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During the second week of my sophomore year in high school, my literature teacher unexpectedly stopped me after class.
“Stop giving me that expression,” she said.
“What expression?” I replied, taken aback.
“You know what I mean. That expression — the one that could stop a clock.”
Even after twenty-five years, I vividly remember that moment. Disoriented and embarrassed, I left school pondering what had provoked her harsh words. I was attentive in class, never spoke out of turn, and actively participated in discussions.
For days, I scrutinized my reflection. Was it my thick eyebrows and intense brown eyes? My facial structure? Maybe I was making too much eye contact? I couldn’t figure it out.
So I began practicing the “appropriate” way to make eye contact, glancing away to avoid seeming too intense. I spent months trying to soften my strong features — relaxed brows, a subtle smile, and a tilted head to convey interest.
Does it sound absurd? It absolutely is.
I won’t defend my teacher’s actions. As a woman in my forties, I now recognize the message she attempted to convey. She implied that my facial expressions were too intense for her comfort. At sixteen, I was too naive to understand that I wasn’t there to make others feel at ease.
My exterior has never matched my interior, and it still doesn’t.
In college, a boy I was interested in told me I would be beautiful if I smiled more. His characterization as a boy is intentional; he was merely that — a boy. As I navigated the complexities of young adulthood, his comment stung deeply. Cue more self-doubt and anxiety.
As I descended into the depths of teenage self-hatred, one truth became clear: Society expected me to wear a constant smile. People wanted me to feign authenticity.
The term “resting bitch face” (RBF) gained popularity in 2013 with a slew of memes and gifs. It’s often used to describe women who appear angry or annoyed when, in reality, they’re just relaxed. This label is frequently directed at women for not presenting a perfect smile. The horror!
Time and again, I’ve been told my face looks too stern or that I give off an unapproachable vibe. Strangers misinterpret my demeanor, assuming I’m judging them when, trust me, I’m not. In fact, I couldn’t care less about your judgments.
I refuse to put on a fake smile just to make others feel comfortable. If you want to label it resting bitch face, that’s your choice. To me, it’s simply my face.
Authenticity is important.
“Stop giving me that expression,” “Smile more,” and similar remarks over the years have made me feel out of place. It took years of reflecting on those experiences to realize that my fear of rejection led me to conform to others’ expectations. Breaking free from behaviors that no longer serve you takes sincere effort.
For decades, I pondered what I could change about myself. Preoccupied with what I wasn’t, I failed to see who I truly was. I am a good listener, attentive and curious. The world desperately needs more listeners! In a world overflowing with noise, there’s plenty of room for quiet contemplation.
The peace I’ve found now is worth all the bewildering interactions I faced with my literature teacher and that boy in college.
When you need someone to be present and patient, I’m here for you. My affection for people is immense, often overwhelming. You may not see it on my face, but I carry it within.
I see you.
I recognize your silent struggles, your pain, and the joy in your eyes when you truly feel happiness. I hear your words and the ones left unspoken.
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In summary, my journey has taught me the importance of authenticity and the strength that comes from embracing who I truly am, despite societal pressures and judgments.