I Stopped Smiling During the Pandemic, and It Feels Liberating

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It turns out that the habitual act of smiling can truly drain your spirit, reducing it to mere ashes.

In my college years, I worked the early morning shift at a coffee shop, forcing myself to rise by 5:30 a.m., bleary-eyed and completely unfit for interaction. Yet, as the familiar customers arrived with their travel mugs, I stifled my yawns and plastered a smile on my face, akin to a name tag. For six hours each morning, I transformed into the cheerful barista, ready to serve caffeine and positivity.

My experience in customer service ingrained in me a compulsion to smile, whether anyone was watching or not. I smiled at the postal worker handling my packages, the garbage collectors passing by, and even the weary dad at school pick-up. In my younger days, I smiled at men who took up too much space on the train, professors enamored with their own voices, and male colleagues who commented on my attire. My smile acted as a protective shield against any notion that I might not be a pleasant and harmless member of society.

However, I realized that the constant obligation to smile can sap your soul.

As a child, I was often sullen. Old photos from the ’90s depict me with a scowl reminiscent of a grunge band frontman. As a teen, I compensated for those unsmiling years by beaming at anyone who crossed my path. I learned that for women, a smile can be a currency or, in dire situations, a survival strategy. It can ease tensions, make one seem approachable, and in my Vietnamese American family, a smile was synonymous with femininity—a valued trait. To disarm others—often those in authority—I smiled, silently conveying, “I may be different, but I’m nice!” My armor remained intact.

A friend recounted a chilling experience with a hostile contractor in her home. To quell his aggression, she felt forced to shower him with kindness, fearing his reaction. After he left, she could finally breathe, relieved. For women, angering a man—a flirty stranger, a superior, or anyone perceived as powerful—can lead to frightening consequences.

In one instance at an airport in Saigon, amidst the distress of losing my luggage, a stranger approached me, invading my personal space. He gestured an exaggerated smile and declared, “Where’s your smile? Pretty girls should always smile.” To my eternal regret, I smiled back, simply because he instructed me to.

This pattern persisted for years until I became a mother. From the moment my daughter opened her tiny fists, I found myself fiercely protective of her autonomy. Occasionally, I would glance at her through the car mirror and see her resting face—not angry or sad, just not smiling. I’d prod, “Are you okay? Sure, honey?” until she offered a forced grin for my sake, making me realize I was asking her to perform happiness for my comfort, just as society had demanded of me and countless other women all along.

When the pandemic hit, in-person interactions dwindled. When I did venture out, wearing masks liberated me: No one could see my mouth, allowing me to express myself freely—smiling, frowning, or anything in between—without judgment. This newfound freedom relaxed my face in a way I hadn’t experienced in years. Not smiling felt euphoric; I could engage authentically without the burden of social expectations. Those masks provided protection beyond the physical.

These days, I smile far less frequently, and it doesn’t bother me. When I do smile, it’s genuine, sparked by delightful moments with my daughter, a friend’s joke, my husband’s weekend treat run, or a funny tweet. I no longer smile at tedious meetings, microaggressions, or unwanted attention—things I once brushed off. I might be a little less agreeable to some, as my smiles are harder to earn, no longer used as a social lubricant.

But despite the reduction in my smiles, I’m happier than ever. This joy—authentic, spontaneous, and free from gender norms—is what I hope to impart to my daughter, who discovers genuine ways to express herself every day.

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Summary:

The author’s journey reflects a shift from forced smiles for societal acceptance to embracing authentic expressions of joy. The pandemic provided a unique opportunity to shed the need to smile constantly, leading to a newfound happiness in being true to oneself. This narrative underscores the importance of modeling genuine self-expression for future generations.