The assumption is that being a woman, then one must like or enjoy certain activities, like taking photos. And selfies. But this isn’t always the case.
I have a confession to make. I hate posing for photos. And it almost always shows. Either my smile will look strained, or there will be a stunned look on my face, as if I was caught unawares. Doing something I shouldn’t be doing. Plus I never know what to do with my hands.
And let’s not talk about the pose, because it is the kind of pose that someone would make under duress, as if you have a gun pointed to your head and the one holding it orders you to smile. I’m just not a natural poser. Even taking a headshot in a studio ends up becoming a chore for me and the photographer, who will keep telling me to tilt my head a certain way, but since I never get it, the frustrated photographer ends up tilting my head to the angle he’s looking for, himself.
The assumption is that being a woman, then one must like or enjoy certain activities, like taking photos. And selfies. But this isn’t always the case. I can, for instance, count the number of times I’ve taken a selfie out of my own volition, and they’re not more than five. Worth mentioning is that two out of these five times, I needed to submit a passport photo, and figured that my phone would do a good enough job.
A couple of months ago, a reader wrote me an email, pointing out that it was time I changed the photo that appears on this column. I chuckled because he had a point. This photo was taken a couple of years ago and probably needs updating.
My only consolation is that those who regularly read my column tend to recognise me whenever our paths cross, even though most look at me quizzically, unsure, and then tentatively ask, “Do you write for Nation?” or “Where have I seen you?” Either way, this tells me that I must still look like this picture, somehow.
Despite my dislike for posing for photos, unfortunately, being a woman means that I will never entirely avoid taking them, and chamas are to blame for this.
You know what I’m talking about because you’ve probably come across these group photos on social media. Photos of groups of women dressed in similar clothes and colours, the hashtags beneath the photos reading something like #galswhoslay, #dinnerwiththegirls or #chamamanenos.
Being a woman, it is only natural that you are part of at least one of these groupings because they form an important part of your social fabric, your support system. These women are the ones that show up for you during important occasions such as celebration of your child’s birth, your child’s initiation ceremony, graduations, weddings, and even funerals of loved ones.
With this in mind, what are a couple of group photos every year? And so I show up for the photo sessions, determined not to be a party popper, and smile and try not to appear ungainly and awkward. There is also the fact that photos form a significant part of the memories you make in this journey called life. The photos you took in high school, those you took when you joined university, photos of your wedding and of your children when they were younger. I have a feeling that as I grow older, I will cherish such photos, and the discomfort I stomached in the process of taking them will be worth it.
