Carly Findlay's Blog, page 30

I love you forever, Camille

It’s with immense sadness that I write about my best friend, Camille’s death. Camille – known as CurlyPops – had an incredibly full life, which we celebrated today. Today would also have been her 45th birthday.

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I know she wasn’t one for resting, so I bet her calendar is full to the brim, wherever she is now.

This is the speech I gave at her celebration today. You can watch it here.

Camille, 

Remember when we first met? Like most of my friendships, I met you online. It was 2010. You and I were both writing for a Government website called DiVine. I read a piece you wrote about being a blogger and enjoying craft and fashion, and how blogging brought you many friendships – connecting you with the world when you were unwell. This resonated with me. So I searched for you on Facebook and introduced myself. 

You sounded like my kind of friend. I hoped you’d accept my friend request. You did. We chatted online for a while, and in early 2011, we met for the first time. I was a bit nervous. Would I be fashionable enough for you?

I always meet people from the internet in a public space. So it was amusing that I met you in hospital. Of course you looked so stylish in hospital, you never wore a beige gown. I think whoever supplies the hospital clothing should have commissioned a line of Curlypops pyjamas from you. 

I took you some chocolate and a quilting magazine, and the woman in the bed next to you made a comment about how sunburnt I look. We laughed at that for years.

We became firm friends – hanging out regularly. You helped make so many of my events amazing with your creativity, including styling my wedding and being my bridesmaid – fitting me into your very busy life. 

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I had so much fun with you. You never ever let me down. I told you everything. You understood the challenge of working full time and having a chronic illness. You always cheered me on, as I did you. You are the best friend I’ve ever had. 

One night, while having a big night in at your place, crafting – making brooches – you introduced me to this new little app called Instagram. I was hooked. You later told me never to ask a stranger to take an outfit photo – I could always trust you to be a good Instagram wife. I cherish all of our photos together, all the lunches and shopping trips – especially that last op-shop visit we had when you bought that spectacular green dress that you wore on your final day at work. It was perfect for you. I so loved wearing bright clothes with you. 

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Instagram is where your community is at. Online friends are real friends. There you shared snippets of your incredible life – holidays, your fabulous dressmaking, your gorgeous nephews, and #BaconPalooza. You loved Instagram so much – you told me Instagram was your way of journaling your life through the good and the bad.

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Our friend Jason said you’re the ultimate Instagram influencer – he’s right. You’re a brilliant community builder, and used social media for so much good. From sew-alongs on your blog, to Donate Life awareness and fundraising, to quilt swaps, and quietly supporting people preparing for and post transplant. Towards the end of your life you shared what it was like to live with terminal cancer.

When we first got talking online in 2010, you told me that you admired how open I was about my illness, that you feared you’d be treated differently if you were open about yours. “I think I may have learned a very good lesson from you today Carly!”, you said. And then you became so open about being chronically ill on social media. You taught us all so very much, and your social media pages and blog are great resources for other chronically ill and disabled people, and the medical profession. I am honoured that I played a little part in shaping your online patient advocacy. 

Even now you’re not here, you’ve got a hashtag dedicated to you – #ColourForCam – created by Nicole James who has asked people to keep using it when they take photos of things they make, or when they see beautiful things that you’d like. 

Beautiful Camille. Curlypops. I can’t imagine a world without you. There’s been no way to prepare for you not being here. After your lung transplant, I posted a picture of you and me on Facebook, and captioned it “thanks to your generous donor and their family for giving us many, many more years of friendship.” I just wish we, that everyone here today and watching on the live stream, had more years with you. 

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But you’re still here with us. In the rainbows, the flowers, the rolls of fabric and all the brightly coloured pretty dresses, in the dog tail wags and the wafts of frying bacon. You’re in the colour, the laughter and the joy.  You’re in courage and bravery. You’re in the beautiful friendships that you created and brought together. You’re in your incredibly well mannered nephews. You’re in the strength of patient advocacy. You taught us all to notice the small things and live life to the fullest. Thank you for the beautiful friendship, for all the memories. I love you forever.

Ichthyosis advocacy fatigue

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I am tired of the fight.

I’m tired of being regarded as an oncall helpline, expected to educate people all the time.

I’m tired of feeling alone.

I’m tired of being seen as difficult because I speak out about the abuse that happens to people with Ichthyosis.

