As a professor who teaches writing courses—whether first-year composition, technical writing, or professional writing—I place a strong emphasis on genre and genre analysis. Genres, after all, are not just types of texts; they are dynamic responses to social and communicative needs. They shape how we interact with the world, from sending a text message to writing an email to a boss, from Instagramming to expressing grief at a funeral. Each genre reflects social hierarchies, historical contexts, technological advancements, and cultural norms. My Facebook profile picture, an artifact that might seem simple at first glance, is a perfect example of how genres and artifacts can encapsulate personal, social, economic, and even political dimensions of our lives.
The Oddities That Make It Perfect
Let’s start with the oddities. This picture was taken at home by my children, not in a studio by a professional photographer. The lighting isn’t perfect, the background is my living room, and my height—something I’ve always been conscious of—is unmistakably visible. At times, I’ve felt the urge to change it. Friends have suggested, more than once, that I replace it with something more polished, more “professional.” But every time I consider swapping it out, I stop. Why? Because this picture, with all its imperfections, feels like the truest representation of who I am.
The oddities in the photo are a reflection of my life. I’m a professor at a prestigious university in the U.S. and at a college in Canada, yet I chose to get an Ontario realtor license during the COVID-19 pandemic, a time of global uncertainty. The picture was taken in June 2020, just after I earned my Ontario Real Estate License. It was a moment of professional achievement, but also a moment of personal reflection. I didn’t go to a professional photographer for several reasons: the pandemic restrictions, my financial prudence, and perhaps most importantly, my desire to present myself as both a professional and a down-to-earth person. The result is an image that captures my duality—a scholar and a realtor, a professional and a family man, someone who critiques societal flaws while embracing his own imperfections.
A Response to Social Expectations (Carolyn Miller’s Genre Theory)
Carolyn Miller’s theory of genre as social action helps explain why this picture works. Genres, she argues, are not just templates but responses to recurring social situations. My profile picture responds to the genre of professional headshots, but it also challenges it. Traditionally, a professional headshot is polished, formal, and often impersonal. Mine, on the other hand, is homegrown, authentic, and deeply personal. It reflects the social changes brought about by the pandemic, when many of us had to adapt to new ways of working and presenting ourselves. It also reflects my cultural values as a Nepalese individual—values that emphasize humility, modesty, and resourcefulness.
The picture also responds to the expectations of my dual roles. As a professor, I’m expected to project intellectual authority; as a realtor, I’m expected to be approachable and trustworthy. This image strikes a balance between the two. The suit signals professionalism, while the home setting and the involvement of my children add a touch of warmth and relatability. It’s a visual negotiation of my multifaceted identity.
Why I Can’t Change It
I’ve tried to change this picture many times. I’ve browsed through other photos, considered retaking it, and even experimented with editing tools. But each time, I come back to the same conclusion: there’s no other picture that represents me as fully as this one. Its imperfections are part of its charm. The slightly awkward pose, the homemade quality, the visible height—they all tell a story. They remind me of where I was in June 2020, navigating a global crisis while pursuing a new career. They remind me of my children, who took the photo and are an integral part of my life. They remind me of my values—authenticity, humility, and a willingness to critique societal norms, as I did in my blog post on the dark side of Nepalese cultural entrepreneurship in Canada.
Friends who suggest changing the picture mean well. They want me to present the “best” version of myself. But what they don’t realize is that this is the best version of me—not because it’s flawless, but because it’s real. It captures my priorities, my circumstances, and my identity in a way that no studio photo ever could.
The Significance of Artifacts in Representing Broader Issues
Artifacts like this profile picture are not just personal; they are deeply connected to social, economic, historical, and political contexts. Scholars like Charles Bazerman and Amy Devitt have emphasized how genres and artifacts mediate social interactions and reflect broader cultural and institutional practices. Bazerman, for instance, argues that genres are tools for navigating complex social systems, while Devitt highlights how genres evolve in response to changing social needs. My profile picture, as an artifact, embodies these ideas. It reflects the economic constraints of the pandemic, the historical moment of global disruption, and the social expectation to present oneself professionally while staying authentic.
Moreover, the picture speaks to the politics of representation. In a world where social media often encourages us to curate idealized versions of ourselves, this image challenges the norm. It’s a statement about embracing imperfections and resisting the pressure to conform to societal standards of perfection. It’s also a critique of the commercialization of professional identity—why spend hundreds of dollars on a studio photo when a homemade image can tell a richer story?
A Reflection on Identity and Society
This picture is more than just a representation of me; it’s a reflection of my family, my society, and my time. It was taken during a historical moment—the COVID-19 pandemic—when traditional norms were upended, and authenticity became more valuable than perfection. It reflects my cultural background, where humility and modesty are prized, and my professional environment, where credibility and approachability are essential. It even reflects my role as a critic of societal practices, as someone who values truth over sugar-coated narratives.
In a world where social media often encourages us to curate idealized versions of ourselves, this picture stands as a testament to the power of authenticity. It’s a reminder that our imperfections are what make us unique, and that the best representation of ourselves is often the one that tells the fullest story.
Conclusion: Embracing the Oddities
So, here it stays—my profile picture, with all its oddities and imperfections. It’s not just a picture; it’s a statement. It says that I am a professor, a realtor, a husband, a father, and a critic of societal flaws. It says that I value authenticity over polish, and that I’m proud of who I am, even if I don’t fit conventional molds. It’s a picture that responds to social expectations while staying true to my identity. And for all these reasons, I can’t imagine replacing it.
In the end, this picture isn’t just about me. It’s about all of us—our struggles, our triumphs, and the ways we navigate the complexities of life. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful artifacts are the ones that aren’t perfect, but are perfectly us.
