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An Alternative Opinion
No, He Shouldn’t Tell You to Smile — But Maybe You Should
Perhaps wanting a smile from a Sista is no different than expecting a head nod from another Black man.
“Smile, girl.”
When the words fell out of the mouth of whatever random man I passed on the street, I would feel as though a match was lit in my chest.
I would look up to this stranger, only then becoming conscious of my face. A face that, up until that very moment, was doing what faces do. Taking in the world or being lost in thought, or just being the damn face that it was created to be.
I also became aware of the frustration — the lit match in my chest — and I had to decide: would I give in to this rudimentary request or would I dose the small flicker and make it into a flame. They asked for it, didn’t they? To think that I had to bless someone with the upward curl of my lips and flash of my teeth — teeth that never needed those multi-colored braces that I so wanted at 10 — just because it would appease some man? Ridiculous. I’d later decide that the entire concept of strangers feeling entitled to anything more than common courtesy was an annoying byproduct of the patriarchy.
