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I received an “A” on my report card, but the comment from my teacher felt like a ruler slapping my hand. While my academic work was flawless, he criticized my “attitude” in class. His issue? My facial expressions, which he interpreted as disrespectful largely because I didn’t smile enough.
In simpler terms, at 15, I had what is commonly referred to as Resting Bitch Face (RBF). This term became popular in the early 2000s to describe a neutral expression that unintentionally signals annoyance or disdain, and it often unfairly targets women. This stereotype suggests that a girl or woman’s default state should be cheerful and inviting, and any deviation from that is labeled as “bitchy.”
Fortunately for me, my mom recognized this unfair expectation long before RBF became a thing. Rather than being a hovering parent who overreacts to minor issues, she took a more strategic approach to advocate for me. When she learned about my teacher’s comments, she immediately arranged a meeting for us. Though I was anxious about discussing my expression, she emphasized the importance of fostering a personal connection to help him see beyond my unsmiling demeanor.
As a mother of a son and two daughters, I witness daily the societal pressures they face regarding how they should present themselves. I’ve lost count of the times my daughters have been teased by teachers for not smiling enough during morning drop-offs. It’s early, cold, and they’re wearing face masks due to a global pandemic—who would be smiling in that situation? Interestingly, no one seems to comment on my son’s expression, whether he’s smiling or not.
My mom identified this double standard long ago, and she knew I had nothing to apologize for. The meeting was not about admitting fault; it was an opportunity for my teacher to get to know me better and view me more holistically. And she was right, as she often is (which can be annoying!). By the end of high school, that same teacher wrote me a college recommendation letter and recognized me with a prestigious award.
I can’t imagine telling my kids to smile more, except for those annual attempts to get the perfect family holiday card photo. They express joy, sadness, and anger in their own unique ways, and their faces reflect their individuality perfectly.
I hope my mom, an early advocate against RBF, will witness a future where such stereotypes fade into obscurity. Meanwhile, we can all continue to embrace our side-eye expressions, a valuable form of communication that transcends gender norms.
For more insights on navigating social expectations and parental guidance, check out this blog post here. Additionally, you can explore the authority on home insemination at Make a Mom, or visit UCSF’s Center for excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
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