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The grade was an “A,” but the comment on my report card felt like a ruler snapping against my knuckles. My teacher had no issues with my academic performance, but he criticized my “attitude” in class. The problem? My facial expressions, which he interpreted as disrespectful due to my lack of smiling.
In simpler terms, at 15, I had what many refer to as Resting Bitch Face (RBF). This term gained popularity in the early 2000s to describe a person whose neutral face appears annoyed or upset. It’s often aimed at women, reinforcing the notion that they should always look friendly. If they don’t, they’re labeled as “bitchy.”
Fortunately, my mother recognized this issue long before RBF became a buzzword. She consistently advocated for me in school, knowing that overprotective parenting doesn’t serve children well. However, she was ready to tackle this particular challenge.
She promptly set up a meeting with my teacher, and while I was anxious, she emphasized the value of creating a personal connection to help him understand my true demeanor better. Her goal was not only to enhance our future interactions but also to help him see beyond my unsmiling face.
As a mom of both daughters and a son, I witness daily the differing expectations placed on them. My daughters have been playfully teased by teachers for not smiling at school drop-off. Given the early hour and chilly weather, it’s hardly surprising! Yet, no one has commented on my son’s expression.
Decades ago, my mother noted this gender bias, and when I initially felt the need to apologize for my neutral expression, she reminded me that there was nothing wrong with it. The meeting she arranged was not an admission of guilt but an opportunity for my teacher to understand me better. She was correct—by the end of high school, I received a college recommendation and an award from him.
I could never dream of telling my kids to smile more, except during our annual family photo shoot. They show their emotions honestly; they smile when happy, cry when sad, and express anger in their own unique ways. Their faces are perfect just as they are.
I hope my mother, an early fighter against RBF, will live to see this term fade into obscurity. In the meantime, let’s continue to embrace our complex expressions, as they are a fundamental part of who we are.
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Summary
This article reflects on the author’s experience with facial expression bias in high school, highlighting how her mother advocated on her behalf to combat societal expectations of female expressions. It discusses the implications of RBF and the double standards faced by women and girls today.