I’m tired of the very organisation who is supposed to advocate for people with ichthyosis not doing more to advocate against discrimination, and supporting bullies (and me being expected to be quiet about this).

I’m tired of the expectation of having the educate and be nice when discrimination and staring and rude comments happen, so we don’t put people off from interacting with us in the future.

I’m tired of being made to feel I’m not doing enough – like with that journalist with ichthyosis guilting me for saying no to an interview the other day.

I’m tired of being unfriended and blocked by parents when I reach out to offer advice about media and oversharing – even when I’ve lodged complaints about how their kids are misrepresented in the media.

I am tired of poor media representation of ichthyosis.

I’m tired of seeing photos and videos of babies and children with Ichthyosis at their most vulnerable – in pain and in the bath.

I am tired of “ichthyosis moms” seeking fame through going viral. I hope their children never read the nasty things said about them by social media commenters.

I am tired of children with ichthyosis not having the choice to tell their stories on their own terms (if they want to at all), all in the name of awareness raising.

I’m tired of people with Ichthyosis being asked to leave planes, nail salons, restaurants, taxis and stores.

I’m tired that we have to prove we are fit to travel and not contagious, expected to carry documentation like we are illegal citizens.

I am tired of being tagged in every story on social media about cannabis oil being a miracle “cure”for ichthyosis.

I’m tired that we do all the heavy lifting – that we endure discrimination on top of discrimination when we speak out about the discrimination we endure. What a tedious cycle.

We keep raising awareness but things don’t improve.

I’m tired.

Love and solidarity to everyone who is feeling tired too.

I wrote a book on life with ichthyosis. Details over here.

On being called an inspiration

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While I’ve been in the media talking about Say Hello, lots of people have called me “an inspiration”, “inspiring” or “inspirational”. I know you mean it as a compliment, but it’s a tricky thing for me and other disabled people to be seen as inspiring.

It can be really hard to refuse such a compliment so I want to explain my complex feelings about inspiration in writing (I have also devoted a whole chapter to it in Say Hello).

Stella Young coined the phrase inspiration porn – objectifying disabled people for the benefit of non disabled people. You should watch or read her Ted Talk .
Lots of others have written about inspiration porn, too. Google it.

Disabled people are often called inspirational because expectations of us are so low. When we do something ordinary, we are seen to be conquering our disability.

I am not an inspiration for living with ichthyosis, or for facing the world when I have a visibly different appearance, or for getting on with life. I am not an inspiration for working, for being lazy and watching Netflix when I should be cleaning the house, or for being able to cook lasagne from scratch. I am not an inspiration when I catch public transport or when I am standing in the queue at the supermarket.

I don’t want to be an inspiration just for existing, or to make non disabled people feel better about their own lives. (“If she can go out of the house looking like that, then what am I complaining about?”)

Writing a memoir is brave and perhaps inspiring due to the act of writing and sharing so much. But I am not inspiring for being me.

I do want to inspire other disabled people and people with ichthyosis and severe skin conditions to feel confident about their appearance, tell their own stories on their own terms and not feel the need to make others comfortable through apologising for their bodies and appearances or changing to fit in. I want to make space for other voices and mentor people where I can.

And I do want to inspire all people to do better in eliminating ableism and discrimination.

I’ve written a little about not wanting to be an inspiration in Say Hello (chapter 2). I really hope that helps you understand my feelings a little more

I can’t tell you how to interpret my words or work, but I can tell you my wishes about how I’d like to be seen.

Thank you.

For more information on my book Say Hello – where you can buy it, tour dates and international order details, click here.

Say Hello Melbourne book launch – hurrah!

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On Thursday, 24 January, my first book, a memoir called Say Hello was launched! My book is in the world. It’s on shelves (as a paperback and ebook) on Tuesday 29 January. It will be in all good book stores, department stores and on ereaders. You can currently pre-order it from Booktopia and Apple Books.

I pre-signed a heap of books beforehand – though I was lagging with the combination of just developing my author signature and the 43 degree heat. Still, I got through so many so quickly, and I think I’ve found my calling. Signing my name on things.

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[image error]Kevin Mitchell and I on stage





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The very lovely Kevin Mitchell – you might know him from Jebediah and Bob Evans – chatted to me about Say Hello and it was so much fun. He was smart and sensitive and really funny. You can watch the launch here.

