By O. Deng, TIWP Student

“I have been woman / for a long time / beware my smile.” —Audre Lorde

Beware of my smile. Just because I smile at you in the hallways doesn’t mean I like you, and just because I don’t, doesn’t mean I hate you. I smile at you when I feel like it, or I walk past you like you don’t exist. 

Beware of my smile. Just because I smile doesn’t mean I’m fine. And just because I don’t doesn’t mean I’m depressed. It’s not my fault I have a lethal RBF. 

Beware of my smile. Just because I smile doesn’t mean you’re funny. And when I don’t, that means you really weren’t funny. But when I can’t stop smiling when I see you and I laugh at everything you say, that’s when you know I love you.

Beware of my smile. I smile to seem more approachable and nice. People say I look mean when I don’t. Or maybe it’s because I try to look mean so no one will come talk to me. They won’t ever know how much I could say or laugh because they’ve never talked to me.

Beware of my smile. It usually means I’m hiding something. Smiling acts as a facade for me. Something I put on when I don’t want people to know how I actually feel. 

Beware of my smile. Because sometimes on the days I smile the most, I’m the most exhausted. Smiling is tiring. Conformity is tiring. Pretending everything is fine is tiring. Talking to people you don’t actually like is tiring.

I need to smile more.