My parents chose my every feature. They chose my deep, icy blue eyes. They chose my rose-tinged creamy skin. They chose everything, down to my hair that fell down in swirls.
I am perfect. I am beautiful. I could not be anything less. Especially today.
I am perfect. I am beautiful. I could not be anything less. Especially today.
I quickly take my vitamins before I hear my door swing open.
“Danielle!” I turn to my doorway to see my mother. Her maroon halter dress contrasted with her milky skin. Her cobalt eyes bore into me.
“Everyone is going to be waiting for us if we don’t arrive soon. Hurry up!” She slams the door again and I sigh.
Right. I could not leave let them down. Especially now.
A purple banner read, “JACKSON’S DESIGNER CLINIC OPENING”. Reporters snapped the quick shots of our new building. Crews came with their cameras ready, with many ready to broadcast. Cars after cars filled the streets. I take a deep breath. Looking uncomfortable would make the crowd uncomfortable.
The trumpets blare, and the crowd immediately descends into silence. We stand up. My parents walk up to the front with me trailing behind them. My father wears his crimson suit that compliments his cool onyx skin, wearing his confident smirk. My mom wraps her arm around his as they take their place.
Here’s the big moment. I swallow.
“Today, we have gathered here for a historical reason. We have progressed so far as a civilization. Me and my husband, are here to open our commercial, designer clinic for babies, my mother announces, followed by a roaring clap and hollers.
My father signals me, as I move to the front and people murmur. My smile feels like it’s being held by a string.
“This is our daughter, which you may know, as the first designer baby. She is biologically ours, but we chose every feature to make her the most beautiful person. Soon, you all will be able to the same.” My father says, and the crowd bursts into an uproar.
Reporters scream out questions, and people look at me with wide eyes. I step forward, and take center stage. This was my moment now. Here and now. I get to show everyone how beautiful I am, how important I am.
This is my moment.
I take the microphone from my parents and clear my throat. “Designer babies are amazing human beings; human beings that are no different from others except for our appearance. Clearly, I am evidence of this. Despite being created by my parents’ clinic; I have grown to be an amazing person.”
My parents smile and clap at my words, leading the crowd to clap and whistle at my statements. I smiled, posing for the cameras. This is what it is to be beautiful. To be adored, and to be loved.
I wave to the audience and throw a kiss-
“Stop this! What these people are doing is illegal!”
A man with a white coat, hobbles through the multitude of people. People let him through, confused with the sudden outburst. I’m more offended if anything. More nonsensical people saying whatever they want.
My parents’ faces still have their taut smiles, but I can tell how they really feel. They want this man gone just as much as I do.
“Excuse me sir, who are you?” I speak firmly, and the man seems to peer at me.
“You, little girl, are something that should have never been created.” He merely says, and turns away from me as quickly as he looked at me.
“Do you honestly think that choosing your child’s features will not lead to problems? They are capitalizing babies! Look, they’re already advertising their own daughter!” The man gestures the crowd to look at me as he walks closer to the stage.
My parents are signaling someone, probably security.
My heart is pounding. “Sir, I am not a product-”
“Lies! All this Jackson family will tell you are lies, ladies and gentleman! How did they manage to pass so many laws to create this thing? Think about it. She was made to be a doll. How do we even know that she can function properly?” The man yells, and I cannot believe what I see next.
People are shaking their heads, agreeing with him. The crowd that had so desperately loved us, now wanted to burn us at the stake. This could not be happening. This man would not lead a witch hunt on us.
“I can assure you I am healthy-”
“She probably takes pills or shots to maintain herself! You honestly think these designer babies are perfected? They have to have defects-”
Security finally grabbed the man, as he began to kick and scream.
“You will all see! You will all see!”
Reporters began to surround the stage, flashing their cameras and sticking out their microphones to us. My parents grabbed me and steered me away from the lights that mocked us, that wanted to overthrow us.
We could only turn back and flee.
Our return to our mansion consisted of constant phone calls. My father would pick a phone call from one investor, my mom the other. Their phones were buzzing and buzzing, and my feed showed the exact same chaos.
Our name was marred because of that man. How could he even dare I suggest I was some product? Or some doll?
I huff. I am perfectly healthy. I’m perfectly fine.
Right?
I was born beautiful, and I did not have defects.
My eyes are drawn to my vitamins in my purse. What if…? What if these weren’t really vitamins?
