You told me I was beautiful

  • Dates
    2021 - Ongoing
  • Author
  • Locations France, Spain, Lebanon, Egypt

This project explores the struggles of womanhood in the Arab world, focusing on the challenges that women—and I—face in defining our identity and femininity within a society where personal choices are shaped by external opinions and pressures.

Hello, my name is Laura Menassa, I am a photographer based in Beirut, and I am part of WomenPhotograph.

Over time, my camera has become a tool to discover and apprehend the world around me, while being able to maintain a certain distance. Being behind my camera makes it easier for me to interact with others — my way of questioning society and its disruptions.

At first, I was documenting my personal life, my intimacy, or the one I shared with those around me. But I turned it toward the outside, expanding my field of discovery, navigating between personal and public spheres. And I liked to challenge taboos and perceptions around me, by examining the city more closely, my culture, but also my own body. The unseen or unspoken, are where I believe vulnerability becoming a strength. Then, quite a few questions began to surface, about identity, the body, territory, but also time.

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If I had to define myself as a woman, I wouldn’t know where to start, as I don’t know where I belong, as I don’t know where I fit. From an Italian mother and a Lebanese father, I was born and grew up in the suburb of Paris, constantly questioning my identity as a Western-Arab—one who doesn’t look Arab enough, one who is considered French in Lebanon, one who is seen as the Lebanese girl in France.

These questions left me uncomfortable in my own body, as I was the opposite of the perfectly groomed Lebanese woman I had created in my head, and as I inherited features that didn’t associate me with a Western girl. So I decided to live in Lebanon in 2018.

In 2021, while facing challenges in defining my sense of identity and femininity, I began questioning Arab women across Europe and the SWANA region on how they perceive themselves and their bodies, how they navigate beauty standards, and the influence of norms around them. Through many conversations, certain recurring and unspoken themes kept surfacing: judgment, shame around body hair, menstruation, discrimination based on skin color, intimacy, experiences of love, desire, and bodily violence, eating disorders, and a deep longing to feel at home in one's body.

The more women I met, the more I understood that the issue was never just about body stigma—it was the shame ingrained in our culture(s). What should be a personal relationship with our bodies had become a contested space, where external opinions dictated how we should look and be, where the male gaze dominates.

Coming from different countries, cultures, and backgrounds, sometimes with mixed origins, those women and I share common struggles in finding our place and fully embracing our identity as Arab women, while navigating expectations shaped by familial, cultural, and societal pressures.

Three years later, I realised this was not only about observing these women from afar, but about searching for myself through their stories. I had always had the privilege of living outside those rigid social structures, yet never fully escaped the shame they carried. Though I experienced life through a European lens, the wounds were still familiar, as if they were planted deep in our DNA. This project also became my way to reconnect with the roots I was born away from, shaped by my father’s migration during the Lebanese civil war. To hold the shame alongside these women, to understand it, deconstruct it, and slowly let it go.

From hidden wounds to quiet rebellions that shape womanhood, this project serves as a space where the act of being seen becomes a form of healing and resistance, a collective way to fight the rigid expectations and dismantle the taboos and shame around Arab women. Confronting the silence imposed on us and choosing to show, and to exist without compromising ourselves, is our way to reclaim our space and our bodies. To feel, even just a little, that we are not the problem, but rather the ones redefining what should have never been questioned in the first place.

Chronology:

My project began in Madrid in 2021, when I visited my friend Paula, who had suffered from anorexia and once lived with me in Beirut. We shared similar struggles and always encouraged each other to take care of ourselves. In Madrid, for the first time, we were able to share a real and nourishing meal together. Even though Paula has no Arabic roots, she became the starting point of this project.

Back in Lebanon, I began collaborating with Lebanese women, and later received a grant from the Goethe Institute in Lebanon and a Masterclass support from World Press Photo and Samir Kassir Foundation. As the war erupted at the end of 2024, I was only able to travel after the ceasefire, first to Egypt and then to France. In 2025, I repeated the same trajectory.

I have met in total, photographed, or gathered the testimonies of approximately 14 women. Mainly photography (portraits and urban environments, such as graffiti or billboards promoting botox or laser treatments), personal testimonies, writing, and collages. The collages are created from documentation I collect: old advertisements, archival material, and screenshots of social media ads that push women toward body consumption. The photographs were taken in France, Spain, Lebanon, and Egypt.

Every time I meet a new woman, a new topic shows up but my process remains the same: they have freedom over what they want to wear, where they want to be photographed, and how they want to be represented. For their testimonies, they are encouraged to write them down themselves to maintain complete control over their stories. I am currently only able to work in Lebanon, in the hope of receiving further support to meet the women I am already in contact with in Jordan, Morocco, Algeria, Saudi Arabia, and Europe.

In the long term, I wish for this project to become an educational book, mixing contemporary photography, personal testimonies, and historical and cultural components about the societal and political aspects of the diverse societies I am exploring, as well as the themes encountered. Two Lebanese women—a psychologist, and a writer, feminist, and activist—will also contribute to the writing.

Thank you!

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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One day, Paula told me “Looking back and reflecting on my life, I realized that what I regret most is how I placed obstacles in the way of my own femininity. I think it’s connected to my history, my relationship with food. I was afraid of taking on the responsibility of being a woman, thinking it was easier to remain a girl. Now, I still struggle with my body’s appearance—but in the opposite way.

