Bea Dero is a second generation British-Iranian photographer exploring Southwest Asian and North African diasporic individuals and communities

The Guardian

“So when are you getting your nose job?” was a question 11-year-old me would often hear at my Iranian family gatherings in London. I had started saving my pocket money for the procedure when I was about seven. I would spend my evenings after school pressing down hard on the hump on my nose until the skin went red. I would push the tip up and flare my nostrils the way the YouTube video on how to make your nose smaller taught me. I would sleep with tape holding the tip of my nose up, praying for changes in the morning.

It is common for people with Iranian heritage to have noses that are slightly bigger relative to the rest of their features, with a pronounced bridge and a downward droop. Different to the more commonly idealised smaller, straight or sloped and upturned western nose. With continuous exposure to western beauty standards through the media and celebrities, surgical alterations to the nose became a widespread and longstanding trend in Iranian society. Post-revolution, it became a sign of status and a way for women to align themselves with their admiration for western society and its apparent progressiveness. With time, men got in on the trend too. It has become a rite of passage, where parents will typically even “gift” the procedure to their children.

Outside of my family and culture, western magazines and teen movies never featured girls like me. None of them had noses like mine. These girls didn’t have parents who struggled with English. They didn’t wrestle with two cultural identities. I ended up admiring people who weren’t fully like me and distanced myself from my own heritage.

When I did see people who looked distinctly Iranian on TV, they were terrorists or depicted as victims of regressive lifestyles and values. Growing up, my immigrant family, who sought refuge and a better life in the UK, taught me that associating with our origins would hold me back, due to their own experiences of discrimination. It was no surprise that by the time I was 17 years old, I booked in for my nose job. We are so brainwashed into believing we are inadequate that it’s been normalised to physically break down the features passed on to us by our ancestors in order to present as something that is deemed better.

But as I’ve grown older, I have begun to unlearn these harmful narratives, slowly decolonising my mind. I began photographing people from heritages similar to mine. Collaborating with creatives Roxanna Vatandoust and Charlize Miradi, I photographed people from the Middle East and north Africa with non-western noses, paying homage to our side profiles and the history that we carry, through generations, in our faces. We ensured that all the details of our images (jewellery, hair, makeup, styling) felt beautiful and regal so that, for once, we could see our side profiles in an empowering format. Seeing these homages to the features I hated on myself felt cathartic. I realised that the thing I had learned to hate is where I hold my power.

I also began to take photographs that represented a third culture, one that blends eastern and western influences, which allowed me to see myself as a whole. Representation is a key factor to how we perceive, so I have taken on the responsibility of creating the works that I needed to see as a child (and still need to see), with the aims of empowering people like me and future generations to love themselves. If we aren’t exposed to the beauty, joy and heart of our people –in media, art, films and advertising – we will always be diverted from all that there is to love and champion in ourselves and our roots.

Just through creating my work, my head turns when I see a big, interesting-shaped nose. I’m attracted to it. If you have already had your nose job, I see you, and you are beautiful too. This is not about big nose v small nose, it’s about breaking the culture that led us to feel we needed to change in the first place.

For this reason, despite at the time still wanting the smaller, sloped nose, 17-year-old me decided against going ahead with her nose-job booking. My extended family were a little confused and some often protest against my choice, but I stand committed to this mission to help myself, my community and new generations feel empowered. I am addressing the beautiful, multi-faceted nature of our communities while simultaneously pushing against the global current of cosmetic surgery. By embracing our natural features and cultural heritage, we are redefining beauty on our own terms. We can lead by way of example for one another. When you wear your own features with love, you signal to the next person that they should love themselves too.