I’ve been dealing with this for years. Ever since Rihanna blew up, people stop me on the street, in restaurants, even at the gas station. “Oh my God, are you Rihanna?” “Can I get a picture?” “Say something in a Bajan accent!”
Every time, I just laugh it off. “Nah, I just look like her,” I’d say. Some people get disappointed, others don’t believe me. But I never pretended—I never played along.
Until her.
I was at the mall, just grabbing a coffee, when I noticed a little girl staring at me. Big eyes, frozen in place, clutching a pink shopping bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
Her mom leaned down and whispered something, and suddenly, the girl’s hands flew to her mouth. She looked like she was about to cry.
I turned, thinking maybe she had seen someone else. But no—her eyes were locked on me.
I braced myself for the usual question. But instead, she took a tiny step forward and whispered, “I love you so much.”
My heart dropped.
She wasn’t just excited. She looked like this was the best day of her life. Her mom was already digging through her purse, probably looking for a pen.
I hesitated. I could’ve told her the truth, could’ve given her the usual “I’m not who you think I am” speech. But something about the way her hands trembled, the pure joy on her face… I just couldn’t do it.
So I bent down, smiled, and said, “Aww, what’s your name, sweetheart?”
Her face lit up as she told me. “I’m Aviana,” she said softly.
I looked at her, hesitated for half a second… but then I reached out and gave her a gentle hug. Her arms wrapped around my waist, and I could feel her trembling with excitement. Her mom stood there with the biggest grin, tears pooling in her eyes like she’d just witnessed the moment of a lifetime.
“Aviana,” I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady, “it’s wonderful to meet you.”
She let out a soft gasp, like she couldn’t believe this was really happening. “I love your songs,” she whispered, “and you’re so pretty in person.”
I forced a smile, hoping I looked comforting, hoping I seemed real and genuine in a way that would do Rihanna justice. I wasn’t sure what else to say—do I try and mimic Rihanna’s accent? Do I pretend to be in a hurry? But Aviana was just beaming at me, so I gently took the pink shopping bag from her trembling hands.
“What do you have in here?” I asked, just to keep the conversation rolling and distract myself from the guilt creeping in.
She looked at me with pure delight. “I bought some new hair clips so I can look like you,” she said, her voice shaking with excitement.
I rummaged around the top of the bag, found a sparkly purple hair clip shaped like a flower, and held it up. “I love this one,” I said, truly meaning it. There was something sweet and genuine about her taste—bright colors, a little sparkly, very cheerful. She giggled, and I felt a pang of warmth in my chest, a mix of empathy and protectiveness.
Her mom—who introduced herself as Naya—handed me a small notebook and a pen. She gave me this hopeful look that said, “Could you please write something special?”
I’d never faked an autograph as Rihanna in my life. But I wanted Aviana to have her moment. I took the pen, hovered it over the page, and paused. What on earth was Rihanna’s autograph supposed to look like? I’d seen it online once, or maybe on an album cover, but I definitely couldn’t replicate it off the top of my head.
I decided it didn’t matter. Aviana was too young to even notice the difference. So I scribbled “With love, Rihanna,” and drew a small heart next to it.
I tore out the page and handed it to Aviana. She held it to her chest like it was pure gold. Her eyes shone with tears, and for a moment, I saw this little spark of confidence in her—like she’d just received a magical blessing from her idol. It reminded me that sometimes, illusions can be kind. Even if they aren’t strictly honest, sometimes they bring a bit of warmth that people really need.
“Thank you,” Aviana whispered, her eyes filling with happy tears.
I squeezed her hand. “You’re welcome,” I replied, my voice trembling a little. “You keep being amazing, okay?”
She nodded vigorously. And then it happened—a small crowd that was passing by turned to stare. One woman elbowed her friend and said, “Is that Rihanna?” Another person pulled out a phone. Suddenly, a knot of panic flared in my stomach.
I’m not Rihanna. This was supposed to be a small, sweet moment between me and Aviana. But the mall was the worst place to pretend to be a global superstar. Any second, people would pull out their phones, start filming, ask me to sing, ask me about Fenty Beauty or new music or some other detail I knew next to nothing about.
I needed a graceful exit. So I gave Aviana a soft pat on her shoulder and said, “Take care of yourself, sweetheart. I have to go now, okay?”
She looked a little sad but still overjoyed that she got to meet her hero. She gave me one last hug, whispered, “I’ll never forget this,” and scurried back to her mom.
Naya mouthed “thank you” at me, tears in her eyes, and I realized she was probably as touched as Aviana. Then, mother and daughter headed on their way, Aviana clutching her notebook and pink shopping bag like precious treasures.
