Have you ever seen the wonder of a toddler recognizing their own reflection? Awe, then amazement, and finally excitement crosses their face. Their reflection stops them. It’s like they’re saying, “Look. That’s me! Wow!” You can’t help but smile. There’s an innocence in their exploration and as you watch them, there’s an unspoken agreement about how strangely marvelous it is to be a human—to have a reflection made up of awe, wonder, amazement, and excitement that is you. As a toddler, we know nothing other than this foundational recognition.

Soon enough the mirror brings forth different kinds of reflections: reflections of the past, reflections of the present, and reflections of the future. The reality is, these reflections can even come all at once with one glance at the mirror. We see past regret, growths, and achievements. We see present successes, strengths, and failings. We see future hopes, desires, and unveilings. We see reflections of our whole self.

I remember the moment when my childlike recognition was stolen. Like the caretaker’s cat from Hogwarts was petrified, I stood paralyzed in front of the mirror. I was eight years old and I had just been called a boy by a man on the street. In some ways, I knew that my unwanted short hair could have been the prompt for such a comment, but I couldn’t help but stare at my face. Why a boy? Was I not pretty enough? I was growing faster than all the other kids in my grade—I was taller than most of the boys. My body wasn’t like the other girls’—slim and unweighted—and my unruly curls were far from the 1991 My Girl’s sleek ponytail. I was different. And as this man expressed, I was also, supposedly, less female. With his flippant comment, my recognition was snatched. I no longer was amazed by my reflection. The shame of another’s opinion was permanently etched into my mind.

No longer was my reflection my own; their reflections became mine.

You’ve heard it before, and we know that won’t be the last of it, but body shaming isn’t new. It’s been around for decades, although social media makes it more accessible. No longer is it just a man yelling, “Well, don’t you look like a boy,” while your eight-year-old self walks across the street. It’s now people trolling Instagram and Twitter, ridiculing people’s weight, hair, skin color, facial proportions, you name it… they are ready for the shaming. Just by typing in those two words—body shaming—endless news articles flood Google, with the same amount of “Top Tips” articles on how to overcome it. This isn’t new. And sadly, it’s normal. 

This normality has not risen without a fight. Celebrities like Kate Winslet, Amber Riley, Kelly Clarkson, Mindy Kaling, Busy Philipps, and many more have spoken directly to the naysayers and cyberbullies. These women are taking a stand against the current normality. Though others have tried to steal their reflections, they reclaimed them back.

Funny, isn’t it? How strong and influential the mind can be? No matter if others’ opinions seem to be making their mark on you or not, the voices you listen to the most will slowly join forces to create the narrative that screams out as your reflection. Or at least they did for 19 years of my life.

My eight-year-old reflection of childlike amazement turned from wonder to seeing “a boy”. This then led to seeing undesirable curly hair, an “elephant” body, an “objectionable” beauty, and, one of the most often used high school projections, the “ugly duckling of the family”. My reflection was theirs—what they said of me. What I eventually started to see was loathsome. What I saw was worthless. I spent the majority of my life seeing only shame for who I am, as defined by others. You see, shame is simply that: your acceptance of the reflections others project onto you. By the time I was 27 years old, the self I once knew was so deeply repressed, I was a chameleon. I thought that I only had to keep accepting others’ reflections of me to make it through.

But, that 27-year-old me became struck by a childlike moment of recognition. Something within me snapped as I realized that all this time, those humiliating words of body shaming had defined my reflection. Though years had passed since the majority of them had been spoken, I was still carrying them.

When I looked in the mirror, I recognized the harshest shamer of all. 

Me. 

Others’ reflections of me had become my own. I had shamed myself beyond what any body shamer could do, paralyzing myself through repeating the untrue words spoken over me. The curves that were too curvy, the curls that were too frizzy, the weight that was too weighty, the wrinkles that were too wrinkly, and the cellulite that was too…well… cellulite. I had become the ultimate shamer.

You see, of all the body shamers out there, the reflections that stick are the ones we choose. I say this not to diminish the pain, because those words are beyond gut-wrenching, but to recognize that the true holder of your reflection is you. I think of the Amy Schumer film, I Feel Pretty. From start to finish, the progression of shamer to claimer is one of the best displays of taking back one’s own reflection—fighting against the grain of misownership, and declaring self-assurance. As the great rhetoritician, Dr. Seuss said,

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. You are the guy [or gal] who’ll decide where to go.”[1]*

Ashley Graham, a well-known model and (in my opinion) one of the top influencers in body positivity, is shaping a society hell-bent on owning others’ reflections. She has taken advantage of her platform, and in a recent advertisement for the fashion line Marina Rinaldi, Graham speaks boldly about her tenacious self-image stating, 

“I didn’t build my confidence overnight. I worked on it every day. And I continue working on loving who I am.”   

The video ends with #rockyourconfidence. What a way to see your reflection. Simply put, at the age of 27, I chose to shut down the shamer within. I choose to daily shut down the shamer. The reflection of what others saw needed to be abandoned. The reflection that my own shamer saw needed to be depleted. Only I had the choice—to fight for beauty, to fight for confidence, to fight for owning my true reflection.

Sadly, there’s no formula for confidence. As the age-old saying goes, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” The body shamers will always make themselves known. But the reflection, well, that’s yours. There will always be reflections of the past, reflections of the present, and reflections of the future. Release the childlike wonder when you look in the mirror. Release the awe and excitement. Release the reflection that says, “Look. That’s me! Wow!”

It’s time. The day is now. New reflections await—reflections of curiosity, fascination, and hope. Take a tip from Ashley Graham this very day and #rockyourconfidence.

Written by: Kaila H. Johnson

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[1] Seuss, Dr. (1960). Oh, the Places You’ll Go! New York: Random House Children’s Books.

* Personal emphasis of “or gal”.