The photographer who sat quietly in the room


The photographer who sat quietly in the room

The photographer who sat quietly in the room

I can still imagine myself sitting in a room with other photographers, nodding and smiling along with the conversation, I wanted to join in and share what I thought, to talk about the photos I’d made and why I’d made them.

But I held back.

I listened to other people speak with confidence, and somewhere inside, I decided they knew more than I did, they had more experience, more knowledge, perhaps more right to be there.

So I smiled. I nodded. I kept my thoughts to myself.

From the outside, I probably looked perfectly comfortable, but inside I was questioning myself.

I was self-taught, without qualifications or letters after my name, and I wondered whether my photographs were good enough to sit alongside everyone else’s.

Looking back, I recognise something in that version of myself that goes beyond photography.

I recognise the child who learned to be careful. The one who learned to read the room, keep the peace and avoid doing anything that might attract the wrong kind of attention.

I knew how to fit in and I knew how to make other people comfortable, but I hadn’t learned how to feel comfortable taking up space myself.

And years later, there I was, doing what had once helped me feel safer: staying quiet, watching everyone else, waiting until I was sure it was okay to speak….

Except I wasn’t a child anymore, i was a woman with my own experiences, my own perspective and my own photos to share, i just hadn’t yet learned to give those things the same value I gave to everyone else’s.

The difference now is that I have learned to understand what is happening, I don’t have to silence her or tell her she’s being ridiculous 

I can finally acknowledge that this feeling is familiar without allowing it to decide what I do next. I can be scared and still speak up for myself, I can doubt myself and still share my work, I can feel as though I don’t belong and still choose to take my place at the table. 

Trusting myself doesn’t mean never feeling afraid of being seen, it means no longer making myself smaller whenever that fear appears.

I no longer wait until I am certain I have something worth saying, I now allow myself to speak whilst the uncertainty is still there. 

Mel