Pictures of You: The Evolution of Self-Image

Mirrors are not what they used to be. Once upon a time, a mirror was a piece of reflective glass above the bathroom sink or in a mahogany frame in the living room. Now, mirrors are different. We summon them with the button at the top right corner of our iPhones’ screens and by turning on the green light next to the tiny eye at the top of our laptops. We still have traditional mirrors, but now we also have other mirrors — new mirrors. And these new mirrors change everything.

Looking into a mirror used to be an activity over which we had little control. We are sometimes unable to control whether we look into an old-fashioned mirror at all. You can glance at your floormate’s open door and happen to catch a glimpse of yourself in the full length mirror, but this isn’t the case with new mirrors. With webcams and phone cameras, we are in control.

Not only do we control when we activate these mirrors and when we see our reflections, but we also control what the reflection looks like. Through my Snapchat mirror I can amend my reflection by adding a filter, caption, or drawing. Through the Photo Booth application on my laptop, I can see what my reflection would look like if I were on a roller-coaster, under the sea, or in outer space.

Because the new mirrors have changed the way we regard our reflections, they have changed the way we regard ourselves. We are now in control of our reflections. We are now in control of our self-perceptions.

Before, we could do nothing if a mirror decided to make us feel bad. Once, I left class to use the bathroom in middle school and found the door to the bathroom propped open. As I approached, I heard a hacking noise: it was one of my classmates staring at her reflection with tears threatening to spill over her cheeks, her shirt pulled up, and her shoulders perpendicular to the cold, shiny glass. She knew I was there, but she didn’t move. The mirror had entered her mind. It had paralyzed her. It mocked her in a cloying, singsong whisper only she could hear, a siren call that kept her from returning home. “This is who you are,” it scoffed silently. “This is what you did. This is your stomach. You will never get rid of it.”

We don’t have to let mirrors tell us who we are anymore. My twelve-year-old cousin is going through middle school in a world where she tells the mirrors what she looks like. A few times a week I open my Snapchat application to find a selfie of her smiling in a sundress and a ponytail, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and “#nomakeup” in crisp white letters on her forehead. She controls the image the mirror captures; she controls the angle, the filter, the moment. The new mirror in her iPhone still talks, but it tells her what she already knows: that she doesn’t need makeup to be beautiful.

We’ve all become annoyed when our Facebook newsfeeds are clogged with selfies taken by people who clearly think they look awesome in these pictures. But, if new mirrors make people feel beautiful, then I don’t mind. One could argue that the ability to take a selfie, the ability to control the angle and filter through which you view your reflection, adds to a culture that is already overly focused on looks. But I think putting people in control of mirrors is empowering. The mirror in the bathroom at my middle school controlled my classmate, but my cousin now controls the Apple brand mirror in her pocket.

Both yesterday and today I snapped a selfie on the way to class. Yesterday, I went to my 8am class in pajamas. I over-smiled and made my eyes bug out, I didn’t use any filters under fluorescent bathroom lighting, and I held the phone uncomfortably close to my face. The caption read, “Am I pretty?”

Today, I went to my 11am in a magic shirt that somehow knows exactly what to cover and what to reveal, where to cling to me and where to hang lose. I smiled the toothy smile I mastered in fifth grade, the one I’ve used for every school picture since, and swiped the screen left to right three times to get the filter that makes my eyes pop. I held my phone slightly to the left and tilted my head slightly to the right, the angles striking a flattering geometric harmony. No caption necessary.

I asked if I was pretty in my Snap yesterday as a joke because being pretty was so clearly not my concern at the moment. I didn’t ask if I was pretty today because, thanks to the modern ability to control my reflection, I already knew that I was.

Though Mulan had to sit around and wait for her reflection to show who she was inside, new mirrors have given us the power to proactively shape our reflections to fit our self-images. Previous folks may have had to wait around for daunting, steely, immobile mirrors in public spaces to show them a version of themselves they were happy with. But I don’t have to listen to those things. I’m taking matters into my own hands. I’m taking charge. And dammit, I’m taking selfies.