From the first time Thylane Blondeau’s gray eyes met a camera, adults decided who she was supposed to be.
She learned to smile on cue, to absorb criticism meant for grown women, to carry the weight of a gaze that never looked away.
Praise and outrage circled her like vultures, arguing about innocence while rarely considering the child at the center. In time, she began to reclaim what had always been hers:
