I Am My Own Icon: Visibility, Art and Becoming the Muse

I just finished watching The Andy Warhol Diaries on Netflix and while I have many thoughts on the miniseries, one thing stood out to me. It was immediately apparent that Andy Warhol carried insecurities about his looks throughout his life. He was the son of immigrants who was not born with the traditionally acceptable American WASP look. Furthermore, he was a gay man living during a time when being gay was just something you didn’t speak of. Despite all of this, and despite not being fully embraced in the art community, he went on to create somewhat of a counterculture that went on to become a staple of American pop culture.

As a skinny gay man with a foreign looking nose, Andy Warhol did not see himself as a traditionally beautiful person, but he still created an icon out of his own image. He understood image, performance and presence and made himself part of the art. Watching his story play out led me to think of my own story. It led me to ask myself: what if I am art too? 

Although I was considered to be a pretty girl growing up, I never felt comfortable inside my own body. For one, it was made noticeably clear to me that the beauty wouldn’t last. I was told as a young girl that one day, my nose and hips would spread, my tummy would grow, and my boobs would sag. I was told that I’d get older and have kids and would never lose the weight. Being a short, fat black girl in a society where long legs and alabaster skin was what was desired gave me a “why bother” mindset at a fairly young age. To sprinkle a little salt in the wound, the very people who told me that I would get fat when I got older acted shocked, appalled, and amused when their prophecies came to life.

Internalizing these judgments contributed to a crippling fear of being visible, of taking up space and being seen. 

My saving grace and turning point has been my unwavering commitment to personal development, therapy, and healing. In every area of my life, I have been able to look back at my younger self through the eyes of love and understanding. Those people who spoke such ugly words towards my self image did not have the best views of themselves, and growing up in the 80s and 90s when “heroin chic” was what was fashionable, I couldn’t exactly blame them. The wonderful thing about 2025 is that we’ve become better with seeing the beauty of humanity in all forms and stages. I studied the lives of some of the most beautiful people in pop culture and all their images were curated. Norma Jean Baker became Marilyn Monroe. Vicki Lynn Marshall became Anna Nicole Smith. Regular people were born into this life and made the choice to become iconic.

When I look at myself, even with the doubts and insecurities, I had to acknowledge that I was following suit. I wasn’t born with insecurities. Those insecurities were passed down to me. The magic and beauty that I was born with was something that always managed to shine through. It was something that could never be taken away from me, and whenever I decided to draw a self-portrait, take a selfie, or speak to a crowd, I am saying to myself and to the world that I deserve to be seen.

Ultimately, being visible is about more than what you look like. It’s about healing, freedom, and inspiration. It’s about knowing that your soul radiates. It’s about honoring your voice and your sense of self. The Notorious BIG was one of the most influential rappers of the 90s and despite his unconventional looks, he had multiple women fighting over him. The very handsome Larenz Tate played the role of teenage heartthrob and bigamist Frankie Lymon in the movie Why Do Fools Fall in Love. However, millennials everywhere were shocked to discover that the original Frankie Lymon was not a traditionally beautiful man. Maybe it’s time for us to decide what beauty means for ourselves. Maybe we don’t need permission to be muses – we just need the courage to see ourselves as we are: worthy, powerful, already iconic.