Diary of a Gen Z student: I was told to smile while in Dublin — can a girl not just have a face?

Jane Cowan: 'The incident happened at perhaps the most hellish section of Dublin’s Grafton Street. Close to the top, by the Disney Store.' Picture: iStock.

There are certain things about being a woman in Ireland that I was born too late to experience. Things like the marriage bar, lack of access to contraception, using tea bags as fake tan; I swerved them all.

I was never told I’d need to be able to darn the socks of my future family. And I’ve never considered the idea that I’d need any kind of cooking repertoire to secure a husband. I’d happily let a man go hungry before catering to any such expectations, if I’m honest.

One thing I was unfortunately not born too late to experience happened to me for the first time recently: being told to smile by a random man in the street. It was one of those moments where I realised I was a bad feminist.

I had always assumed that was something that only happened in movies. I was naive. Surely, no man is insufferable enough to think he can command my facial expressions while I walk around town? Well, remind me to lower my bloody expectations of the general public.

Last week, I was walking through Dublin city centre on a sunny morning. I was tired, a little hungover. I was just trying to buy a coffee. He was just trying to get on my last nerve, apparently. 

The incident happened at perhaps the most hellish section of Dublin’s Grafton Street. Close to the top, by the Disney Store. Some busker on a unicycle had attracted a crowd that was blocking up half the street. All I wanted was an overpriced iced oat milk latte, but the universe had other plans.

As I shuffled and side-stepped my way through the reams of people, my facial expressions, frankly, the last thing on my mind, the man in question decided to very helpfully remind me to smile. Rather, that I had his permission to smile. “You can smile, love” were his exact words. I mean, the brass neck!

Of course, I did not respond and kept walking. But he could have really said that to the wrong lady. One who would have given him a smack or responded with a good expletive instead of writing a newspaper column with her outrage.

Though I wish I had been feeling a little more sassy in the moment, I am finding a bit of comfort in knowing that while I didn’t verbally respond to this irking, my face probably did. You see, I’m the kind of person whose face comes with subtitles. 

If I’m a bit hungover and navigating a busy street, my face might reflect my slight frustration. If a stranger tells me to smile, I’m fairly sure said stranger would have a fair idea of my feelings on the matter. 

He was already unimpressed by my face when he decided to recommend a smile. I hope he was a little unsettled by the angry contorting of my eyebrows and twitching of my mouth that soon followed.

In retrospect, I wish I’d had some sort of quick-witted retort. Maybe telling him that the reason I wasn’t smiling is because his disappearing hairline scared me. Or asking him if it’s a recurring problem that women don’t smile in his presence. I could have asked him if he would ever dream of telling a random man to smile.

But for all of my thinking about how I would let a man starve before submitting to a life in the kitchen against my will, I found my response somewhat underwhelming, when it came down to it.

Jane Cowan: 'I could point out all that obvious stuff about my face not being an ornament for the entertainment of strangers. But we all know that.' Picture: Moya Nolan

Instead, I drank my iced coffee, totally overcome by anger. Thankfully though, with all the ruminating I’ve done on this over the past week, I’ll be armed with responses for the next unsuspecting man that tests my patience.

I could point out all that obvious stuff about my face not being an ornament for the entertainment of strangers. But we all know that. And I feel a bit sorry for the guy.

I can imagine how difficult it must be to date if you’re made uncomfortable by the range of emotions that a woman’s face can exhibit. Particularly because I imagine they show a wide range of them when they find themselves in your presence.

I know certain (male) readers will say I sound like the woke police. But seriously, can a girl not just have a face? One that isn’t immutably delighted? This all happened within half an hour of my eyes opening for the day. 

I could have done with some caffeine before being reminded that eejit men are alive and well. I should be entitled to compensation at the very least.