Beauty and Mary Bennet

How do you know whether you’re plain or not and does it matter?

Remember Mary Bennet? The plain and solemn middle sister in Pride and Prejudice, stuck all alone between the pairings of Lizzy/Jane and Lydia/Kitty? The one who embarrassed everyone at the Bingley’s with her bad musical performance? The bookish Bennet who Jane Austen makes only slightly more likable than the reckless frivolity of Lydia and Kitty?

In the world of the novel, Mary has almost no part to play, except to serve as a different flavor of embarrassment to Jane and Elizabeth. In Katherine J. Chen’s novel, Mary B., Mary gets her own story. The book is well worth a read and it’s got me thinking about beauty. And families. And labels. It’s got me thinking about a lot of things.

I loved both of these books and would like another one as soon as possible, please and thank you.

Mary is supposed to be ‘plain,’ but what exactly does that mean? Is she out and out ugly? She’s also ‘solemn,’ so unlike Lydia, her personality doesn’t make up for any lack of looks she has. In the family dynamic, everyone knows Jane is the pretty one and Lizzy the stubborn (proud) one. In that family eco-system, what’s left for Mary but books and solemnity?

Many of us have similar experiences in our own families. One sibling is the smart one. Another is the athletic one. She’s good at math, but she’s the artist. He’s outgoing and he’s the introvert. The labels we attach to children are powerful, even if they’re not always particularly accurate. Because we get labeled at such a young age, we can spend the rest of our lives trying to step outside the box our families put us in. The struggle is real.

It took reading Chen’s novel for me to realize that I was never Elizabeth. Not really. She’s the heroine, so, of course, I wanted to be Elizabeth. And I’m stubborn, for sure, but I never moved through the world with the easy confidence Elizabeth has. I could never take on Darcy like that. No, in my family, I was Mary. Bookish. Withdrawn. Most likely to be found hiding in my room, staring out my window and daydreaming.

My sister was the pretty and popular sister, from as far back as I can remember, and that came with its own pains and traumas. All labels constrain and pinch, even the good ones. My sister had as little control over her label as I did. This essay has no villains.

What I want to know is what made Mary ‘plain’ and ‘solemn.’ As a sociologist, I’m interested in how we become the labels we’re given and any other truth falls away. I think maybe this is part of what Katherine J. Chen was interested in, too, in the novel about Mary’s life. Is Mary ‘plain’ or isn’t she?

My sister and I look alike, especially so when we were teenagers. One of the boys who was courting my sister (there were a lot or at least it seemed that way to me) came to the front door once and when I answered, he mistook me for my sister. I was thrilled, of course. And also, deeply puzzled. If I looked so much like my sister, why wasn’t there a parade of boys knocking on the door for me?

Labeling theory in sociology tells us that through an ongoing process of social interaction, we tend to become the labels people place on us. If I’m not pretty or popular, than what am I? Plain and solemn, right? The bookish sister who sits against the wall at the Netherfield ball, her dance card empty.

Even if you don’t want to be Mary, the effort of fighting against it is exhausting. Make an effort—put on makeup or smile more—and no one notices. The label is always there in the way, like a distortion field that keeps everyone from seeing who you really are underneath.

Eventually, you give up fighting the label. Fine, I’m plain. I’m solemn. I’ll show you just how solemn I can be. Oh, friends, I got very good at that. I’m the cranky, difficult sister? Hold the mike and I’ll show you what cranky and difficult really looks like.

And so, why didn’t more boys come knocking on the door for me? Not because I was plain, but because I built an impressive wall of crankiness and difficulty around me and didn’t let a lot of people through. And because I was the other sister. As soon as I could get to a place where no one knew the label, it lost its power. Magic.

This is what motivates so many of us to get the hell away from the places we grew up. Because if we don’t, we’ll never get the chance to be who we really are. We’ll never be able to leave those labels behind.

This essay has no victims, either. I spent a lot of my life wondering whether I was, in fact, plain. At forty-eight, I have my answer—no, I’m gorgeous. End of story. That’s the beauty of getting older—there’s only one person who’s opinion about my appearance matters and that would be me.

I might still be a bit difficult, but there’s nothing wrong with being a difficult woman. The world could use a few more of us, frankly. There’s also an upside to being the bookish and solemn sister. Like Mary in Chen’s novel, I withdrew into books and the inside of a book is a wonderful place to be. I learned to be okay being by myself. I learned to love solitude and that’s a good skill to have. I became a writer. Plain people often do. Books are the ultimate vindication of the ‘other’ sibling.

In Mary B., Chen gives Mary a happy ending. No double weddings, but then only shallow people think a marriage is a happy ending in the first place. Mary finds her own unique and perfect happy ending. That’s what we plain people do.

---

Thanks for reading and commenting and liking and sharing, as always! I love hearing from everyone!

Mark your calendars for some upcoming events. I’ll be at Joseph-Beth Booksellers in Cincinnati on Tuesday, August, 9, talking the paperback of She/He/They/Me and answering all your gender questions. I’ll also be doing an online event with Malaprop’s Bookstore in Asheville, North Carolina on Tuesday, August 23…link coming soon.

Here’s a big question for folks—would you pay for this newsletter? I love writing these posts and hearing back from people. Also, the writing takes time and effort and I’m a big believer in the idea that as long as we’re all capitalists up in here (I’d rather we weren’t, but that’s another post), people should get paid for what they create.

Most of the content would still be accessible to those with free subscriptions, but extras would be for paid subscribers only. So do me a solid and answer the two quick polls below!