My mother knocks on my bedroom door when I’m about to go to bed. I’m sitting on the bed when she pokes her head in. “Danielle, make you take your vitamins before you go to bed alright?”
I nod, and smile. “Of course I will.”
My mother nods her head, and shuts the door. I hold my vitamins in my hand, staring at the cylindrical shaped pills. My hand moves without me, stuffing it underneath my pillow.
I know I am beautiful. I am. I know these pills have nothing to do with me being beautiful, and nothing would happen if I stop taking them. Nothing at all.
When I go to the dining room, I find it empty as usual. As I walk down the steps, each step blurs into each other, spinning in circles-
“Miss Danielle!”
One of our butlers, Ramon, is holding me. I look around as shapes come into vision. I’m not on the staircase anymore.
“Miss Danielle, you suddenly lost your balance on the stairs. Are you alright?”
In response to his question, I merely look around. Colors blend into each other, and then refocusing with clarity. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Did you call my parents?”
Ramon frowns, and then avoids my eyes. “I called, but I was re-directed to their secretary. They’re currently trying to do damage control from yesterday.”
What did I think would happen? That they would be here? “I understand. Please send breakfast up to my room. I can take it from here.”
Ramon merely nods and goes to get my breakfast. I stand up as my legs tremble, and I grab unto the railing and climb up stairs.
The next days I spend are in my bed. Or at least, I think it’s been days. My arms ache, and everything seems so blurry.
I go over to the mirror and look at myself. Pieces of my face look like they’re dripping down. My heart stops as I touch my face, and it feels like clay.
I’m hideous. So hideous. A sob comes out from me, and the tears begin to flow.
“I need to stay beautiful. Because I am beautiful. I’m still beautiful.” The words are trapped in my mouth, but I push them out.
I take my comb and begin to brush my hair, the same as always. Everything was the same as always. My heart stops when I see the floor.
My hair. My beautiful hair, everywhere. There was so much of it. I try to grab all of it, grab any of it, any of it-
“Miss Danielle! You need to take your breakfast. You’ll be malnourished, and your parents cannot be troubled even further.”
Ramon. Of course it was only Ramon.
I hold the clumps of hair in my hand tightly, so tightly I’m sure red marks will be left upon me. I do not move.
“Leave it there!”
“But Miss Danielle-”
“Leave it!”
The next time I’m awake, my mother sits by my bedside, stroking my hair. I jump, and look at her up and down.
“What’s happening?” My voice is hoarse, as if haven’t spoken for days.
“Honey, you’ve been sick for a while. You've been having so many high fevers, and you look terrible," my mom says, and I keep my mouth shut.
I can’t let her know I’m not taking the pills.
“Well, we’re going on a business trip for a few days. We’ll be back very soon, and then we’ll be doing an appearance at one of our investor’s restaurants…” My mother is still talking, but my thoughts wander.
Of course, another meeting. I just wanted…. sun. Sunlight. And when was the last time I laughed? The last time I even went out with my parents for fun? When…did it all go wrong? When?
“…Ramon is going to serve your food. Make sure to eat it all, okay?” My mom pats me, before exiting my room.
I can’t even bother to give her a reaction, or say goodbye. Ramon enters a second later, with food on a tray. He puts the tray on my lap, and as he is about to leave, he pauses.
“Just so you know, Miss. I did not tamper with your food.” Ramon says. I give him a weak smile.
“Thank you.”
Ramon merely nods before exiting.
So they wanted to put something in food. Fine, I wouldn’t eat then. Let’s see how they’ll react when their product begins to die. I’m beautiful. I don’t need anyone, or anything, to be beautiful.
Hours. Minutes. So many, many days. I can’t tell time anymore.
My hands shake, and I curl up in a ball on my bed. What was happening to me? It couldn’t have anything to do with the vitamins. It didn’t have anything to do with the vitamins. I am perfect. There is no flaw with me. I am perfect. I am beautiful.
“The mirror. The mirror.” My body hits the floor, when I try to get out the bed. But I don’t care. I don’t care.
I need to get to the mirror. I need the mirror. To show I’m beautiful. My muscles twitch and spaz, but I need the mirror. The mirror. Colors begin to mix together, everything is a blur. But…where is the mirror?
“B-Beautiful. I n-need to know I’m…”
I smile, as the calming white comes to take me. It’s so beautiful. So very beautiful.
