The Enduring Legacy of Ugly Betty
How Ms. Suarez made me who I am
When I first moved to New York, I wore nothing but black.
Working for publishing houses, magazines, and ad agencies, I was slinking through each industry in something of a uniform. A heeled boot, a wide-leg pant, a turtleneck. If you opened up my tiny Brooklyn closet, you’d see a cartoon wardrobe — the same fit hanging on the rack, times twenty.
Wearing this everyday, at least in my eyes, was a cool, New York thing to do. I didn’t understand how “fashion” worked (and still don’t, tbh). Elite club kids and industry types intimidated me with their fits, and I was too scared to try and replicate it. Wearing all black was an easy way to make cheap clothes look expensive. Instead of scrutinizing the labels I wore, my colleagues never had a chance to judge my fashion choices and I could instead be evaluated solely by my wit, charm, and skill. Not to mention, as a colorblind person, it sure beat stressing over patterns and color theory every morning before I went to work.
Through the years I wore black, I drifted further and further from my body. I worked 60, 70, and 80-hour work weeks. Each day, I barely had to look at myself in the mirror before I clocked into Slack and headed to the office. With a retro mustache and the same haircut for years, wearing a uniform didn’t just save me time in my morning routine. I didn’t have to think about my appearance ever again!
I was invisible on New York streets, and a shadow in my office. The more I worked, the less I cared about how I looked, which to me was a good thing. I’ve had a bad relationship with my body my entire life. (And that’s an understatement!) But with this uniform, I didn’t have to consider my body. When I walked to get a coffee or traipse through chic nightlife spaces, I didn’t have to be present for myself because there was nothing to be present for.
When Betty Suarez first entered the workforce, she did so in an iconic “Guadalajara!” poncho and her favorite Anne Boleyn-inspired pearl necklace. Her editorial choices, at first, were her demise. Everyone hated her, hated what she stood for, so disastrously in opposition to the fashion authority at MODE. As someone who watched Ugly Betty when it aired, I think this imprinted on me. I wanted to be like Betty and traverse the elite halls of New York’s publishing industry. And I didn’t want to make the same mistake she did.
But the thing is, in due time, MODE came around to Betty. In fact, MODE needed Betty more than anyone and they were too blinded by polyester to see it. Anyone who watched the show in its entirety knows the end of Betty’s story: not only did she save the company time and time again, but she did so wearing some of the “ugliest” garments the MODE offices had ever seen. And she did it, totally, entirely, as herself, fully present for every moment and unwilling to hide.
She wore what she wanted to wear and waited for everyone to buy into it, and they did. Her clothes didn’t matter to her so long as she worked hard, protected her family, and met every obstacle with kindness and heart. She was comically exceptional, a phenomenon Latin people in the workforce are no stranger to. She proved her ability over and over until her opponents’ resistance was weakened enough to one day decide, “You know, that Betty girl might be ugly, but she’s damn good at what she does.”
I don’t think I quite had an “aha” moment as much as a slow unraveling. In the pandemic, I suddenly had too much time to myself. Time to consider a body and an appearance I hadn’t considered in, let’s count, six years. And with that, I realized how I looked didn’t make me feel happy. Actually, it didn’t make me feel anything at all.
I started testing outfits to get my morning coffee. Limited edition sneakers, cobalt Isse Miyake, and trippy sunglasses. Lingerie and printed jeans, sheer bodysuits, erotic t-shirts, leather skirts, stomping my heels with a cold brew in hand. For the first time since college, I was considering my image and how I make a first impression before I even open my mouth. No more hiding who I am or how I show up in the world. Power clashing in full color, I’m just waiting for everyone else to catch up.
some things that brought me joy this week
1. On today’s episode of Like a Virgin we have Ugly Betty child star Mark Indelicato who was not only a complete and total delight but also generously shared his experience making the show and how its cultural meaning endures. I exercised a lot of constraint without fangirling — but this was a big deal for me because I *was* Justin watching Ugly Betty growing up (even though I now identify as a Betty).
🗣️ COMMENCE UGLY BETTY YOUR REWATCH AND REPORT BACK PLEASE! 🗣️
2. I watched Dead Ringers all in a day, one of my favorite things I’ve watched in some time. Rachel Weisz plays twin doctors, and not just twins but psychosexual lesbian masterminds who also happen to be renowned gynecologists?!? (Are you hooked yet?) The show is deliciously dark, gorgeously horrific. Rachel is so damn good that you can quickly tell the difference between the identical twins solely on the basis of her ability to act very different parts.
3. Idk what a “beach plum” is or how long this has been a La Croix flavor, but as something of a sparkling water connossieur, this is definitely my new fave summer drink.
4. Speaking of which, I feel like my brain skipped spring this year and went straight for summer. My playlists are often affected by the weather, and this one I’m already obsessed with adding to/updating through August.
5. I’m still mourning the loss of Tuca & Bertie, canceled again after migrating to Adult Swim. Its third and ostensibly final season aired on HBOmax and it remains to be the funniest, most nuanced, and complex adult cartoon I’ve ever consumed (perhaps next to Big Mouth). This show has tapped into so many corners of my real ass life and I’m grateful for these two birds.
6. Also, I don’t know who needs to hear this, but Spotify has the ability to “mute” certain artists from your algorithm and let’s just say that’s brought me a lot of joy.
7. In my recent move back to New York, I organized two immense boxes of toiletries, a process I recommend to any Taurus. In my cleanse, I realized I’ve finally found my favorite daily moisturizer, after ages of trying products.
8. I’ve been a fan of Ceremonia products in my curly hair journey. (Their scrumptious scent profiles alone!) They recently sent me their style refresher which has an ideal texture to it — all hold, no crunch.
9. The artist Silas Denver released these shirts among a collection of trolly trans apparel I adore. Please support this artist instead of all the dupes being made out there.
10. If you are a haver of butt sex, I’d like to endorse unrefined coconut oil as lube, which has exceeded my expectations with yummy simplicity.
If you enjoyed this letter and enjoy being a patron of my work, please send me a tip on Venmo or Paypal (@fransquishco) or Zelle at franjtirado@gmail.com!
this week’s action
My favorite organizing collective in nightlife BodyHack is hosting a fundraiser to support the efforts of F2L, a community-led fund supporting incarcerated queer and trans folks in NYC. Give to them or check out their page to familiarize yourself with their work.