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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While I constantly see billboards about beauty, jewelry for women, permanent hair removal or botox—reinforcing the rigid beauty standards imposed on women, this one was left blank, with only the word"Freedom." In my mind, it felt like a protest—a silent reclaiming of our voices.

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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From Ruwan’s testimony."When Lebanon began to fall apart, when the economy collapsed, when the revolution failed, when the blast shattered our city, I was already unraveling quietly. In a world spinning out of control, where grief and uncertainty clung to everything, not eating gave me a strange, painful sense of order. Disappearing into thinness made me feel powerful.”

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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"Sometimes, I feel like a little child, still dirtying her panties. But why should I feel ashamed of my period? Why should I feel ashamed of my body, of the simple fact of being a woman? In Lebanon, it’s sometimes impossible to find tampons in certain shops. I remember as a teenager, my aunt once told me not to wear them because I would lose my virginity."

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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Rea and Thalia, two Lebanese friends who have been living in Paris for a few years. both have struggled with dismorphophobia, with comments from family or those around them, and with a complex relationship to their image. These shared experiences are also what brought them closer — their eating habits, their past and present relationship to their bodies, to their reflection.

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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A letter to her body: I wanted all of the looks to stop. I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to be skinny.And apparently, you could not give me that. I was so ashamed of myself, and forthe most part, I thought it was because of you - not because of them. I wasn’t readyto deal with the struggles; I just decided I didn’t want you. So I broke up with you."

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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"As a child, I internalised the stereotype of Lebanese women as impeccably groomed, without disgraces hair. Which made me feel the need to hide my hair under long sleeves the whole summer. Body hair was often labeled as 'aib (shame in arabic), associated with a poor hygiene or a lack of femininity."

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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Nour battles Sjögren’s syndrome. Her body’s immune cells attack themselves, causing extreme dryness and redness in large parts of her skin. She said: “For me, it’s more about body image and skin issues as a result of an autoimmune disorder—something that has a lot to do with being a woman, especially a woman from our region and cultures similar to ours.”

© Laura Menassa - Poem written by Nour in Lebanon, addressed to her own skin.
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Poem written by Nour in Lebanon, addressed to her own skin.

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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In school, Nourine experienced discrimination because of her darker skin and curly hair. When we met in Cairo, she chose to take me back to those places—sites tied to difficult memories. Having Sudanese roots, she grew up aware of how her skin tone set her apart. Even within her own family, elders would praise the child with white skin as the “great one.”

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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“My childhood and teenage years were marked by pressure to be the ‘perfect good girl,’ which led very early on to self-image issues. For a long time, I struggled to accept my body, going back and forth between dieting, shame, and dissociation. In Paris, I feel freer, more beautiful in my simplicity — unlike the normative gaze I often feel in Lebanon.”

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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In Lebanon, billboards line the roads like part of the landscape. Most of them target women—promoting plastic surgery, laser hair removal, or facial regeneration procedures. They reflect the obsession with beauty and perfection in our culture, and how deeply normalized these practices have become in a society where appearances come first.

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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"The men I loved made me wish that I looked different. More “beautiful”. I wished for softer hair, lighter skin, healthier body… I forgot my own interpretation of beauty, and that it already exists within my being. This body that God gave me. This body that I constantly learn to love. This body that I gently hold, and its memory that I try to heal.”

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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During my visit to Cairo, I came across a box of old archives in a small shop. I noticed that in several portraits, the eyelashes had been manually drawn onto the photos. This early photo retouching was already reinforcing beauty ideals, subtly altering women’s faces to align with cultural expectations of femininity.

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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Nour, took me to a place she used to visit as a scout and as a teenager—a quiet and tiny forest along a road in Rabieh. As we talked, she told me how her body reacts whenever she feels oppressed. Her throat would turn red and itchy whenever she feels her voice is being silenced. The tree trunks reminded me of scales on the skin, their irregular textures like imperfections we are taught to conceal.

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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"The voluptuous body trend, which emerged alongside the obsession with a sharp jawline, has taken over social media feeds—especially Instagram, where promotion ads for body-sculpting procedures are everywhere. These platforms constantly push unrealistic standards, encouraging vulnerable individuals to alter their bodies to fit a fleeting ideal."

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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“I have realized that not feeling okay in my body is also tied to not wanting to take space. I’ve always been so scared to bother people, of being too much to handle, constantly apologizing for existing. I always wanted to be discreet and quiet. This applies to my body as well, being self-conscious of the physical space I occupy.”

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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"When I visited Paula in Madrid, I spent a week at her apartment. This was one of the first meals we shared after years apart. In Beirut, we used to cook for each other—to remind ourselves to eat and to take care of ourselves."

© Laura Menassa - Collage of different messages I received from women between Morocco, France, Lebanon.
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Collage of different messages I received from women between Morocco, France, Lebanon.

© Laura Menassa - Image from the You told me I was beautiful photography project
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“I struggle to find beauty within myself everyday. Within the body that carries me. The body that I was often told was weak, malnourished, imperfect. I struggle to find love in my imperfections.Growing up i a woman’s body, I was often consumed by the desire to feel beautiful in the eyes of the men I loved. My father, my last lover… When both failed, when both made me feel the opposite of beauty."