The Click
I’ve heard about the “click. “
I’ve read about the “click.”
I’ve been warned about the “click.”
But nothing, and I mean NOTHING, can prepare you for the first time a complete stranger points their iPhone at your unsuspecting, innocent child and you hear that “click.”
It was a perfect late August beach day and I had my chair positioned at the edge of the water, in order to keep one eye on Ellie on her boogie-board and the other on Mira, who was sun-kissed and content making a drip castle in the wet sand. I noticed a college-age girl a few feet from us in sitting in her chair scrolling her phone. I had on a hat and sunglasses, so she likely thought I didn’t notice, but I watched her point her phone directly at Mira, take aim, and that’s when I heard it.
The click.
It was as if the click of the camera set off an alarm in my head. I instinctively turned to her, removed my sunglasses, locked eyes and began the most awkward, intense stare down of my life. I knew what she had done, so did she, but neither one of us knew what to do next.
I was frozen in disbelief. She was frozen in fear.
The mama bear in me wanted to erupt, but I couldn’t do that, because Mira deserved more.
As the story goes, I did not say anything to her, at least not with words. She saw everything I wanted to say in my tear-filled eyes. Eyes that I hope she remembers for the rest of her life.
As we drove home, I couldn’t shake the feeling of my daughter being violated so blatantly. In retrospect, I truly believe that this girl was merely reacting to a little girl that she may have never seen before up close in real life.
What I don’t understand were her intentions.
Did she text out the photo to friends?
Did she save it on her camera roll for all of eternity?
Did she post it on one of her many social media outlets?
This uncertainty is something I struggle with every day.
I know what you are thinking. IS THAT EVEN LEGAL???
With a few exceptions, it is perfectly legal for strangers to photograph or videotape your child IF it is taken in a public space, and they are free to post or publish the images as well.
Mira deserves kindness. She deserves privacy. She deserves the opportunity to build a sandcastle at the beach she has been coming to since before she was born without the moment being captured by anyone except me. Mira, at just 4 years old, who has bravely fought battles adults could not, deserved a carefree day out with her mama and sister — and this girl, this stranger, threatened it.
Would it have been wonderful if that girl knew that Mira caught her attention because she has Dwarfism? Yes.
Would it have been even better if she used whatever knowledge she had of Dwarfism (even if it was just from a tv show) to strike up a conversation or ask a question or just offer a smile. Yes.
Would it have been the best if she had done all of this subtly and tactfully, turning it into a positive, memorable moment without being intrusive, sneaky and rude? That would be my dream.
It shouldn’t require my telling someone Mira’s diagnosis for them to stop staring at or pointing or taking pictures. My daughter, like all human beings, is worthy of basic kindness and respect, even if she looks “different.” Being different does not make a person an open target for jokes or unwanted, unwelcome photographs to fulfill whatever curiosities you may have.
The next time you want her picture, you are going to have to go through her agent.
Me.