The way I see myself has been shaped by the comments I’ve heard from my parents since childhood. People often say that gender is reflected in how you dress or the accessories you use. I don’t attend many family weddings, functions or cultural events. I’ve often been told that I “look like a boy” because I wear “boyish” clothes: T-shirts, jeans, and sometimes slippers from the men’s section. As a result, I feel I’m often unable to match the required festive vibes.“You look like a boy.”“Why don’t you dress like your sister?”These are things I’ve grown used to hearing. Sometimes, they turn into conversations when my mother is around. But my mother usually smiles and says, “Let her be.”Once, at a cousin’s wedding, someone pointedly asked me in front of my mother: “Look at the other girls. Why didn’t you wear makeup or dress like them? Aren’t you a girl? If you stay like this, who is going to marry you?”Illustration: Pariplab ChakrabortyMy mother calmly responded, “Let her be the way she likes. Of course, someone will find her good.”If my mother had been like the others, constantly reminding me to change to satisfy people’s expectations, I don’t think I would have learned to love myself. I love my blonde hair. I love my dotted skin complexion. People have told me to dye my hair and use creams to make my face look softer and more “glowy”. But my self-love has always been rooted in my mother’s acceptance. I love myself the way she has always loved me.But this love has layers. I realised this recently when I got my first “boyish” haircut.I stay away from my parents at my university residence. A week after my haircut, I went home. On the bus, the conductor hesitated before issuing me a free ticket for women. In that moment, I realised how much I resembled what people meant by a boy.Then I reached home.My mother looked at me and said, “Don’t touch me. I had told you not to cut your hair this short, You are not my daughter.”I asked myself: how does changing my appearance change how she feels about me? I knew it wasn’t just about her. It was about how others would respond – neighbours, relatives, everyone.What disappointed me wasn’t just her reaction to my haircut, but the fact that she didn’t pause to consider that I liked the way I looked, perhaps more than anyone else did.We are constantly shaped by the need to satisfy other people’s eyes. We are taught, by default, to think about how we appear to others.How will my boyfriend see me in this dress?What will my friends say about these accessories?Sailing through these small discomforts, day after day, slowly moulds us into someone else – a personality shaped not by ourselves, but by countless eyes watching and passing comments.Today, I do like a few “girlie” dresses, and I’ve started wearing them too. That, of course, has nothing to do with my gender. The constant tension between how I see myself and how others perceive me has always been there. The best part of this resistance, however, has been my mother’s acceptance.That day, when my mother reacted the way she did, I didn’t feel angry. I just felt the absence of something I had always relied on – her quiet solidarity.But even in that moment, I realised something else. The version of love she had given me all these years had already done its work. It has taught me to see myself beyond mirrors and opinions.And today, no matter what I hear, I do what I love and wear what I love. After all, that love continues to grow, just as it always has.Because sometimes, all it takes is one person, one sentence, one act of acceptance – to help you feel at home in your skin, body, and of course, in your own eyes.Apoorva Vascha is a development studies postgraduate student and an amateur photographer.We’ve grown up hearing that “it’s the small things” that matter. That’s true, of course, but it’s also not – there are Big Things that we know matter, and that we shouldn’t take our eyes, minds or hearts off of. As journalists, we spend most of our time looking at those Big Things, trying to understand them, break them down, and bring them to you.And now we’re looking to you to also think about the small things – the joy that comes from a strangers’ kindness, incidents that leave you feeling warm, an unexpected conversation that made you happy, finding spaces of solidarity. Write to us about your small things at thewiresmallthings@gmail.com in 800 words or less, and we will publish selected submissions. We look forward to reading about your experiences, because even small things can bring big joys.Read the series here.