A Delicate Balance

As a teenager, Helena lee discovered how makeup was a means to reconcile her Chinese heritage with a Western education, while exploring different ideals of beauty

- Helena Lee

I HAVE BEEN MISTAKEN for many nationalities. In Malaysia, where my maternal ancestors lived, strangers ask if I am Japanese. On a week’s holiday in Vietnam, a guide in Hanoi leads us down the cobbled arteries of the city in search of the perfect coffee, and wonders whether I am Korean. A Chinese odyssey takes me to Hong Kong, Shanghai and Beijing; I know my skin is burnished from my wont to walk in the glare of the sun, and I’m wearing my customary cat’s-eye slick of jet-black eyeliner. The photographer I am with notices that local passers-by, who are invariably as pale as the flesh of white peaches, stare without reserve as I walk past. He is complimentary as to the reason, but of course I know better. It’s because they can’t quite place me. Or rather, they can’t quite place my face, which is clearly East Asian but, within that region, it seems, indefinable.

When I glance in the mirror I take in my features: almost imperceptible double eyelids sheltering small brown eyes; gently sloping cheeks — not as angular as Western ones are; a roundness to my nose; full lips. Though one would be quick to say my hair is black, there are nuances to this hue, and on a bright day, the sun reveals the true character of each of its strands, which collectively radiate a burnt sienna.