Thanks to Catherine Milne (pictured below), Nicola Robinson, Lara Wallace and Hazel Lam from HarperCollins, Jacinta Di Mase, Danielle Binks and Natasha Solomun from from Jacinta Di Mase Management, Writers Victoria, The Wheeler Centre, Lynn Gordon and Erin Gook from Auslan Stage Left, my parents, Adam and my friends for all of your support. And thank you to everyone – all 200 of you! – for coming out in the very hot weather to hear me speak and buy my book. I am so appreciative. It was fun having selfies with you, and I can’t wait to do it around the country.

[image error]Catherine Milne and I



[image error]Danielle and I, in front of the huge pile of books.



[image error]My parents and I. They’re the best.



[image error]Camille and I – love our matchy outfits

I wrote a book. I am proud, tired, happy and a little bit scared that it’s out there in the world. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever worked on. I wrote a book!

You can find out everything about Say Hello, including tour dates, audiobook recording and international orders on the Say Hello page. I really hope you enjoy it.

Pictures by Danielle Binks -apart from the one with her and I, which was taken by a Writers Victoria volunteer.

Growing Up Disabled in Australia anthology

I am so excited to announce this project I’ve been working on with Black Inc.. I am editing the Growing Up Disabled in Australia anthology.

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You can read (and listen to me read) the submission guidelines here.

Black Inc. is pleased to announce a new anthology, Growing Up Disabled in Australia, to be published in April 2020.

The anthology will be edited by blogger and appear- ance activist Carly Findlay, author of the forthcoming memoir Say Hello. Carly has been widely published, including in The Guardian, The Age, The Sydney Morning Herald, Daily Life, Mamamia and Frankie.

Growing Up Disabled in Australia will be aimed at general readers and high-school students,

and submissions will be accepted on the basis of the social model of disability. Black Inc. is seeking submissions that deal with any aspect of growing up disabled, deaf, Deaf or chronically ill. Submissions can be in any manner, tone or style, but should not be academic or scholarly. Pieces should be written in first-person and be honest accounts of lived experience – positive, negative or anything in between.

Carly says:

‘I want young disabled people to read this anthology and know what’s possible for them,

to see that other disabled people have had similar experiences, and to feel the impact of visibility and positive representation. While I have had a lifelong chronic illness, I first identified as chronically ill and disabled when I heard other chronically ill and disabled people’s stories. We need diverse voices and we need diverse books.

It’s very important that #OwnVoices are centred – particularly because disabled voices are so often silenced, erased or spoken over.

One in five Australians are disabled. And disability presents itself in many ways. Yet dis- abled people are still underrepresented in media and literature. There is a diverse experience of disability – disabled people come to acceptance and pride at different times, and some not at all. All experiences are valid.’

Publisher Kirstie Innes-Will says she was delighted that Carly approached Black Inc. with the idea.

‘Part of the strength of the Growing Up series is the way it has evolved organically, championed by editors from different communities. The way these books have been embraced by readers shows how much representation matters. Growing Up Disabled will be an invaluable contribution to that tradition.’

A donation from proceeds will be given to Children and Young People with Disability Australia.

Submissions should be between 1000 and 4000 words and will be accepted until 5.00 pm, Friday, 31 May 2019.

Pictured is me signing the contract! (My second book deal in two years!) I’ve known about this for months and it’s been hard to keep such an exciting  secret! I know this book will benefit so many writers and readers. I can’t wait to read the submissions. 

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Again, you can read (and listen to me read) the submission guidelines here

If you have further questions about submission process, enquiries should be addressed to Kirstie Innes-Will: kirstie@blackincbooks.com

Media enquiries:

Kate Nash kate@blackincbooks.com, 0406 997 647

 

The creation of the Say Hello book cover

I’m so excited to unveil the cover of Say Hello – my memoir – today! It’s been a long time coming. I’ve just handed in my fourth draft, so this seems like a nice reward. Writing a book is a loooong process. It is one reason I haven’t been able to blog a lot.

The book is a memoir – with anecdotes from my life to date, as well as thoughts and observations on ableism, media representation and beauty privilege. There’s advice to readers with and without ichthyosis, facial difference and disability. The book is called Say Hello because that’s what I want people to do, instead of ignoring me, looking shocked or scared, or making a rude comment about my face.

Ta-dah! Here it is. The cover of Say Hello.