Then it envelopes me.
“Danielle!” I turn to my doorway to see my mother. Her maroon halter dress contrasted with her milky skin. Her cobalt eyes bore into me.
“Everyone is going to be waiting for us if we don’t arrive soon. Hurry up!” She slams the door again and I sigh.
Right. I could not leave let them down. Especially now.
A purple banner read, “JACKSON’S DESIGNER CLINIC OPENING”. Reporters snapped the quick shots of our new building. Crews came with their cameras ready, with many ready to broadcast. Cars after cars filled the streets. I take a deep breath. Looking uncomfortable would make the crowd uncomfortable.
The trumpets blare, and the crowd immediately descends into silence. We stand up. My parents walk up to the front with me trailing behind them. My father wears his crimson suit that compliments his cool onyx skin, wearing his confident smirk. My mom wraps her arm around his as they take their place.
Here’s the big moment. I swallow.
“Today, we have gathered here for a historical reason. We have progressed so far as a civilization. Me and my husband, are here to open our commercial, designer clinic for babies, my mother announces, followed by a roaring clap and hollers.
My father signals me, as I move to the front and people murmur. My smile feels like it’s being held by a string.
“This is our daughter, which you may know, as the first designer baby. She is biologically ours, but we chose every feature to make her the most beautiful person. Soon, you all will be able to the same.” My father says, and the crowd bursts into an uproar.
Reporters scream out questions, and people look at me with wide eyes. I step forward, and take center stage. This was my moment now. Here and now. I get to show everyone how beautiful I am, how important I am.
This is my moment.
I take the microphone from my parents and clear my throat. “Designer babies are amazing human beings; human beings that are no different from others except for our appearance. Clearly, I am evidence of this. Despite being created by my parents’ clinic; I have grown to be an amazing person.”
My parents smile and clap at my words, leading the crowd to clap and whistle at my statements. I smiled, posing for the cameras. This is what it is to be beautiful. To be adored, and to be loved.
I wave to the audience and throw a kiss-
“Stop this! What these people are doing is illegal!”
A man with a white coat, hobbles through the multitude of people. People let him through, confused with the sudden outburst. I’m more offended if anything. More nonsensical people saying whatever they want.
My parents’ faces still have their taut smiles, but I can tell how they really feel. They want this man gone just as much as I do.
“Excuse me sir, who are you?” I speak firmly, and the man seems to peer at me.
“You, little girl, are something that should have never been created.” He merely says, and turns away from me as quickly as he looked at me.
“Do you honestly think that choosing your child’s features will not lead to problems? They are capitalizing babies! Look, they’re already advertising their own daughter!” The man gestures the crowd to look at me as he walks closer to the stage.
My parents are signaling someone, probably security.
My heart is pounding. “Sir, I am not a product-”
“Lies! All this Jackson family will tell you are lies, ladies and gentleman! How did they manage to pass so many laws to create this thing? Think about it. She was made to be a doll. How do we even know that she can function properly?” The man yells, and I cannot believe what I see next.
People are shaking their heads, agreeing with him. The crowd that had so desperately loved us, now wanted to burn us at the stake. This could not be happening. This man would not lead a witch hunt on us.
“I can assure you I am healthy-”
“She probably takes pills or shots to maintain herself! You honestly think these designer babies are perfected? They have to have defects-”
Security finally grabbed the man, as he began to kick and scream.
“You will all see! You will all see!”
Reporters began to surround the stage, flashing their cameras and sticking out their microphones to us. My parents grabbed me and steered me away from the lights that mocked us, that wanted to overthrow us.
We could only turn back and flee.
Our return to our mansion consisted of constant phone calls. My father would pick a phone call from one investor, my mom the other. Their phones were buzzing and buzzing, and my feed showed the exact same chaos.
Our name was marred because of that man. How could he even dare I suggest I was some product? Or some doll?
I huff. I am perfectly healthy. I’m perfectly fine.
Right?
I was born beautiful, and I did not have defects.
My eyes are drawn to my vitamins in my purse. What if…? What if these weren’t really vitamins?
My mother knocks on my bedroom door when I’m about to go to bed. I’m sitting on the bed when she pokes her head in. “Danielle, make you take your vitamins before you go to bed alright?”
I nod, and smile. “Of course I will.”
My mother nods her head, and shuts the door. I hold my vitamins in my hand, staring at the cylindrical shaped pills. My hand moves without me, stuffing it underneath my pillow.
