Thank you, Van Morrison, for your thoughtful consideration.
It was only recently that I began observing a growing appreciation sweeping across social media platforms — on Instagram, I took note of a post that described brown eyes as golden rays that circle an eclipse, and as the later hours approach, they transform into a sunset that paints the sky. While I’d like to picture my eyes as the warm tones of the sky setting, what I really think they look like is dirt. Wet earth, molded into the formula of my eye’s iris.
Making up approximately 79 percent of the world’s population, brown eyes are the most common eye color in the world. I’m not mad about it. Some people say that people with brown eyes appear more trustworthy, while others claim that brown eyes are uninteresting due to an overwhelmingly Eurocentric global perspective. Chock full of melanin, I’m told that my eyes are soulful. Yet, at times, I have found myself desiring to strip away the distinct pigments that make up my irises, so that nothing’s left except for a hint of green. Maybe blue? Hazel?
Popular opinion has always favored light-colored eyes because they are more rare, more ephemeral and exotic than the exceedingly common flavor of brown eyes that I, along with most of the world, possess. People often describe how eyes are the window to the soul, and I guess it makes sense that my soul is brown, almost black. I mean, it’s fitting.
My eyes are brown and they look like dirt, but through them, I have developed a perception of the world that suits me. According to my eye doctor, I was born with one eye that’s nearsighted and one eye that’s farsighted, and as a result, I’ve always been unable to fully see the world in 3-D. I started wearing a contact lens sophomore year, and subsequently, my worldview shifted to fit these new circumstances.
Suddenly, the world looked different — clearer, less blurry than before. Even though I still observe the world through the same eyes that have led me to where I am now, I have become aware of how my perspective of the world has altered throughout the past eighteen years of my life. I’ve begun to realize that I don’t need the validation from others that accompanies the romanticization of brown eyes.
They may look like moist earth with a sprinkle of rain, but with the right lighting, they kind of look like pools of swirling caramel with flowing syrup ringed with gold. They are full of life and vitality, filled with the strength of my ancestors that came before me, and resemble the warmth of the sun. They are glazed with anticipation and poise, full of the grace that accompanies the aging bark of a wise oak tree.
When I look at my mom, I can see where our similarities lie, through our similar facial shapes, set eyes, and general demeanor. When I look into her eyes, I can see myself reflected.
In retrospect, I guess brown eyes are kind of beautiful.
Works Cited:
Lafuente, Cat. “The Truth About Brown Eyes.” TheList.com, The List, 9 Aug. 2019, www.thelist.com/161592/the-truth-about-brown-eyes/.