The February 25, 2008 issue of Newsweek offers a frightening little insight into the new world of families and child rearing in an innocuous article regarding airbrushing. It seems that parents of grade-schoolers are increasingly requesting airbrush services on their little wonders’ class portraits.
I have distinct memories of my class portraits. I didn’t like brushing my hair, and all of my photos between the 2nd and 4th grades betrayed me with a subtle little lump just above and behind my left ear. In 1st grade I got chickenpox, and had recovered sufficiently enough to return to school – just before the lady from Timeless Images showed up with her tripod and green rug. Some people struggle with remembering when they got the chickenpox, but I only have to consult my 1st grade class portrait. There was the year I got glasses (4th grade), the year I had stitches in my chin (5th), and the year I was first allowed to wear mascara (6th). An entire personal history translated with clarity through my awkward class photos.
In the Newsweek article a Legacy Photographer named Kelly Price said, “People want their kids to look perfect rather than teach them to appreciate their flaws.” She goes on to say that she fears if she asked for her 12-year-old daughter’s photo to be retouched, she would be sending a message of insufficiency to that child. The article quotes a psychoanalyst named Susie Orbach as saying “The rise in airbrushing is a byproduct of a culture consumed with the idea that the body is perfectible.”
When my now 23-year-old daughter first realized she had buck teeth – the kind of sudden awareness that can crush a 10-year-old – I was able to show her pictures of me at the same age and with the same buck teeth. Then I showed her my class portrait from 8th grade – the one with the braces and the headgear. That – and a promise that head gear was rarely employed any longer – comforted her. I’m sure it didn’t hurt that she also saw the massive pimple just over my right eye in that same 8th grade photo – a reassurance that one day she, too, would enjoy pimple-free skin again.
I am disconcerted. I’m not sure if it’s the matter of being a part of a society that is “consumed with the idea that the body is perfectible,” or if my concern is related to the idea of what a perfect body should be. We live in a culture that idolizes the 15-year-old female form – no hips, and an ability to show 6″ of flesh below the navel without disclosing the presence of pubic hair. When I was a teenager it was socially risky to be larger than a size 7. Our children are under far greater pressure today, not only to be a much smaller size, but also to be self-conscious at a much younger age.
Our role as parents is to help our children see beauty in all its forms and to recognize their own inherent beauty – inclusive of any temporary or permanent perceived flaws. When we cave in to society’s superficial notions of what makes an attractive person we relinquish our ability to be authentic. A terrible sacrifice.
Many parents would assert that they ask for airbrushing in an attempt to protect their children from discomfort and dissatisfaction. But is this truly a service to them? Sparing our children the experience of discomfort only delays the time when they must confront it head on. Such delay can rob them of the skills necessary to face their frailties with humor or to muster the courage and strength to recover from a disappointment.
I remember scheduling my Senior Portrait. I was acutely conscious of how expensive it would be, and I asked my mom why the photos cost so much. Her reply was that, unlike my class portraits in years past, the senior photo would be taken in a studio with special lighting and photo retouching services. Not having any prior experience of that type of photography, I questioned the value of spending so much money. Her response? “Oh honey, won’t it be fun to have just one photo that makes you look like someone in a magazine ad? Something you’ll always hold on to because it’s your last class photo?”
It was. And I did. But in all the years since, I have gotten much more value out of those years of class photos that showed me precisely as I was.
(c) 2008. Andrea M. Hill