They may be the greatest visual feminist act since the famous bra burners of the ’70s unsnapped and lit up.
Last month on a solo work trip to France I spent an afternoon sightseeing and politely rejecting multiple offers from members of the group I was with to take my picture for me. A mostly older crowd, they had seen me snapping myself against the stunning backdrop and rushed to offer assistance as though I were handicapped in some way.
But I didn’t want their help. My selfieing wasn’t an act of solo desperation, it was simply that I knew how I wanted to look, and I knew I could do it better on my own. See, when it comes to photos of myself, I prefer the selfie.
I can’t be alone in this. Presumably, in the nearly five years since Instagram launched, we have all realized that we take our own best pictures. With few exceptions, I prefer to be in charge of my own image.