These three simple words echo in my ears at least once a week. I hear them at the park, the museum, the grocery store, or even the mall: “Look at her!”
These words often come from older toddlers, elementary school children, groups of teenagers, and, regrettably, sometimes from adults as well. They are directed at my beloved daughter, 4-year-old Mia, who was born with a rare skin condition that causes her skin to malfunction, leading to rapid buildup and making her vulnerable to infections, sensitive to heat, and giving her an appearance similar to a severe sunburn covering her body.
Look at her? Look at this child who appears so different from you?
Yes, look at her. Observe her radiant smile that lights up her face as she shares a mischievous laugh that is utterly contagious.
Look at her strikingly beautiful eyes, reminiscent of the ocean on a clear day. Her bright blue eyes glimmer with joy and mischief, particularly when she is teasing her brother or playing hide and seek. Yet, they widen with worry every time she hears about a hospital or doctor’s visit, fearful of needles or having her blood pressure taken.
Look at her. Watch her dance to her favorite songs, twirling in her dress as she raises her arms to “shake it off.” Notice how she instantly sways her head and upper body to any rhythm, even while seated, and hear her sweet voice trying to sing along with lengthy lyrics.
Look at her as she embraces new challenges, tackling physical feats that most of her peers mastered long ago. Witness her exhilaration as she slides down the park slide for the first time or climbs a set of stairs independently, bursting with pride over these small yet significant achievements.
Look at her. Listen to her display of compassion as she inquires about a little boy crying across the room or wonders why a woman at the grocery store seems unwell. Her empathy has flourished due to her own health struggles, hospital stays, and surgeries.
Look at her excitement, whether at the playground, library, or store. Wherever she is, Mia radiates enthusiasm to be around others, play with new friends, and explore fresh experiences in social settings.
Look at her. Observe the questioning expression on her face as her parents explain for the fifth time that day that no, she isn’t sunburned; this is simply how she was born. Watch how she reacts when she hears her parents tell another child to stop being unkind when they use words like “weird” or “creepy.”
Look at her spirit each day. Though it often manifests as typical 4-year-old stubbornness, this tenacity reassures her parents that she will stand strong in the face of adversity as she grows.
When you glance at my daughter for the first time, it’s likely you’ll be surprised by her peeling red skin, slick with lotion. You are not the first to notice, and you won’t be the last.
But I hope you understand there’s so much more to Mia’s story than what meets the eye. There is a wealth of depth to this remarkable individual beyond your initial impression. So, the next time you see my daughter or anyone who appears different, please take a moment to look deeper.
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In summary, this reflection encourages us to see beyond the surface of individuals who may seem different. By acknowledging their unique stories, we foster empathy and understanding in our communities.