“My husband has always embodied what people call ‘traditional masculinity.’ But a few months ago, he began experimenting with makeup. It started subtly — just a touch of concealer — but soon grew into full routines with contouring, foundation, and eyeliner whenever we went out.
At first, I supported him completely. I believed in his right to express himself and wanted him to feel confident. But things began to change once the whispers started. Friends, relatives, even coworkers began making comments — not to him, but to me.
‘How could you let him do this?’
‘Aren’t you embarrassed?’
Suddenly, his choices became a reflection of me, at least in the eyes of others. No matter how much I wanted to be supportive, the constant judgment wore me down. The laughter, the gossip — it all started to hurt.
The breaking point came one evening after a particularly rough day filled with snide remarks. When I came home and saw his makeup scattered across the bathroom counter, something in me snapped. Without thinking, I threw it all away — the brushes, the concealer, the foundation, everything.
When he walked in and saw what I’d done, I braced myself for an argument. But instead of shouting, he just stood there in silence. The look in his eyes said everything. In that moment, I understood the gravity of what I had done — not just to his belongings, but to his identity. I hadn’t destroyed makeup; I had destroyed trust.
Now I can’t stop asking myself if I made the right choice. I didn’t act out of cruelty. I did it out of fear — fear of mockery, fear of judgment, fear of losing the approval of others. But in trying to protect us from outside criticism, I may have caused a much deeper wound — one that cut into his sense of self and his faith in me.”