We learn who we are by being seen.
A baby smiles, and someone smiles back.
A child cries, and someone kneels down to say, I see you.
Over time, that feedback loop becomes a mirror.
But what happens when the mirror doesn’t reflect back?
When joy isn’t mirrored? When pain is met with blankness?
We start to wonder if we felt it wrong.
That editing turns into performing.
The performance turns into a personality.
And the mirror? It becomes less about reflection and more about approval.
You can’t become yourself without being seen.
And sometimes, that means seeing yourself first.
For some, makeup is a costume. For others, it’s camouflage.
But for a few—it’s a quiet rebellion.
A chance to mark the face as theirs.
To say: I decide what this reflection means.
We can’t control the mirrors we were handed.
But we can build new ones.
Starting with the one on your vanity.
