Somewhere between middle school and my first real job, I decided my brows had to be tamed, plucked, threaded, waxed—polished within an inch of their natural existence. Because that’s what you did.
Keeping that area groomed meant you had your life together and gave off the vibe of that girl. At that time, the person I was dating made it feel like that was the only way to be a baddie. Truthfully I never quite got the hype—it all felt a bit conformist.
But alas, I’ve entered what I like to refer to as my “Virgin Brows Era” —and, it truly feels like the glow-up I indefinitely needed. Letting them grow back in—wild, uneven, beautifully soft—has been a quiet rebellion. It’s a return to something more instinctive, more raw. And maybe in a sense more me. They remind me of the version of myself before I ever touched them—before I felt pressured to have an arch that could cut glass.
There’s something real and very intimate about leaving your brows untouched. They feel personal, like a detail I stopped trying to perfect. In a world that pressures women to refine every inch especially the face—kind of a rebellious statement to just let them be. Virgin brows are my way of saying, “I’m good as I am,” without having to verbalize it.
I look in the mirror and see a softness that doesn’t beg for approval. A face that looks like it belongs to someone who knows herself. And the best part about it is I didn’t even need a trip to the brow bar to get there.
So, yes—they’re full, a little unstructured, and exactly how I like them right now. No waxing, minimal tweezing. Just embracing what’s natural and feeling more confident than ever. Letting them grow back in is the softest power move I’ve ever made.