The Day I Taught My Mom How To Take A Selfie (2006)

I am proudly, unabashedly, fond of selfies. Even before the advent of the camera phone and the digital camera, I was taking pictures of myself on film — the anticipation of what would come back from the lab always excited me. It’s amazing to me that we can so easily create images of ourselves, and the fact that our ability to do this is, historically speaking, Kind Of A Big Deal, is never far from my mind.
I feel that the reason why so many of us love selfies so much is because we want to prove that we have an impact on our world. A picture is proof that you existed. Instagram accounts filled entirely with one person’s face proclaim, “World, I am here!”. When I look at old family photo albums with my parents, we see relatives who we only know existed because we have a photograph, with a name written on it, and maybe some brief description of who they were or what they were doing in the picture. It doesn’t feel like we have much to go by. Future generations — and historians — will have such a wealth of images of us to know us by, to learn from.

A selfie can show that you interacted with your environment. A group selfie shows who you were friends with, and that you were with them at a certain time or in a certain place. When I travel, I like to take selfies that show landmarks behind me. I feel that these pictures preserve a connection with the location — they not only serve as evidence that I was there, but may indicate my feelings through my expression, and show that I was an active participant in experiencing the location.

It’s been said that selfies may not accurately depict us, because we can position the camera in such ways that change our appearance (“rocking the Myspace angles”, my friends and I used to say), and knowingly arrange our expressions just-so. However, I feel like in styling our selfies, we show ourselves more accurately: We show how we see ourselves. If I can take a picture that, according to my internal impression of my appearance, looks like ME, I think I have succeeded. You can look at me however you’d like to, and you can take a picture of me that shows the way you see me. But for me to show you how I see myself feels like truly a powerful expression of who I am.

I won’t allow myself to be shamed for it. You shouldn’t, either.