I Like Looking At Myself. Judge Me.

I like looking at myself.

Just taking a moment to see myself. If there is a mirror, I can assure you, I am unable to resist. I try to hide it if I am in public, but I always sneak a casual glance, peering over my shoulder as I walk by. More often than not, I get caught. You would think I would be better at it; I’ve been doing it my whole life. The truth is, I like to see what others see. I want to watch how my face moves when I talk, or laugh, taking mental notes as I watch my emotions splash across my face. Maybe I was meant to be an actress, I imagine. This must be what they do. I’ve come to enjoy examining every line, and mark; watching as my face inevitably changes as I age. I imagine taking an eraser to the lines and magically turning back the clock, visiting my younger, more foolish self. There is so much I could teach her now, starting with “wear more sunscreen!” I can’t deny it anymore. I just love a good mirror, better yet, I love a good selfie. A way to capture myself just the way I like seeing myself. At just the right angle with just the right light. I even save my favorite selfies. I do. And I don’t feel bad about it. I don’t need paparazzi, I’ve got it covered all on my own. The way I see it, love should start at home. And I love me.

Some time last year, a person close to me was recounting a story about how someone had broken up with someone else, because she “took too many selfies.” I bit my tongue -- at least I think I did, I honestly can’t be sure. I instantly felt this pit in my stomach, and a red hot flush building on my cheeks. “That is the STUPIDEST thing I have ever heard! Talk about shallow and insecure? That can’t be the real reason. What is so wrong with selfies?” I raged to myself. Then, in what I think was an effort to assure me they were not grouping me into this band of offensive, unapologetic “selfie takers” the person said to me, “but, you know, you have really stopped taking so many selfies. You’re so busy now with other things, with work.”

“Are you kidding me?” my internal dialogue continued, as my already strained smile faded into a scowl. In that moment I was so offended, almost outraged, I considered walking home. Did I mention I was in the car with this person? I didn’t walk home. In fact, I barely said anything. Shame has a way of silencing you in the moment, even when you expect to be so much stronger. The question I was left to unpack was why did this hit such a nerve with me? When I say I was upset, I mean, I was really upset. So why?

First, I was just complimented(?) for stopping something I have never really stopped. You can all breath a sigh of relief, the selfies live on. I had just discovered Snapchat, so my car companion had simply been removed from the lucky audience that gets to see all my glorious selfies. Her loss if you ask me. But the outrage went deeper than that, because the truth is I don’t think she meant to be hurtful. I’ve seen this play out before. Who remembers the college girls at the Arizona Diamondbacks game that were publicly ridiculed by the announcers (and countless others after the fact) when they were seen on camera taking selfies with their girlfriends at the game?

Why is it that these girls were shamed for taking pictures of themselves, while just a few years earlier, Katherine Webb, girlfriend of then Alabama football quarterback, AJ McCarron was praised, dare I say ogled, by announcer Brent Musburger for simply sitting and watching the game, while being beautiful? (This is not a knock against Webb). After thinking on it, and recalling countless other examples, both personally and in the national spotlight, the answer starts to come into focus more clearly. The patriarchal structure in which we operate finds it acceptable for women’s beauty to be on display for others enjoyment, but humiliates, and shuns the women who might enjoy it themselves. We are taught as women, not to appreciate our own beauty. It is embedded in our entertainment, art, music, and daily rhetoric, clouded in romanticism and false notions that our beauty comes from external validation and we should not declare it worthy on our own. The only confirmation of worth or permission needed for a selfie comes from the person themselves. It is empowering to have control of your own image, and we need to stop belittling the women who have taken those reins.

One of my favorite poems, What If I knew That I Was Beautiful? by the marvelous Daysha Veronica Edewi says it more perfectly than I ever could. So I leave you with this and encourage you to love yourself without apology and never stop taking those selfies if they feel good. #flawless

If you want to see what all this selfie talk is about you can follow Sam on Snapchat: saadahl or check us out on Instagram @beingbonded