On Privacy

                                   

My favorite part of the school day was getting dressed for class. (It seems frivolous to go on about this, but hear me out.) I’ve spent my junior year developing a personal aesthetic. I started wearing clothes that I feel accurately represent myself. The way I expressed myself externally finally reflected the way I’ve perceived myself internally.

When I got dressed, I would try on new colors, new pieces, and new arrangements that felt like myself. I’m not a fashion expert by any means, but I took pride in what I looked like every day because I was confident in my choices.

However, since classes have moved online, that’s changed. Now, I lay in bed, without the carefully curated version of myself that I want to show the class that day. Getting dressed every morning gave me control over the way I was perceived by my classmates. Now, I’ve lost the desire to put what I feel is my best face forward. In fact, I might be showing my worst face. 

I cycle through the same pajamas every week, struggling to find the motivation to put pants on. Now, my motivation to look presentable “in class” is driven by my need for comfort. How can I be the most comfortable I can be when I look like crap in my pajamas? The struggle between presentability and comfort resulted in my finding the right angle to hold my laptop Comfort beat presentation every time.

I also got to decorate my own room for the first time this semester. Customized to my taste, it’s a sanctuary for me, where I can retreat from the tribulations of outside. It’s a representation of my interests and values that don’t usually have a place in classroom settings. My room is my space. It’s where I find solace and comfort, and it where I can be my unadulterated self, free of judgment. With Zoom, my discretion for who is allowed to see my space disappears. Video calls invite anyone to make assumptions about how I live and how I think of myself privately.

By choosing comfort, I’ve sacrificed my treasured space by exposing different angles of my room, giving my classes a glimpse into what my life might be like outside of class.

 These photos are some of the different parts of my room that my classmates see while I’m on Zoom with them.

In other ways the pressure to be presentable has been beneficial to my space. For example, I’ve had to compromise the comforting mess of my room to make it look presentable when on calls. Whether that be making my bed or storing away the heaps of laundry. I’ve exchanged cosmetic upkeep for domestic care. If people are going to be judging my home, I should make it look as good as possible.

This unrestricted access manifests itself in different ways for many people. For example, some of my friends are in shared spaces with their families, so they’re susceptible to their spontaneous appearances and occurrences. When you come to class, you don’t carry that with you. But maybe that’s the key to getting through this: letting people in. Right now, we are seeing humanity at its worst and its best. Seeing everyone in their safe places could encourage us to be more empathetic with each other. In a time where we’re so disconnected from each other, this kind of transparency could be the answer to finding comfort in our collective isolation.

By Astrid Kayembe