 'raise awareness of cancer', as if cancer is something people are unaware about.  I questioned why awareness couldn't have been raised in more constructive ways: photos of women checking their breasts for abnormalities, for example (although if that had been the meme, Facebook would have banned it in a heartbeat, because from the amount of breast-feeding photographs they've censored, their attitude it clearly no boobs portrayed in a non-sexual way). 

More pertinently, I didn't like the way in which taking a selfie without makeup on was somehow seen as terribly brave: "look how far we'll go to help battle cancer".  This is not to demean the efforts of all those women who participated with the best intentions, who together managed to raise £8m for Cancer Research in a matter of days.  Rather, it's a criticism of the way in which the meme perpetuated the myth that a makeup free woman is somehow unnatural, and that being photographed - shock horror - without makeup is the bravest thing one can do. 

Although I've written at length about body positivity and acceptance, I have never managed to extend my positive attitude to my face. Put simply, I've never felt attractive or pretty and I've always focused on my flaws; the exact opposite approach I take with the rest of my body.  Because of this, I am almost never without a full face of makeup.  I honestly can't think of a time in the past 20 years when I've left the house bare-faced.  For a long time I suffered from acne, which I felt a need to cover up, and over time wearing makeup became a habit that I have never broken.  From foundation to even out my skin tone, to eyeshadow and liquid eyeliner flicks, I make myself up every morning and I take it all off every night, but I am becoming increasingly keen to examine the politics behind my choices.

There exists within our culture a set of gender norms, ones which have, if anything, become more entrenched in recent years.  Primped and perfect versions of womanhood are sold to us through the mainstream media.  From the surgery-enhanced charms of Kim Kardashian to willowy Hollywood stars, magazines tell us that 'real women' are hairless, poreless, blank and beautiful.  My generation of feminists, while eager to acknowledge that fat is a feminist issue and carrying out some powerful activism around fat acceptance and body positivity, seem less likely to accept that beauty can also a feminist issue.  Perhaps keen to distance ourselves from the 'hairy legs and dungaress' stereotypes, instead an aesthetic influenced by burlesque and pin-up girls - eyeliner, red lipstick, vintage dresses -has become a popular one with many young feminists, me included.

I am glad that feminism has moved beyond the debates of the 70s and 80s, about whether you can be a 'good' feminist and wear makeup or high heels, but I sometimes wonder if we now go too far in the opposite direction and enact gender norms without question.  I've recently read a number of interesting pieces by young feminists arguing - powerfully and persuasively - that their choice to wear makeup or wax their bodies is as valid a choice as the one to allow pubic hair to run free or go barefaced in public.  And, as someone who chooses not to wax but does wear makeup, I'm totally on board with that.  But it's also essential to recognise that whatever choices we make are made within a fiercely patriarchal society, and that wearing what we want is not an inherently feminist act.  I believe that we should perhaps think more critically about how our freedom to choose what to do with our bodies takes place within that society, with all of the limits it inevitably imposes, and to question why the choices we make (seemingly freely) so often seem to be ones that happen to perpetuate traditional gender norms.