Say Hello will be in stores in late January 2019. I haven’t finished writing it yet! I just submitted the fourth draft – that’s 84,192 words(!), and I’m about to respond to a few small queries from my editor, Nicola. The editing process has been quite something (long, tiring, emotional are a few words that come to mind) but Nicola has been so wonderful.

But you can pre-order it online from today. It will be mailed to you and appear in your e-readers around 21 January.

You can preorder Say Hello from Booktopia (paperback) and Apple Books (ebook). (These are affiliate links – I will receive a small amount from each sale.)

International sales and audiobooks

Many people have asked me about an international release. At this stage, Say Hello just has an Australian and New Zealand release. I will talk with my agent and publisher about an international release – this depends on lots of factors including sales within Australia. But it’s great there is interest already!

International friends can order Say Hello at Dymocks and Boomerang Books, but there are some hefty postage fees. Again, if you pre-order these now, they’ll be posted in January 2019. There are no ebook options for international pre-order yet.

I also plan to record an audio book, though this might be sometime down the track.

I’ll keep you updated on the overseas and audiobook releases. Thanks for your patience.

My Mum, my biggest fan

My Mum was down for the Melbourne Writers Festival and Melbourne Fashion Week in August and September, and I showed her the cover on the phone. Danielle, my wonderful agent, had the idea to capture Mum’s reaction to the cover, and I am so glad she did. Look at her beautiful face! Mum is featured in the book a lot, and my editor has been leaving cute “I love your Mum!” comments in her notes. She thinks Mum will have a big fanclub, come release.

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A big thanks also to Jacinta DiMase and Danielle Binks at Jacinta DiMase Management – the best agents a woman could have. They have been so supportive and full of ideas.

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The cover concept 

The Say Hello cover has been quite collaborative. I know that the author often doesn’t get a stake in how their book cover looks, but I’m pleased to say that I had lots of input into mine.

I wanted my face to be on the cover, because I’m an appearance activist, and I believe that representation matters. I think it would be silly if my face was absent from the cover. And I want others with ichthyosis and facial differences to see me on the cover of a book, to know what’s possible for them, and to hopefully give them confidence to show their face – to a partner, in public and even on a book cover.

I also wanted to be seen as approachable. I wanted to be smiling. I want the cover to invite people to say hello. Of course.

I wanted lots of colour – because I love colour.

The text needed to be fun yet easy to read.

And I wanted to be wearing a fabulous dress. I have a few, so it wasn’t hard!

The idea started with Catherine Milne – my publisher at HarperCollins – finding this photo online. It was taken by Camille, six years ago. I love this photo – this is a fave dress of mine, and I look happy and my legs are great!

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The design studio put this cover together.

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I loved the purple font. It was very me. And Jason helped with the tagline – he suggested ‘fangirl’ instead of ‘hero’. There’s a whole chapter on fangirling – I’m sure it will relaunch Darren Hayes’ career

Vicarious trauma – I am you, and you will be me. My performance for the Melbourne Writers Festival

I finished writing this today, and performed it on stage at the Melbourne Writers Festival today. Thank you for having me MWF, it’s always a pleasure.

The words have been coming for a while. I’m constantly horrified at the level of oversharing and ableism that I see among some parents. All of these things that I’ve written about, they’ve happened. They’re actual interactions I’ve had recently.

I teared up, cried just a little when I read it this afternoon. My wonderful friend and colleague sitting next to me hugged me afterward, and my publisher said some lovely words too. 

I want to shoutout to the amazing parent friends I do have in the ichthyosis community, and to my incredible parents too.

Content note for ableism. If you need to, contact Lifeline on 131114, Kids Helpline on 1800 55 1800 or a support service in your country. 

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Image: woman with red face and short dark curly hair sitting on a dark stage. She’s holding an iPad and speaking. She’s wearing a green floral dress and boots. One foot is on top of the other. Pic by Jess Healy Walton.

There is vicarious trauma in reading about how some people raise awareness about and view ichthyosis in mainstream and social media. It compounds when I read things like what I’m about to tell you on top of living with the condition. I swing between anger and exasperation and pain.

Dear little baby,

I found you because your video has gone viral

You were in the bath.

Covered by a face washer.

But your skin was tight and painful and was being sloughed.

And your mother was telling tens of thousands of strangers on the internet how hard it is to care for you, and inviting questions about this intimate process to be asked.

All in the name of awareness raising.

