by AMY ANDERSON
Warning: This post is a little bit of a rant.
Earlier this month, Aubrey and I took a trip to Minnesota to visit my family and participate in a fundraising event. However, since Aubrey was recognized so many times by passersby, parts of our trip were ruined. Even when we were visiting my great-grandmother in her nursing home, the nursing staff paraded by the room, one at a time, to gawk at Aubrey.
Now, before I start whining about how our lives are so hard because my 7-year-old is so famous and rich, I’d like to say that we are really happy people. We are very fortunate people, and we love this crazy roller coaster we’re riding.
But here’s the big, fat “but.” For both of us, one of the least favorite parts of Aubrey’s fame has been the loss of her anonymity. Choosing a career that’s in the public spotlight comes with a price, and it’s a price that I think all performers should be willing to live with. But no one, especially not a child, deserves to be disrespected and have his or her personal space invaded.
The good news is that most people who want to meet Aubrey are friendly and have the decency to approach me first, recognizing that it’s creepy for a strange adult to walk up to a little girl and ask to take a selfie with them. Seriously, think about that for a second.
Occasionally, Aubrey enjoys taking photos with fans or signing autographs. But most of the time, she doesn’t. Like me, she is an introvert. I have always told Aubrey that it’s her decision whether or not to speak to fans, and I reassure her that I will always protect her.
Sometimes, people say, “She looks just like that little girl on Modern Family,” and I answer, “Yeah, we get that a lot.” Then we exit, stage left.
For the photo seekers, it’s not quite as easy. I now have a standard list of responses:
“She’s really tired right now.”
“She’s very shy.”
“She’s had a long day at work.”
“Sorry, but we’re in a hurry.”
It’s at this point that people will show their true colors. Most people understand and say something kind like, “We really love her on the show,” and then move along. But every once in a while, a weird entitlement rears its ugly head and people get angry and aggressive. They nag and persist or they shove a camera in front of Aubrey’s face—like literally put a smartphone camera right in her face. I’ve even had people send me angry emails because Aubrey wouldn’t pose for a picture or talk with them. And they call me rude.
I have been yelled at and called a bad mother in the past all because I wouldn’t let a stranger take a picture with my child. This is when mama bear has to step it up and protect her cub. It is my job to be alert and to handle each situation appropriately, putting my daughter’s safety and our sanity above all else.
Aubrey loves acting and singing, but she doesn’t love being famous. She loves watching herself on TV and performing on stage, but she doesn’t like talking to strangers. It’s hard for some people not to take this personally because when they meet someone they watch on TV every week, they think they know the person.
Just last week, a woman kept calling Aubrey, “Lily.” When I politely said, “Her name is Aubrey,” the woman responded, “Well, whatever. It’s just Lily to me.”
These people don’t realize that Aubrey is a real girl. She is a real child who has real feelings and real opinions. She may not be living a normal 7-year-old’s life, but she is a normal 7-year-old.
I have been working to help Aubrey understand how her fame can be a good thing—that simple actions by people who are recognizable can help a lot of people. She has participated in several charity events and especially loves donating her time to organizations that benefit children. By focusing on the positive impact she can make, I hope she can learn to manage the uncomfortable part of fame in a healthy way—if there is such a thing.
So, readers, I leave you with this: If you ever consider approaching a child celebrity, remember that the child is a human being, and that your interaction with her might change her perception of the world forever. It’s probably best if you remain unmemorable.
Reflecting on this subject made me recall a poem that I’ve loved for a long time. I first read the poem in high school. Since then, the words have evolved into a completely different but absolutely relevant message, and I see my daughter’s face so clearly when I read it.
This face you got,
This here phizzog you carry around,
You never picked it out for yourself
at all, at all—-did you?
This here phizzog—-somebody handed it
to you–am I right?
Somebody said, “Here’s yours, now go see
what you can do with it.”
Somebody slipped it to you and it was like
a package marked:
“No goods exchanged after being taken away”—-
This face you got.
– “Phizzog” by Carl Sandburg
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Amy Anderson is a Korean American adoptee, comedian and actress. She created and hosted the first Asian American standup showcase “ChopSchtick Comedy” at the Hollywood Improv. She has appeared on Comedy Central, VH1, AZN, and the Game Show Network. Her daughter Aubrey Anderson-Emmons plays the role of Lily on the Emmy-winning show Modern Family.
The Hollywood Mamalogues will be published online biweekly. Read the previous Mamalogue here.
Photos courtesy of Amy Anderson.
