Forced to Smile
Response to Dancing Elephants prompt 2 of 52
“Smile,” my mother hissed at me through clenched teeth.
“I don’t have anything to smile about.”
“It will make you look pretty.”
“I don’t care.”
“People will be more likely to come up and talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“You’re hopeless! How will you ever become popular?”
“I have absolutely no interest in becoming popular.”
That conversation, or one like it, was repeated at the beginning of every school year throughout my childhood. Every time I switched schools, my mother held out hope that in this new environment, her bookish daughter would somehow transform into a popular socialite. I think my mother finally gave up trying to force me to smile during my junior year in college.
It’s not that I was like Wednesday Addams and didn’t know how to smile. I had a great smile. People said it was radiant and lit up a room.
Maybe because I only smiled when I was genuinely happy and wanted to share that emotion with those around me. It wasn’t that my smile was anything special. It’s that it was how I released and shared my emotions of love, happiness, and a desire for connection with those around me.
Even when I got a picture taken, once I got to a certain age, I refused to do the rictus grin of saying, “Cheese!” Instead, I’d imagine some wonderful thing just on the other side of the camera. I’d focus all of my love, joy, and desire for connection on that spot behind the camera.
I looked fabulous in the photos. There was one lady at my aunt’s church who wanted me to marry her son because she said I looked like the Madonna (Mary, mother of Jesus, not the pop star). Hardly a good basis for a marriage, if you ask me, but it shows the power of a heartfelt smile.
So now, when I go into a new situation, I do smile. It’s not because I want to put people at their ease, look pretty, or become popular. It’s because I’ve learned to honestly value the connection with other human beings, and that radiant joy of connection comes out in a smile.
When I have to make phone calls (which I hate), I smile before calling. People can hear the smile. Not because my words sound different when my lips are tipped up. But because my heart is open, and I approach them with that attitude. Yes, even if I’m calling customer service, I know that I can either make their day better or worse, and I want to make it better.
So, in a way, my mother was right. It was important for me to smile. She just had the idea from the wrong end. The smile isn’t what’s important. It’s the love and joy in your heart expressed by the smile that matters.
This is a response to the prompt by Dr. Preeti Singh:
Read all of my responses (so far) to the Dancing Elephants Press 52 weekly writing prompts:
