THE LEGACY YOU CHOOSE

One day, I was cleaning my living room- It was the third time I’d cleaned the house because... well... my toddler. As I tidied up the mantle, I was captivated by a framed picture of my mom. There she was, grinning and hugging Woody the Woodpecker at Universal Studios. She wore an Elementary School "Class of 2002" t-shirt with the matching button pinned. Something stood out to me: I remembered that the picture was printed from a disposable camera.

She was stunning and imperfect. There were little wrinkles under her eyes, strong and defined laugh lines, and a few, tousled , strands of hair over her forehead. The photos I have of my mother are usually printed from a CVS or local print place from the early 2000’s. They’re completely untouched- no filters, no Facetune, no edits. What a gift to experience my mother in the truth of who she was?

It got me to thinking about my own photos. Being married to a photographer, I’m constantly running from the camera. He likes to keep the “integrity” of the subject and I’d rather he just airbrushed me! Erase my wrinkles! Fix my teeth. Magic-marker my scars. Sometimes, it’s second nature to swipe a filter on my photo or video for a more “polished” look. After all, who wouldn’t want to accentuate their positives and diminish their flaws? 

Still. Seeing old photos of my mother (and then grandfather) who are no longer with me… seeing pictures of my Nana as a young girl… it means something. It means something to be transported into an accurate and honest time in the past. When we see old photos from Gordon Parks of Muhammad Ali or Rosa Parks, we are given a gift of an unerring depiction. With AI filters and photo editing, will the next generation experience a photoshopped history? This has made me second-guess my photos. I want to leave a sincere depiction of who I was for Noa and my kids’ kids. 

Image by Gordon Parks

Let’s be honest: I’ll probably still edit my photos for polishing. I'm wrestling with some questions about my own self-acceptance. While I wrestle, I’m deciding to archive the raw, truthful photos of me as well- bushy eyebrows, chipped toe nail polish, and everything in between. I owe it to myself and the generations behind me. I think my family will thank me for it.