“What if my children find these photos of me?”
That’s a common sentiment that I’ve heard from women, clients included. Some say it as a concern, or a fear, or a reason to get the smallest album I offer so they can tuck it away more easily… and others use it as an excuse to forgo doing a session altogether.
I have a lot of thoughts that I could share in response, but instead I’m going to tell you a story. An intimate, powerful story that my friend Sarah shared with me recently that stopped me in my tracks (and immediately prompted me to ask if I could also share it)…
My friend Sarah’s mom passed away a couple months ago. Her mom was compassionate, adventurous, loved to laugh, and was unwavering in her Christian faith. But she, like so many women, was also her own harshest critic. She grew up in a cycle of judgment passed down through generations, amplified by media, and exploited by industries that profit from insecurity. She was shaped by a culture that relentlessly scrutinizes women’s bodies. Thus Sarah only ever heard negative self-talk from her mom.
In the following days after her mom passed, Sarah was going through her stuff and stumbled upon a box of photos in a closet. Photos her mom had saved from throughout her life. And to Sarah’s surprise AND genuine excitement, there were also boudoir photos in there.
Her mom had once mentioned briefly to Sarah that she had taken boudoir photos, but the way she talked about it felt like it was from a point of embarrassment or shame. Definitely not a proud “look what I did!” attitude. And she kept those intimate photos tucked away and hidden for the rest of her earthly life.
But upon finding the photos and looking through them, Sarah was thrilled to get to see a part of her mom’s life before she was even born. To see the “sassy and sexy” side of her mom come out, which she never really got to see in-person.
Her mom may have never loved her body “in the moment” during Sarah’s life, but Sarah could see the confidence radiating through these images. And she was overwhelmed with pride that her mom was brave enough to celebrate herself at least in the moments that she took those photos… How special it was to get a glimpse of her in that phase of life. And how honored Sarah felt to know that she’s one of the very few eyes that got to take in the beauty of these images.
She’ll keep them safe, secure, guarded, and cherished.
Sarah’s only wish is that she could’ve told her mom how beautiful she looked in these images and how proud of her she was.
Maybe the question isn’t “what if my children find these photos?” but “why does that possibility make me uncomfortable?” What is it about seeing ourselves — fully, honestly, and without apology — that feels risky? These images might be intimate, but they’re also real. They hold pieces of who we are that often go unseen.
And if someone were to come across them — someone who loves us, someone who wants to understand us deeply — what would they actually see?
Could seeing the beauty, strength, confidence, bravery, & complexity of someone they love be an important lesson? Could these photos teach them that we are allowed to exist in ways that feel authentic, that we are more than one version of ourselves, and that there’s no shame in embracing, loving, and celebrating the skin we’re in?
Maybe that’s worth passing down.
