I Said I Respected Her Privacy… Then Asked for a Photo
3 min read
An unexpected encounter with Adjoa Andoh becomes a moment of quiet tension between respect and desire, as the instinct to honour her privacy clashes with the pull to acknowledge her presence and ask for a photo; her polite but measured yes leaves behind a memory that feels both meaningful and slightly unsettled, revealing how easily personal principles can bend in real time – and how it’s possible to cherish a moment while still recognising that a line was, however gently, crossed.
I rounded the corner and saw Adjoa Andoh outside the station! She was just finishing a phone call. Telling someone she loved them. And I almost walked past.
Almost.
Because there’s a version of me – the well-behaved, socially appropriate version – that knows you don’t interrupt people in moments like that. That knows public figures are still people. That knows “respect their privacy” isn’t just something you say, it’s something you do.
But there’s another version of me that clocked her instantly. Not just as Adjoa Andoh. As Lady Danbury. As presence. As power. As that Black woman. And that version of me… didn’t want to miss it.
So, I approached her.
And I said – and I truly meant this (which is the worst part) –
“I’m really sorry, I respect your privacy, but can I just get a quick photo?”
Which is, when you actually hear it back, a ridiculous sentence. I respect your privacy…but not enough to leave you alone. I know this is a private moment…but I’m going to insert myself into it anyway.
And still – she said yes.
A moment with Adjoa Andoh
Reluctantly. Politely. With the kind of grace that comes from being used to this. And that’s the bit that’s stayed with me. Because it wasn’t warm, expansive, delighted-to-be-seen energy. It was contained. Measured. Slightly interrupted. And I knew that. I knew I was asking for something I didn’t have a right to.
But I asked anyway.
And I’ve been thinking about that tension since. Because what does “respect” actually mean in a moment like that?
Is it:
Leaving her alone completely
Asking and accepting whatever comes back
Because she could have said no. And I would have respected that.
But she didn’t.
And so now I have this photo – a moment that feels both meaningful and slightly…taken.
Not stolen. But not entirely clean either. And I think that’s the part we don’t talk about. The in-between. The moments where:
You’re aware
You’re considerate
You’re trying to do the right thing
And still… you cross the line a little. Not aggressively. Not maliciously. Just…humanly. Because sometimes the moment feels bigger than the rule. Because sometimes you don’t want to be the person who says, “I could have… but I didn’t.” Because sometimes – if we’re honest – respect has a limit when it collides with desire.
And maybe that’s uncomfortable to admit.
That we’re not always as principled as we think we are. That we negotiate our values in real time. That we soften them, just enough, to allow ourselves the thing we want.
But I don’t regret it. I love this photo. I treasure this moment – because she said yes. I stumbled upon greatness and I didn’t just point and stare or walk on by. And yet I’ll never feel entirely clean about it either…
Both of those things are true at the same time.
