A barrage of selfies can be annoying, sure. But you know what is great about them, especially in the hands of young women? It’s that a selfie puts the control entirely in the hands of the subject. It gives the subject control over her own image in a radical way—a way that’s still inevitably inflected by society’s crushing beauty standards and embedded misogyny, but a way forward nevertheless. That’s something new, since for centuries, official image-makers were often men, and when they showed female bodies it was more often than not for specific purposes outside the depicted subject’s control.
I’m not arguing that a selfie is the most important and radical act a woman can do—far, far from it. But this is just a gentle reminder that, even if the selfie-taker didn’t intend it, there’s more at work than narcissism.
Selfie philosophizing aside, it’s been a quiet, rainy day in Atlanta. I’m documenting my actual, #nofilter, day to day vibe here: very sleepy, hair in a bun to hide the conditioning mask I leave in all day (yes, even in public) while my hair recovers from bleaching and dyeing and just general abuse. No makeup to give my eyes/skin/face a rest. And finally, a giant mens sleep-shirt as outside-clothing because I will push the limits of “loungewear” while I still can, working only in coffee shops and in my apartment.