I Let My 3-Year-Old Become A Child Model — 'Big Mistake, Huge'
Letting my three-year-old become a model was one of the worst parenting decisions I've ever made.
joliphoto | Canva "Great, perfect, beautiful! Oh, so beautiful! That is exactly what I want to see gorgeous, work it for the camera, lean in baby, lean in! What a natural you are, so BEAUTIFUL!"
Those are the words that every model wants to hear, words that made me sick to my stomach because this model, this beautiful model working it for the camera, was my three-year-old daughter.
Yes, I let my three-year-old become a child model.
She was eleven months old when she was scouted at a playground by a woman who handed me a business card, told me that my daughter was gorgeous, and said she would love it if I would send a few pictures of her to the agency.
altanaka / Shutterstock
I was skeptical at first. A playground? A random woman handing me her business card after apparently singling out my child?
It had "strange" written all over it, but I won't lie: I was also intrigued. I looked the company up online and realized that it was one of the largest talent agencies in the city, representing a few big names.
I took a few weeks to think about it and decided, what could it hurt? It would be a fun experience for my daughter to talk about when she is older and we might get a few good pictures out of it.
I considered all the things my daughter would learn from child modeling:: self-confidence, how to interact with adults, and poise and grace.
I figured: it was not something she had to do forever. I sent a few pictures of her to the agency and two weeks later I got a call asking if I could bring her in for a test shoot.
We went in for the test shoot and then a week later for a follow-up "interview," where they put her in front of a video camera, taped her reaction to strangers, loud noises, and flashing lights, and watched how she followed directions. My husband and I signed the contract the next day.
What proceeded was a flurry of headshots, measurements, fittings, and small bookings. I was unprepared for how much work it would be. The agency made it sound like it would be a wonderful family experience. "Your daughter will love it! She will fit right in here! Look how happy she is playing with our director!"
Castings were the worst. What typically happened is that a booking agent would choose her photo from the agency's look book and then the agency would call us, along with the other potentials, for a test shoot.
A test shoot included a bunch of hopeful mothers and their dressed-up, overtired children cramming into a small room where no one is allowed to eat with their clothes on, touch their hair, touch each other, move from their chairs, or act like the children that they were.
Fun times. Not. To make matters worse, the other mothers didn't view you as a potential friend whose child was in the same activity as theirs, they viewed you as competition.
They didn't want to like you. They wanted to see your child fail so that theirs could succeed. So not only was I trapped in a small room with a bunch of grouchy children, but I was trapped in a small room with a bunch of grouchy children and their glaring mothers.
Not long after joining the agency, my daughter won an award, and suddenly we weren't just being sent on small mom-and-pop photo shoots— child modeling became an actual job. My three-year-old had an actual job.
I know it seems ridiculous that I would sign my child to a modeling agency and not expect it to be a real job, but let's be honest: most models don't ever get very far.
I've known quite a few mothers with child models who have never done anything more than a test shot or two. I naïvely and stupidly believed that this would be a novelty experience that would be over as soon as it had started.
Now all of a sudden, because of my ignorance, my child had an actual job in a very adult world. While there were a few professional photographers, most of them made my skin crawl.
One day, I found myself standing against the wall of a studio, in the shadows. I was listening to a photographer talk to my four-year-old daughter. "Beautiful! I love the way you are looking at me! Keep doing just that, love those eyes, love that smile, love the beautiful girl! Work it for me, work it, baby!"
New Africa / Shutterstock
That night as I packed up our belongings and loaded her into the car, I knew my daughter's modeling career was over — this was not the life I wanted for her.
I buckled her into her car seat, pulled out of the lot, and knew I was never taking her back. I think every mother looks at their daughter and envisions the entire life ahead of them, a life built on the wonderful attributes that are them. A life based on the respect we teach them to demand and the qualities that they portray to the world.
What was my daughter learning? That people fawned all over her because of her looks? That it was good to be admired by significantly older men?
That she was supposed to just sit there, not talk, take directions and look pretty? That she was only allowed to be who someone else wanted her to be? This was not what I wanted for her, and as her mother, this was not what I wanted to teach her.
I want to raise a daughter that knows she has a voice. I want to raise a daughter that knows her most important features aren't physical. I want to raise my daughter in a world where her peers around her want her to succeed, not fail. Most of all, I want to raise her in a world where she demands self-respect.
My daughter is more than just a pretty girl to be molded into what people want to see and as her mother, it is my job to teach her that.
Signing my daughter with a child talent agency was one of the worst decisions that I have made in my parenting career. I signed her because I thought it would teach her the skills she would need to portray herself as a confident young woman, but instead, she was taught to be anybody but herself.
I thought I was doing what was best for my daughter but in reality, I signed away the opportunity to let her discover who she is on her terms.
I signed away her right to be herself: child modeling was one the worst parenting decisions I've ever made.
Eden Strong is a regular contributor to a variety of digital outlets, including Lifetime Moms, XOJane, Scary Mommy, Catster, and Dogster.