The video had been shared a horrifying amount of times,

Facebook blurred out the video, your precious face, labeling it graphic content.

I wrote to your mother, telling her I too have ichthyosis,

And maybe there’s some aspects of your life that could be kept private.

She blocked me.

You have a whole community of people who know what it’s like to live with ichthyosis.

The 30,000 people have come to gawk and pray and ask how you can be healed and tell you that you look like an alien will never be as valuable as the community of adults living with ichthyosis.

I was you.

And you will be me.

Dear little baby

Someone sent me an article about you.

You were smiling

Gummy, happy.

Above your little face was a content warning from the news outlet.

This article contains graphic images.

I complained to the news outlet and the Australian press council.

And your mother deleted me from Facebook.

I was you.

And you will be me.

Dear little baby

Your mother was complaining how tiresome it is to take care of your skin in an online support group.

That’s how I came to find you.

Reading that post was not only upsetting for your daughter but for everyone with ichthyosis in that group.

Friends of mine were in tears.

Many of us feel we are burdens, feel apologetic about our skin.

So to see a mother complain about how tired they are of caring for their child’s skin – that’s tough.

What happens when you are old enough to join that so called ichthyosis support group and see what your mother said about you?

I was you.

And you will be me.

Dear little girl

I saw you again when dozens of people tagged me on Instagram.

You were adorable on a video, singing and laughing.

But your image was used to sell tickets to a Real Housewife’s show.

And the gawkers and ridiculers were in force

They said you were an inspiration and putting others lives into perspective.

You were simply being yourself.

When I intervened, politely telling off the ridiculers, the Real Housewife’s people told me to keep it nice,

As though I had no right to defend someone with Ichthyosis.

What would I know?

I was you.

And you will be me.

Dear young adult,

Your mum told me your life is awful, that it’s ruined, and that she has no hope for you.

I told her I was you once, and listed all of the amazing things other adults with ichthyosis are working on.

Still, she had no hope. It will never get better, she told me.

Your mum didn’t understand why I was so upset.

I called my mum and cried.

That I am here, leading an ordinary and successful life, even with the pain and social difficulties of Ichthyosis, means it does get better.

Your mum couldn’t see this at all.

I was that baby.

I was that little girl.

I am that adult.

And I’m so very thankful my Mum and Dad always believed in me and let me choose when and how I tell my story.

Dear parent,

Respect and self belief starts at home. You are your child’s biggest advocate.

If you don’t respect your child enough not to keep some things private from the media,

Or if you talk about them with disgust or saying they’re a burden,

Then how will your child ever believe in themselves?

Talking about how burdensome your child is, is harmful to everyone.

When you say those things about your child, you’re saying them to all of us.

It takes years to shake the shame.

Stop throwing us all under the bus with your ableism and need to overshare.

Stop damaging the hard work myself and so many others have done to change the perceptions of ichthyosis.

If the only exposure people have to ichthyosis is these articles with content warnings, and intimate moments shared on social media, of course fear and pity will be perpetuated – in homes, in playgrounds, in workplaces, in the streets.

Ableism starts with you. And it can stop with you, too.

If you’re taking part in exploitative media, you’re part of the problem.

Dear little ones with ichthyosis,

I’m sorry your story has been shared this way,

Without your permission.

You don’t exist for clickbait.

When you are old enough to google your name, and ichthyosis, I hope you will never see the way you were spoken about in the media.

Or you will never be able to shake that shame.

And nor will the rest of us.

I was you, I am you. I love you.

You are loved, you are worthy.

You are not a burden and you are not alone.

Reach out to us when you’re ready.

Our faces don’t need content warnings.

We don’t need dehumanising labels like “snakeskin woman” or “mermaid baby” or “plastic boy”.

We need love, encouragement, resilience, privacy, the ability to choose how and when our story is told. We need pride in ourselves and pride from others.

We need the whole community behind us,

United in a mission for better representation.

I don’t want to see another article about ichthyosis unless I’ve written it.

I’m making my own media so I can change the world for you.

I hope you’ll never endure this vicarious trauma.

I was you.

And you will be me.

If this post has helped you or made you think, or if you will use it in your workplace or classroom, you can buy me a drink. Thanks. 

Sixteen + books on disability by disabled writers.

Here are some books on disability – by disabled writers – that I have bought and you might like.  I have not read them all, but I plan to read a few this weekend when I’m in a hotel on enforced rest – bliss!

