Allison Slate Tate wrote fantastic and though provoking article several years ago encouraging mothers to be present in photographs of their families.  The article, “The Mom Stays in the Picture“, sparked numerous comments and conversation, where women gave all of the reasons why they were absent. Many of the reasons focused on appearance — too much weight, too little make-up, unkempt hair, un-showered — and the like.  As result, women have been erasing themselves from their family history.

Due to the incredible response to the article, The Huffington Post challenged its mom readers to submit photos of themselves with their children. Many images were submitted with accompanying captions describing how many images it took to find the image submitted.  One woman went through 3,000 images on her computer and found 5.  One woman looked through 200 photos from her child’s birthday party and she wasn’t in a single one.  One woman confessed to hating how she looked in photos, but that her love for her children and husband trumped that feeling.

While I documented my own ups and downs with self-esteem, interestingly enough, I don’t really shy away from the camera. Maybe it’s because I love pictures. They tell stories and I love stories. Maybe it’s because I like taking photographs. I like how two people can photograph the same object, person, experience and you end up with two totally different scenes and compositions.  While I haven’t mastered the selfie by any means, I do know my way around a self-timer.  I can jump into a picture with the grace and agility of a gazelle.

When I look back at the pages of photo albums I have, the numerous folders in my hard drive, there is a definite change in subject matter.  School years through college, are mostly of me.  College through early marriage are of me and The Hubs, our friends, our experiences.  Then, came the children, and the majority of the photos are of their smiling faces.

I have created several albums for each of the girls depicting their growth from year to year. I put photos in their baby books chronicling their development and milestones reached.  The Christmas cards I send out every year feature the girls; just pictures of the girls with our names added almost as a courtesy.  After I read Tate’s article, I thought about all of these photographs I’ve amassed.  I decided to create these projects so that the girls would have pictures of themselves for when they’re older.  It’s history. It’s their history. My absence in their photos — I’ve been taking pictures at birthday parties, at performances, around the dinner table when we’re hanging spoons off of our noses — is a missing page in their history.

Tate published a follow-up article, “Lessons Learned From a Year of Staying in the Picture“, sharing what she had learned as a result of trying to be more present when it came to family photographs.  While her success hadn’t been 100%, she did put forth an effort. Her children noticed that she was as well and it changed the dynamic of engagement in the family.  What struck me most in the article was the following:

“We women and mothers cannot let our insecurities interfere with us participating in our own lives and families anymore. By not being in pictures with our children, we are actually disappearing from our family histories. We are disappearing from the world. It’s not okay. Because if we are ever going to live in a world where women do have all the same opportunities as men, where our daughters and sons can hope to have the ability to make lives that are fulfilling both at home and in a workplace of their choices — we can’t disappear. We must be here, all the time. We must be here whether we are the size we want to be, or whether our hair looks the way we want, or whether we are feeling strong or just faking it ’til we make it.

We can’t hate ourselves and expect our children to treat themselves differently. We can’t hate ourselves and expect the world to treat us differently.”*

I am a woman of color who has worn her hair naturally for 15 years. I have three daughters who also wear natural hair. It is important to me that my girls see me loving and embracing my hair.  Given all of the challenges that women of color face in the media, popular culture and the workplace gaining respect and acceptance for their hair, it is critically important that our young people receive positive messages about their hair, the bodies and their abilities.

I was touched by Tate’s recollection of viewing photos of her own mother. She wrote: “When I look at pictures of my own mother, I don’t look at cellulite or hair debacles. I just see her — her kind eyes, her open-mouthed, joyful smile, her familiar clothes. That’s the mother I remember.”  I am so thankful for the photos I have of my own mother, my grandmother, the women in my family who make me who I am.

When I look at a sepia tinted photo of my great aunt as a toddler, born in 1901, I know for certain where my girls get the set of their eyes or the purse of their lips.  A photograph of my mother holding me in her arms at my first birthday has rounded edges, is slightly out of focus, and thoroughly 1970s. I’ve got a bruise on my forehead, a cone shaped birthday hat perched atop my hair, it’s rubber band digging into my chin. Not a smile to be found. My mother’s mouth is slightly open, her head leaning away from me as she talks with someone outside the frame, but her arms encircle me onto her hip leaving no doubt that she’s is always present, with me and for me.  It’s one of my favorite pictures.

My passion for photography makes me the de facto family historian.  I must realize that sometimes, the lens must be turned in my direction as well. It’s not about the perfect outfit, our hair in the right place or whether or not we got our eyeliner winged out just so.  It’s about being present when the camera is pulled out.  In this day and age, that’s pretty much all the time, which means there aren’t any more excuses.  We must model the behavior we want to see in our children.  Without our presence, our children can’t see what strong, beautiful, dynamic, powerful, mulch-faceted women we are.  If they can’t see that, they can’t be that.  Being in the picture serves to create a richer portrait of family life not only for the current generation, but for generations to come.

 *Tate, Allison Slater, “Lessons Learned From a Year of Staying in the Picture”, The Huffington Post Online, 23 January 2014.