I know I am beautiful. I am. I know these pills have nothing to do with me being beautiful, and nothing would happen if I stop taking them. Nothing at all.
When I go to the dining room, I find it empty as usual. As I walk down the steps, each step blurs into each other, spinning in circles-
“Miss Danielle!”
One of our butlers, Ramon, is holding me. I look around as shapes come into vision. I’m not on the staircase anymore.
“Miss Danielle, you suddenly lost your balance on the stairs. Are you alright?”
In response to his question, I merely look around. Colors blend into each other, and then refocusing with clarity. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Did you call my parents?”
Ramon frowns, and then avoids my eyes. “I called, but I was re-directed to their secretary. They’re currently trying to do damage control from yesterday.”
What did I think would happen? That they would be here? “I understand. Please send breakfast up to my room. I can take it from here.”
Ramon merely nods and goes to get my breakfast. I stand up as my legs tremble, and I grab unto the railing and climb up stairs.
The next days I spend are in my bed. Or at least, I think it’s been days. My arms ache, and everything seems so blurry.
I go over to the mirror and look at myself. Pieces of my face look like they’re dripping down. My heart stops as I touch my face, and it feels like clay.
I’m hideous. So hideous. A sob comes out from me, and the tears begin to flow.
“I need to stay beautiful. Because I am beautiful. I’m still beautiful.” The words are trapped in my mouth, but I push them out.
I take my comb and begin to brush my hair, the same as always. Everything was the same as always. My heart stops when I see the floor.
My hair. My beautiful hair, everywhere. There was so much of it. I try to grab all of it, grab any of it, any of it-
“Miss Danielle! You need to take your breakfast. You’ll be malnourished, and your parents cannot be troubled even further.”
Ramon. Of course it was only Ramon.
I hold the clumps of hair in my hand tightly, so tightly I’m sure red marks will be left upon me. I do not move.
“Leave it there!”
“But Miss Danielle-”
“Leave it!”
The next time I’m awake, my mother sits by my bedside, stroking my hair. I jump, and look at her up and down.
“What’s happening?” My voice is hoarse, as if haven’t spoken for days.
“Honey, you’ve been sick for a while. You've been having so many high fevers, and you look terrible," my mom says, and I keep my mouth shut.
I can’t let her know I’m not taking the pills.
“Well, we’re going on a business trip for a few days. We’ll be back very soon, and then we’ll be doing an appearance at one of our investor’s restaurants…” My mother is still talking, but my thoughts wander.
Of course, another meeting. I just wanted…. sun. Sunlight. And when was the last time I laughed? The last time I even went out with my parents for fun? When…did it all go wrong? When?
“…Ramon is going to serve your food. Make sure to eat it all, okay?” My mom pats me, before exiting my room.
I can’t even bother to give her a reaction, or say goodbye. Ramon enters a second later, with food on a tray. He puts the tray on my lap, and as he is about to leave, he pauses.
“Just so you know, Miss. I did not tamper with your food.” Ramon says. I give him a weak smile.
“Thank you.”
Ramon merely nods before exiting.
So they wanted to put something in food. Fine, I wouldn’t eat then. Let’s see how they’ll react when their product begins to die. I’m beautiful. I don’t need anyone, or anything, to be beautiful.
Hours. Minutes. So many, many days. I can’t tell time anymore.
My hands shake, and I curl up in a ball on my bed. What was happening to me? It couldn’t have anything to do with the vitamins. It didn’t have anything to do with the vitamins. I am perfect. There is no flaw with me. I am perfect. I am beautiful.
“The mirror. The mirror.” My body hits the floor, when I try to get out the bed. But I don’t care. I don’t care.
I need to get to the mirror. I need the mirror. To show I’m beautiful. My muscles twitch and spaz, but I need the mirror. The mirror. Colors begin to mix together, everything is a blur. But…where is the mirror?
“B-Beautiful. I n-need to know I’m…”
I smile, as the calming white comes to take me. It’s so beautiful. So very beautiful.
Then it envelopes me.
—Phoebe angaye, 17
Phoebe Angaye is a senior that attends American International School of Abuja in Nigeria. Phoebe is a Nigerian-American who was born in the US, but mainly schools in Nigeria. She has won a Silver Key from the Scholastic Arts and Writing Awards Competition.
