Selfies
A little girl's reflection, and mine
The restrooms were directly across from Auditorium 8. I was annoyed to find that all stalls except for one were occupied by women who were likely to be more busy reading their social media accounts than emptying their bladders.
I did what I came to do, flushed, unlatched the door, and stepped out into the short hall leading to the sink station. American Fiction had been playing on without me for several minutes, and I was in a hurry. Just before I got to the closest of the two double sinks, I saw a girl standing in front of the mirror. When I saw what she was doing, I stood still.
She must’ve been between 8 and 10 years old, with long chestnut hair held back by a purple headband. Her left hand switched from pose to pose as her right hand held the her phone. She snapped selfie after selfie — a closed mouth smile, a toothy smile, hand on hip, fingers twirling hair — and I just stood there, waiting.
Each still frame was only a snapshot, a second of time, but that time didn’t belong to me anymore. Every second of that time belonged to her.
She turned in shock and hid her phone when she noticed that I’d been standing and waiting for her to finish taking photos of herself. In moments, her smile faded into an embarrassed frown. She was shutting down.
I noticed, and didn’t want her to feel like it was anything to be embarrassed about. I gave her a quizzing smile, raised both of my thumbs and made a motion without words, asking, “Are you good?”
She smiled again, also without words, she said, “I am good.”
I focused only on washing my hands for a minute, and then looked back up in the mirror. She was still standing at the other sink, grinning with a huge smile, and making eye contact.
She was good.
I turned to dry my hands as the person she was waiting for approached the sink station. She started to speak to the little girl in Spanish, and they left the restroom.
American Fiction came to an end, and I was happy to have experienced the film tonight. The movie and its cast deserved all of the acclaim (and Oscar nominations) they received. Surprisingly, however, it was the little girl that I couldn’t stop thinking about hours later.
She was good.
In those short moments, she captured how good she was. She was unashamed, she was proud, she was pure, and she was free. But when she was “caught,” she was ashamed, she was embarrassed, and she was no longer free.
It was a small and brief encounter, but I am worried about her. I am worried about everyone who dared to admire the way they look, and ended up embarrassed or ashamed for being caught feeling themselves.
I don’t take as many selfies as I used to.
Maybe we should all take more selfies, like nobody is watching.