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Many are memoir but some are poetry and others are fiction. It’s so important to read within our community!

Note – some writers might identify as chronically ill, living with a facial difference or Deaf, rather than disabled.

I am proud to call many of the writers here my friends. Happy reading!

Notes on the Flesh – Shahd Ashammari

In sickness and in health Love, Disability, and a Quest to Understand the Perils and Pleasures of Inter-abled Romance – Ben Mattlin

Sonata: a memoir of pain and the piano – Andrea Avery

The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating – Elisabeth Tova Bailey

Stairs and Whispers – edited by Khairani Barokka, Sandra Alland and Daniel Sluman.

Autobiography of a Face – Lucy Grealy

Music Our Bodies Can’t Hold – Andy Jackson

Ugly – Robert Hoge

Chronic Babe 101 – Jenni Grover

Sick – Porochista Khakpour

Ride High Pineapple – Jenny Woolsey

Introducing Teddy – Jessica Walton  (not about disability)

Southerly Journal – Disability edition

Welcome to Biscuitland – Jess Thom

Jeanette Purkis has lots of books

El Deafo – CeCe Bell

Shaping the Fractured Self – Heather Taylor Johnson

(My book –Say Hello – is out early next year through Harper Collins. It is on Good Reads.)

Here’s some kids books on facial difference and ichthyosis.

Robyn Hunt compiled an excellent children’s and YA book list too. 

Got any other books on disability by disabled writers that you’d recommend? Tell me on my Facebook page.

Sign up to my newsletter – I promise I’ll write another soon!

Chat with Dylan Alcott on media and brand representation for ANZ

[image error]Image: two people smiling at the camera.. One is male and has light brown hair and a beard. The other is female and has a red face and short curly dark hair.

 

I had a little chat with Dylan Alcott about representation for ANZ Australia’s Bluenofes.

“If you’re not seeing us, you’re not looking hard enough.” – I said.

Media and brand representation is something I feel strongly about – I really want to see more disabled people feature, so wider society isn’t so surprised to see us on TV or in a catalogue.

Catia Malaquaias from Starting With Julius and Graeme Innes at Attitude Foundation also spoke on this podcast.

Listen or read the transcript here.

Dylan and I have chatted on social media a lot this past year, and fangirled each other in the ABC foyer. So I was chuffed that we’ve formed an IRL friendship too. He’s delightful!

If you’re interested in this topic, I’ll be talking more about it at ACMI with Kate Hood, Michelle Law and Alistair Baldwin on 12 June. Get your tickets here. 

What’s with the image descriptions on my social media posts?

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Do you have a social media account? Then this blog post is for you!

What’s with the image descriptions on my socials?

You might have noticed I’ve recently made a big effort to do image descriptions on my photos on social media. Wait! Are you even following me on social media?!

Pause…

Instagram

Facebook

Twitter

LinkedIn

…Recommence!

I describe what the photo looks like in each post.

Why?

They’re for people who can’t see the image – they might use a screen reader (reads out text to them) or just want the image described.

I used to do this in my old comms job at a disability NFP, but wasn’t doing it on my own social media. I realised that my audience probably needs image descriptions and I want to be a good ally to people with different accessibility needs. Plus, I talk about access in my work so I really do need to walk the talk. So I have really been trying. Usually I’m straight forward but sometimes I’m cheeky – like here with Kerri Sackville when I talked about our boobs.

And image descriptions improve accessibility and SEO – if you’re into that . How great that image descriptions improves your reach AND provides inclusivity and accessibility to disabled people? Savvy AND altruistic!

it doesn’t cost any money to write image descriptions – only a little time – and once you get good at them, it will be quick sticks.

Plus, writing them makes you focus on what’s happening in the image.

The good news?

You don’t even need to be disabled to provide them! Just by writing them on your social media posts and web content, you’re making a whole new audience feel welcome at your space of the Internet.

What do image descriptions look like?

They are a short description  in the body of text that accompanies an Image on social media. You might want to put the image description in the first comment – and state that in the body of the text. I usually preface the description with ‘Image:’.

Here is an example of an image description on one of my Instagram posts.

I posted this photo.

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The text underneath the photo was:

“One of my usual poses. Laughing. Thanks for capturing this @prod.haus2. My dress is @witcheryfashion.