Ladies, let’s talk about it. Some of us are born with soft, delicate features—the kind that make people want to shield us from harm, offer us their jackets, or at the very least, swipe right with reckless abandon. And then, there’s us. The women with strong faces.
Not ugly faces, let’s be clear. Just… faces that make men wonder if we’ve ever won a bar fight or clotheslined a guy for disrespecting us. Faces that suggest we could carry them over the threshold instead of the other way around. Faces that say, “I dare you to try and leave me on read.”
The “You Look Like My Gym Coach” Effect
We can’t help it. Some of us have jawlines so sharp they could slice through emotional unavailability. Some of us have cheekbones that look like they belong to a Viking warlord. And let’s not even talk about those of us with brows so naturally intimidating, we make men question their life choices before they even approach.
The results?
- The “Hey, bro” treatment. Men respect us. A lot. Like, too much. To the point where they would rather dap us up than date us.
- The double take. The moment a man realizes he’s oddly attracted to us but is also vaguely concerned that we could take him in a wrestling match.
- The immediate assumption that we are mad all the time. We’re not! This is just our resting battle face!
Pretty? Or Just Ready to Defend a Kingdom?
When we do get compliments, they’re often… unique.
- “Wow, you have such a strong bone structure!” (Ah, yes, because nothing sets the mood like reminding a woman that her face could be used as scaffolding.)
- “You have the presence of someone who could lead an army.” (Thank you? But also, where’s my husband?)
- “I bet you never cry.” (Sir, I cried this morning watching a commercial about a watercolor painted bird being trapped in cage. But okay.)
To be clear, it’s not our fault that we look exactly like the female version of our dads, broad linebacker shoulders and all. We were here before the “big back” movement. I often complain about how I wish I had my mom’s delicate features and her dainty little feet. What I did get? A handsome jawline, yes… handsome and probably the longest feet to be on a girl my height. It’s quite unfair. I literally wear the same size shoe as my 6’3 brother. It also doesn’t help that I don’t have a rotund backside something that could attract ‘the male gaze.’ I’m a bit top heavy which, thank God, because no one could mistake me for a man unless my back is to them (flat backside remember), they’re blind (they’d have to be to miss these things), or just being an asshole.
The Struggle of Finding a Man Who Isn’t Scared
The real challenge? Finding a man secure enough to handle a strong-faced queen. Because let’s be real—some men want a woman who looks like she needs them. Meanwhile, we look like we could chop wood and build a cabin before dinner.
We need a man who:
- Isn’t scared when we make direct eye contact.
- Won’t call us “intimidating” just because we don’t giggle at unfunny jokes.
- Doesn’t assume we’ll arm-wrestle him for dominance (unless it’s foreplay, in which case… let’s talk).
But Listen, We Age Like Fine Wine
The silver lining? We don’t really cut ourselves out of attractiveness by 30. Our faces are built for longevity. Delicate beauties may age earlier unless… you’re black (seriously us blacks really get on my nerves with this lack of aging thing), but us strong-faced ones? We grow into majestic, untouchable forces of nature.
When I was 25, one of my sister’s (beautiful woman everyone says so) friend’s came to our house to fix our HVAC and in my conversation with him he questioned who was older between myself and my sister. She’s older by 17 years because I came REALLY late to the party but that’s another story for another time. I told him and he actually said… that I looked like I was 35. Just what I wanted to hear at 25 from the opposite sex right? Right. Honestly, it hurt to hear that. I can’t help that I look older. Here I am over 40 now… and I still look 35 so I guess that’s my revenge because he looks 80 (black cracking justice feels so awesome).
In saying that, by 40 we look like we should be wearing power suits and running multinational corporations. By 50, we have entered our goddess era. And by 60? We’ve officially transcended into the realm of “mysterious older woman with a past,” which is honestly the dream. Our faces are so strong that it’s hard to tell what our actual age is. The polite term I believe is, timeless.
So, to all my strong-faced sisters out there: stay patient. The right man will come along—one who sees your chiseled jawline, your piercing gaze, and your incredibly structured features and says, “That’s the woman I want to build a life with.” Or, at the very least, the woman he wants protecting him in a zombie apocalypse. I mean to be honest, I think my guy is in another timeline or something because he’s definitely not here and he sure as hell seems to be directionally challenged.
In any case, there’s hope for someone somewhere. Presumably.
