Instead of going straight home after school, I quickly made my way to Walgreens. I had a cluster of puberty pimples, so I frantically looked for something to fix them with. Yes, I tried the toothpaste, lemon juice, and honey concoction. DIY skincare could only get me so far. I searched the shelves for a gimmicky product that swore it would clear my skin overnight. Spoiler alert: It didn’t.
My acne made me feel painfully insecure about the way I looked. I felt that acne carried a negative connotation — it was associated with filth, while clear skin signaled cleanliness. Feeling dirty even after feeling like you’ve washed your sins away is discouraging, especially for women, where being clean is a non-negotiable standard. I feel that no one bats an eye when a boy has acne because, well, he’s a boy. In my opinion, girls are expected to be airbrushed and polished while boys are allowed to be under development.
My frustration ran deep with my acne because I had breakouts and clogged pores. I have one-sided beef with the infamous “non-comedogenic” label. Comedogenic refers to ingredients that clog pores. So, when brands say their product is non-comedogenic, they’re promising that you won’t break out. Shopping for skincare always takes me the longest because that marketing myth doesn’t work on me. I’m constantly scanning ingredients, copying and pasting them into a trigger app, and stalking reviews. Finding a solid skincare routine feels impossible when only a fraction of products actually live up to the “non-comedogenic” claims.
Every few weeks, a new skincare product goes viral. The packaging is always aesthetically pleasing, and owning it feels like a status symbol. To me it feels like one is considered a “skincare influencer” if you have the newest launches and get sent PR to promote to an acne-prone audience: “This product cleared my skin!” You already have clear skin!
FOMO hits when I see an influencer with glass skin freely slather Glow Recipe, a trendy skincare brand that is fruit-powered and marketed as clinically effective in pretty pastel containers. On the other hand, I’m locked in with Cetaphil like it’s a prison sentence. As much as I resist overconsumption, I still wish I could indulge in aesthetically pleasing, fun skincare that everyone raves about—not just the boring products your dermatologist prescribes.
To this day I thank the TikTok algorithm for introducing me to Natalie O’Neal. She was the one influencer who wasn’t really an influencer, but someone who was fed up the same way I was. She was known for de-influencing popular skincare brands, and it made me feel included. I was introduced to the safe side of skin care, and in it I found a sense of community. I learned that managing my skin was not impossible, I just needed guidance from someone who understood. For the first time, I acknowledged that my skin wasn’t “bad,” it was reactive, and it needed consistency instead of punishment.
Sunscreen is something I struggle with the most in my skin care journey. Normally, if you’re still experiencing clogged pores, your sunscreen is the drama. It’s even worse when you have darker skin because when you go out in public, you resemble Casper the friendly ghost. Chemical sunscreen exists, but very few are acne safe. I found my holy-grail sunscreen sophomore year of high school: Zitsticka Megashade. It was a hybrid sunscreen with mineral and chemical filters. That meant no white cast. The sunscreen lived up to its breakout-proof promises with skin-loving ingredients.
Recently, Zitsticka discontinued their sunscreen, which broke my heart worse than any man has. The stability I once had was ripped away from me. Having to go back to square one feels discouraging because now I’m back to feeling uncertain. I constantly think about all the money I’ve given to skincare brands. Not that I regret investing in my skin, but I resent that it feels like an ultimatum. I have to spend a great amount of money or else my skin won’t be clear.
My skin has come a long way. I no longer get clusters of angry pimples anymore. It’s still reactive, but I’ve learned how to keep it calm by prioritizing my skin barrier instead of attacking it. Double cleansing and chemical exfoliating have made the greatest changes in my skin. Double cleansing means going in with an oil cleanser prior to your regular water-based cleanser to remove oil from sunscreen and makeup. The oil cleanser I’m using right now is the Haruharu Wonder cleansing oil along with Naturium’s Mandelic acid serum, a chemical exfoliant.
A tip that also benefited my skin is not cleansing in the morning. I just wipe away the morning crusties with a clean damp towel and go straight into my Purito barrier serum, Cetaphil moisturizer and Eucerin Clear Skin SPF 50.
Even though I can’t use the trendy aesthetically pleasing skincare everyone swears by, my boring clinical products are my personal ticket to glass skin. Being acne-prone taught me patience. It taught me how to critically analyze ingredient lists, question marketing claims, and separate what looks good from what works.
Whether your skin can handle what’s fun or you’re loyal to the “boring” stuff, the goal isn’t perfection, it’s peace. And for the first time, I’m not trying to cure my acne. I’m just learning how to care for it.