Rainbow

Logan Zelenak

Identity and facial differences 

Over the past couple months, I’ve been thinking about identity. Specifically facial differences + identity and what it means to me. I would say my identity surrounding my facial difference has evolved over time. Ups and downs, and twists and turns, leaps and bounds. 

When I was younger, I didn’t want my facial difference to become part of my identity. I wanted to be far from it. As I’ve gotten older, and as I’ve found myself in facial difference activism, I’ve been very proud to have a facial difference. It’s part of me and I am part of it. In some ways it even feels like a superpower of mine. 

However, I’m thinking of all of this again because next week I am getting plastic surgery for my facial difference, which has brought up a lot of interpersonal questions. Does getting plastic surgery mean I don’t love my facial difference? Does it mean I’m ashamed of it? What will other people think about this change? What does it mean to want to change it, does it mean I’m not proud? Does it take the ‘facial difference identity’ away from me? 

Illness and plastic surgery 

I know many others with facial differences have had plastic surgery. This isn’t my first time with plastic surgery either, however it’s the type of plastic surgery that will push my face closer to ‘normal’ (whatever that means). I was born with a vascular anomaly in my left mandible. When I was little this appeared as a reddish-purple bump on my left chin. When I was in my early college years, I got my first plastic surgery to debulk that mound. When I was eight years old, I acquired a long scar ranging from the top of my ear to the bottom of my neck — in a surgery that attempted my vascular anomaly’s removal. Somewhere in those early college years I also got surgery around my scar to lighten it. 

Sixteen year old me would never have imagined that. When I was sixteen, for the first time, plastic surgery was brought up to me by my doctors. It made me feel ashamed, like I wasn’t good enough and needed plastic surgery to change me. I denied it back then. 

In college, it became different. It felt like a choice rather than a cold suggestion. 

New beginnings 

After getting my bachelor’s degree I found a new team of doctors in Boston. They mostly treat my vascular anomaly (which comes with bleeds and all sorts of fun things) but there is a plastic surgeon on my team there. I would go so far as to say he changed my life. He’s the kindest human and has made me feel so comfortable about discussing my face and what it means to me. We’ve discussed how it makes me feel, and what I like and don’t like about it. One day he told me something along the lines of, “If something bothers you and we can change it, then why not change it?” I never thought it could be so simple. 

The first plastic surgery he did on me was revolutionary. My scar tightened my entire neck. I couldn’t look all the way up. He did a surgery to expand the stretch of my scar, and for the first time since I was eight years old, I was able to look up. I could see the trees and the stars. It was amazing. 

The second surgery I got from him was more cosmetic. I struggled a lot with this in therapy. The identity questions started coming up for me here. My condition seemed to be eating away at my face. I had a divot in my left chin. It was always a moot point when strangers mentioned my facial difference. It started to bother me but I kept quiet about it for a few years, until I met my doctor who gave me the courage to step out of my facial difference identity and into a new space. An unexplored space. I thought about what my life might be like if this could be changed. After many months of thinking, I decided to go for it. He would take fat from my hips and inject it into my chin so my facial structure would be more evenly rounded. 

This change was also revolutionary. So many people I knew commented on it (which felt all good and bad and in between). After struggling so much in therapy on whether I wanted this surgery or not, I was pleasantly surprised with the results and couldn’t believe the way my face looked. It felt like gaining back some of the control that was taken away from me for so many years. It felt powerful. It felt meaningful. It felt okay — which I was expecting the least. 

Making choices that feel empowering 

This month I’m going back to Boston to touch up the last plastic surgery. Too much of the fat dissolved back into my body and there is still a little divot there. After again struggling with this decision, I decided to go for it. After so many years, I had finally felt power in having a facial difference *and* I felt power in making changes to that facial difference. My identity doesn’t change because I’ve had plastic surgery. My facial difference isn’t going to completely go away, and I still have my scar. It’s still part of who I am. And even though I’ve had plastic surgery, it doesn’t mean that I loved the previous versions of myself any less. Those versions of me are still part of me and they always will be. 

I’ve found a sense of empowerment in making these decisions. It was liberating to finally have a choice about my face. Not in a way that made me feel ashamed of my face, but in a way that helped me come to terms with the canvas of my own. 

I know I’m privileged to be able to receive plastic surgery. For many people it’s not an option physically or financially. Some people with facial differences choose not to have plastic surgery, some do. I have found peace within my choice and wanted to share that in case others have had similar stories around identity and plastic surgery. It’s nuanced and felt like a gray area for me. But I pushed back the gray for so long and finally found my rainbow. My choice. 

There’s some parts of our identities that we don’t have a choice about. Most of my facial difference isn’t a choice — though it is my superpower, and having plastic surgery doesn’t change that. 

Author’s note: It’s been a few months since the surgery and part of it didn’t seem to work because I developed scar tissues. But it’s still kind of early to tell. However, I still have a divot in my chin. While disappointing, this brings me to radical acceptance of my face and situation. Not every surgery is going to work how we want it to, and I think it’s okay to be disappointed if it doesn’t. At the same time, my rainbow extends further than my choice, it is part of who I am – scar, divot, redness, lopsided smile and all. Just the way I am. 

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