I've always had respect for goth culture and fashion. And

Hear, O seekers of expression and beauty, the words of Jenna Ortega, who declared: “I've always had respect for goth culture and fashion. And oftentimes they'll shave or bleach their brows so that they can do whatever shapes they want. Brows are so big on the face. I feel like you could really make yourself look different and interesting in doing something like that.” Within these words lies not merely a comment on style, but a meditation upon identity, transformation, and creative rebellion. For Ortega, as for the ancients who painted their bodies and adorned their forms, the act of altering one’s appearance is a declaration of inner truth—a way of shaping the visible world to match the soul that burns beneath it.

From the dawn of civilization, humankind has expressed meaning through appearance. The Egyptians, with their darkened eyes and shaped brows, sought not vanity but power—the power to command presence and to embody the divine. The Celts painted their bodies with blue woad before battle, and the Japanese samurai wore lacquered masks to transform fear into awe. So too, the gothic aesthetic, to which Ortega pays homage, is not merely about darkness, but about freedom through form—a rejection of the ordinary, a celebration of the strange, and a communion with emotion unbound by convention.

When Ortega speaks of shaving or bleaching one’s brows, she is not praising mere fashion; she is recognizing the courage to reinvent the self. The brow, she says, is “so big on the face”—it frames the identity the world perceives. To alter it is to reclaim control of that identity, to defy the mirror that dictates how one should look. In this act of defiance lies a sacred power—the power of self-creation, which the poets of old called art, and which every true artist must practice not only with their hands, but with their being.

Consider the story of David Bowie, who, like a god of metamorphosis, shed identities as serpents shed skin. In each transformation—from Ziggy Stardust to the Thin White Duke—he dared to remake himself without apology. To some, his changes seemed strange or excessive; to others, they were revelations of human possibility. Like the gothic reshaping of the face Ortega describes, Bowie’s transformations were spiritual acts: a rebellion against stagnation, an embrace of the infinite shapes the soul might take.

Beneath Ortega’s reflection lies a deeper wisdom about respect—not simply for the goths she mentions, but for all who use creativity to express what is within. To “respect” in her sense is to recognize the artistry in difference, the bravery in standing apart. The ancients taught that to honor the divine in others, one must see the spark of beauty in what seems strange. Thus, in her admiration for the gothic, Ortega practices what the philosophers called reverence for individuality: the belief that every expression, even one born of darkness, can reveal a truth about the light.

Her words also remind us that transformation need not be grand to be meaningful. Sometimes, the smallest change—a line, a shadow, a shape—can awaken new confidence, a new sense of belonging within one’s own skin. The goth who reshapes their brows does not seek to disappear but to reveal—to show the world that identity is fluid, that beauty is not conformity but creation.

The lesson is eternal: to express oneself boldly is to live truthfully. Fashion, art, and self-presentation are not frivolities, but languages through which the soul speaks. Do not fear to change your form if it brings your spirit closer to harmony. Celebrate those who look different, for they remind the world that life’s beauty lies in diversity. As Ortega herself embodies—a modern muse of both shadow and grace—the truest art is not to imitate the world, but to shape yourself until you reflect what is most authentically yours.

O seeker of authenticity, remember this: the body is the canvas of the soul, and the act of transformation is an act of courage. Whether through brow, color, voice, or presence, dare to create yourself anew, as the ancients carved gods from stone and as the goths carve identity from defiance. For in the freedom to change, there lies the highest form of love—the love of one’s own truth.