Norma Jean. Pretty. Curvier than average. Brown hair. Broken home. Nothing remarkable. She grew up in foster care, never knowing her father, while her mother roared through the 20's as a risque flapper, occasionally stopping in to see her. She lived a life of confusion, shuffling homes, those influencing her giving her conflicting ideas about morals and standards. She once attempted to live with her mother again, only to witness the woman's nervous breakdown resulting in institutionalization and Norma Jean's return to the foster system. In this second phase of foster care, Norma Jean's experience was even worse, as she was sexually abused on more than one occasion as her body propelled her into womanhood. Finally, to escape an orphanage, she married in 1942 at age 16.
In 1945, Norma became Marilyn. After being discovered by an army photographer, she signed with a booking agency, bleached her hair, and changed her name. Her breakthrough came in modeling, but she had her mind set on the silver screen. She worked constantly to improve her acting skills and deeply desired to be taken seriously as an actress. When working on a film, she would request take after take, not because she was a diva but because she wanted to give her audience her very best. She yearned for the people's approval. She lived to please.
Despite her career successes, Marilyn's personal life was a running tragedy. She was married and divorced several times (different biographers report different numbers,) and she was involved in high-profile affairs, one allegedly with JFK. She and her husband Arthur Miller tried multiple time to have a child, each attempt resulting in miscarriage, and her dependency on drugs to deal with anxiety and to sleep grew greater with each passing day. To look at her, one would think she had the world: beauty, fame, riches, the love of millions. Underneath, though, the only thing visible was pain, hurt, emptiness, scandal.
What could possibly be so beautiful about that?
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