Last Updated on 2nd March 2022 by Caroline Haye
I have been thinking about the concept of “visible difference”. The term has crept into our language over the past few years. And it strikes me as infinitely more positive and inclusive than its older cousin “disfigurement”. And yet I don’t think I have ever really considered until now even asking the question… Does vitiligo count as a visible difference?
What is disfigurement?
Today some people would consider the word to be offensive and politically incorrect. Most dictionaries tell us it means something that “spoils” a person’s appearance. But then we have to ask ourselves what we mean by “spoil”? Surely that rather depends on our personal tastes, point of view, upbringing, culture, and so on. Fashions, attitudes and perceptions are always changing too. I have no doubt that my grandparents’ generation would have considered a nose ring disfiguring. And for a woman to have a tattoo would have been unthinkable. So I really don’t think there can be any meaningful consensus on what spoils a person’s appearance.
What do we mean by visible difference?
Similarly, there is no clear cut definition of visible difference. It is a broad term which generally applies to conditions and injuries that noticeably alter appearance. But, strictly speaking, it could describe anyone who looks at all out of the ordinary. And, since what we consider to be ordinary varies from one person to the next, it makes a definition hard to determine. After all, we all look different. Thank goodness for that. If we didn’t, we’d have a pretty hard time figuring out who was who. And we’d all probably end up going home with the wrong family members at the end of each day!
Some people define “different” as being anything that is not commonplace. On this basis an individual with an exceptionally beautiful shade of green eyes could be described as different. Others might think of anyone who looks significantly unlike themselves as “different”. If you take this view, and you happen to have vitiligo, this would mean that everyone else who does not have white spots on their skin has a visible difference.
The beauty of imperfection
Another reason why the terms “disfigured” and “visibly different” are so open to individual interpretation is because the whole concept comes down to a matter of degree. At what point does a physical characteristic become sufficiently noticeable to be described as “visible”?
A small facial scar or a mole may be noticeable but does not necessarily make a person unattractive to others. In fact it can do the opposite. A small imperfection can sometimes highlight the beauty surrounding it. You only have to think of Marilyn Monroe’s and Cindy Crawford’s “beauty spots”.
Many cultures embrace the idea of the beauty of imperfection. Both Navajo and Islamic artists deliberately incorporate small defects into their works of art to reflect their belief that only God is perfect. And the Japanese concept of Wabi-Sabi embraces the idea that the blemishes and flaws found in nature are an intrinsic part of its beauty.
But a large, red scar or birthmark that draws the eye away from the rest of a person’s features is obviously far more visible. And, in the context of vitiligo, a few small flecks of white might not be very conspicuous. Even total depigmentation might not attract attention since the skin colour would appear uniform. But larger white patches, and especially those on individuals with darker skin, stand out much more.
Feeling visibly different
Whether or not others describe you as disfigured or visibly different, is much less important than whether you feel as if you are. I never wanted to stand out in a crowd so I hid my white patches. But just because I didn’t look visibly different to others did not mean that I didn’t feel it. Actually I did. The psychological effects of vitiligo, for me, were often quite severe.
There was nothing I wished for more than to feel “normal” and to look ordinary under my clothes and make-up. Now I think to myself, fancy that – actually wanting to look ordinary! Not only that, but I can remember thinking to myself that I would rather be penniless and living on the street if I could just wake up one morning and find that my vitiligo had just been a bad dream. That sounds crazy, I know. But I really meant it at the time.
Now that my white patches have all but disappeared, I look as “normal” as I ever did. But the big change is that I no longer feel visibly different on the inside. Now, my self-image is no longer at odds with my outer appearance. Maybe this is why I am able to view the subject with a healthier perspective than I used to. I now appreciate that there are more important things in life than whether or not I look any different from the majority of other people.
Invisible similarity
So, does vitiligo count as a visible difference? I think that this is for each of us to answer for ourselves. Like beauty, it is in the eye of the beholder. It depends on the other person’s individual perception. And, more importantly, it depends on our own self-perception. Disfigurement and visible difference are simply labels. One is more inclusive and affirming than the other. But they are both just ways of describing how we view others and how we feel about ourselves.
It seems to me that labels can be useful shorthand. They can convey meaning and, if their language is positive, they can even alter prejudices. But they certainly shouldn’t define us. We are all visible, we are all different. Everyone is flawed and everyone possesses beauty. Contemplating these truths helps us realise that what unites us is far more important than what makes us different. So the next time I notice another person who looks significantly different from me, or from most of the people around me, I shall not be thinking about their visible difference. I shall be looking for our invisible similarity.
