This is the weekly Amplify newsletter, where you can be inspired and challenged by the voices, opinions and insights of women at The Globe and Mail.
Rebecca Tucker is a programming editor at The Globe and Mail.
In mid-August, I took a backwoods camping trip to Algonquin Park in Ontario. On the second afternoon there, after unloading the canoe and setting up camp, and while chatting and laughing and looking over at the lake, my sister – unbeknownst to me – took my photo. When she turned her phone screen toward me to show me the result – a candid, unstaged image of my smiling face – I was struck by what I saw.
“That’s not me,” I said.
Of course, it couldn’t have been anyone else. But I was looking at a face that I am not accustomed to letting others capture on camera: un-staged, un-posed and in the moment. When the cameras come out, I usually prefer to hit my angles. Stranger than that, I was looking at a photo I liked.
A photo of Rebecca Tucker taken by her sister at Algonquin Park.The Globe and Mail
I, like so many others, dislike having my photo taken. When the lens is pointed my way, I balk, put my hands up or leave the room. If I need to be in the shot, I have a strategy: I tilt and turn my head slightly to the right, so I can show off my “good side” (the left side of my face has a slight dimple). It’s the same angle I hold on Zoom calls. I seldom smile, but if I do, it’s tight-lipped, hiding the costly orthodontic work that went awry when I refused a second round of braces at 16.
Most of the women I know are what could be described as “camera-shy”: conditioned to be self-conscious about our appearances to the point that a photo feels like a threat. But I think when we say that we don’t like having our photos taken, we’re misspeaking; kind of like saying you’re afraid of heights, when what you’re actually afraid of is falling. When we turn away from the camera, what we’re actually afraid of is having an image of ourselves fail to match either our self-perception or fail to live up to a social beauty standard (or both). Instead of seeing an image captured by a friend or family member, in the hope of commemorating a moment of joy or celebration or love, we see a person with physical flaws.
It makes sense, especially today. We already know that social media has created entirely new economies based on self-representation and personal branding, many of which hinge on physical attractiveness or, at the very least, image control and curation (how often have you asked a friend or family member to allow you to review photos of yourself?). But the addition of image filters on social media – and, yes, on conferencing software like Zoom – has given rise to an entirely new set of standards: Now, in addition to comparing ourselves to others, we’re comparing ourselves to readily accessible, fine-tuned, unrealistic versions of … ourselves, whether we’re active Snapchat users or spend our days in remote meetings. It’s no wonder a spontaneous candid is a daunting prospect.
Of course, camera-shyness certainly predates social media. There are dozens (if not hundreds) of photos of my own mother covering her face with her hands or scowling directly into the camera lens. There are photos of her mother doing the same; sometimes, they’re both in the frame, both working to minimize their respective presence. Almost always, these photos are taken at family gatherings or events. And while I love the character I can see in these images, the familiarity of their self-consciousness sort of breaks my heart.
So I’ve been thinking a lot about camera-shyness these past few weeks, as the holiday season begins to ramp up. This year, for the first time since 2019, many of us will be gathering with friends and family members to celebrate. And with togetherness – especially a togetherness that has been absent for almost three years – will come the desire for commemoration. The cameras will be out. And while there are innumerable reasons to take a photo, over the next few months, many of us will simply want to capture precious moments with people we love, as they’re happening, so we can reflect on the joy of reunion in the years to come.
When I look back at any of the photos of friends or family I took during the worst months of the pandemic, I’m struck by how, despite the difficult circumstances, nearly every image reflects happiness. I don’t see clues that salons were closed, spas were shuttered, gyms were in lockdown. I do see evidence of mood-lifting togetherness, and of love.
That’s what I see in the photo from Algonquin, too – it’s a photo of someone who was happy to be where she was, taken by someone who was, well, happy to see that happiness! It’s a tall order, to put aside image-consciousness and issues of self-esteem in the interest of photo documentation. But maybe it will help to remember that, when photos are being taken this holiday season, they aren’t necessarily meant to capture your physical appearance. They’re meant to create a lasting document reflecting just how important you are to the people around you.
What else we’re thinking about:
I have recently become the proud new owner of a countertop espresso machine, and boy, am I caffeinated these days. I worked as a barista during my undergraduate degree but, since then, my latte art skills have rusted considerably. But with a little help – and a lot of YouTube – I’m getting back in shape. La Marzocco’s latte art tutorial on YouTube is a comprehensive (if lengthy) resource for anyone, like me, looking to become the next Barista Brian.
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