I spun around and walked in the opposite direction, ducking behind a pillar so the rest of the onlookers wouldn’t corner me. My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t tell if it was from relief or excitement.
I found the nearest exit, stepping out into the crisp daylight. A cool breeze brushed against my cheeks, which were still warm from the intensity of what had just happened. I glanced back through the glass doors of the mall, half-expecting Aviana and Naya to be chasing after me, or for a huge crowd to burst through looking for Rihanna. But no one came.
Outside, I breathed in deeply, a mix of guilt and wonder swirling inside me. I’m not usually one to lie. But I also couldn’t bear the thought of crushing that little girl’s dream, especially when she looked so genuinely thrilled. I tried to shake off the sense of dissonance in my chest.
I pulled my phone from my pocket, intending to text my best friend—whose name is Brenna—and tell her what happened. Brenna is the only person who truly gets my complicated relationship with this Rihanna look-alike situation. We’d been friends since high school, long before Rihanna was on everyone’s playlists, and she’d always told me, “Girl, you do look a bit like her, but it’s your personality that sets you apart.”
I typed out a quick message: “You won’t believe this. Just pretended to be Rihanna for the first time. A little girl thought I was the real deal—couldn’t tell her no. Guilt city, but also…it felt kinda good to see her happy.”
Before I could hit send, I felt a presence behind me. I turned around to see a security guard stepping out of the mall’s sliding doors. My stomach tightened, but to my relief, he gave me a gentle smile. He looked like he was about to apologize for something.
“Excuse me,” he said, sounding a bit cautious. “I don’t mean to intrude, but my colleague told me you might be Rihanna.” He looked at me sheepishly. “My wife is a huge fan. She’s actually pregnant right now, and her birthday’s next week.”
Oh boy. Here we go again. I could sense his sincerity—he wasn’t starstruck in the same way Aviana had been. It was more like he wanted to do something special for his family. And deep down, I guess I’m a sucker for a heartfelt plea. I shot him a kind smile.
“I’m really sorry,” I began, telling myself I had to draw the line now. But then I saw the hope in his eyes. He must have run out here purely on that slim chance that he could get a heartfelt message for his wife.
I cleared my throat. “I’m so flattered you thought that,” I said carefully, “but I’m not actually Rihanna. I just happen to look like her.” I tried to soften the blow by giving him a sympathetic grin.
To my surprise, he just laughed in relief. “You know, I had a feeling you might not be. It’d be too random for Rihanna to just be chilling at the mall coffee shop.” He scratched his head sheepishly. “But I had to try. My wife is… well, I’d do anything to see her smile.”
For a second, I thought about Aviana. I thought about how just a small moment of kindness had made such a big difference to that little girl. Maybe I couldn’t sign a real Rihanna autograph for this security guard’s wife, but I could do something thoughtful.
“What’s your wife’s name?” I asked.
“Kasira,” he replied. “She loves that ‘Diamonds’ song.”
I took out a small notebook from my own purse. “Let me write her a nice note,” I offered. “You can give it to her as a fun surprise. Tell her you met Rihanna’s look-alike, and she wrote this just for her.”
He laughed, obviously touched by my offer. “That would be amazing. She’ll get a kick out of it, I know. Thank you.”
I scribbled a short message: “Hi Kasira, sending all my love and wishing you the best birthday ever. You’re shining bright like a diamond—just like Rihanna’s song! Hugs, from someone who looks a whole lot like her.”
I signed it with a flourish (not Rihanna’s name this time!) and handed it to him. He read it quickly, grinning from ear to ear.
“You have no idea how happy this will make her,” he said, slipping the note into his jacket pocket. “Thank you so much for taking the time. And sorry if this was awkward.”
“Nah,” I replied, waving it off. “It’s actually kind of nice to bring people a bit of joy, even by accident.”
He nodded. “You have a great day, and I hope people stop hassling you,” he joked lightly. Then he turned and headed back inside, probably eager to show his colleagues the note and figure out exactly how to surprise Kasira.
I let out a long breath, feeling an odd mix of relief and warmth. It was strange how, in the span of just a few minutes, I’d gone from evading attention to handing out heartfelt notes. I think part of me wanted to run home and hide, but another part was deeply moved by how a small resemblance could create these unique opportunities to make people smile.
I walked through the parking lot and found my car, still clutching the coffee I had barely sipped. As I slid into the driver’s seat, I couldn’t help but reflect on how a casual trip to the mall had turned into this mini-adventure of mistaken identity, compassion, and quick thinking.
That evening, I got a text from Brenna after I told her the whole story: “You did the right thing. Aviana will cherish that memory forever.”
I looked at the message and realized that, even though I had felt guilty about deceiving Aviana, at least I gave her a moment of happiness. Maybe that was better than being brutally honest, especially given how deeply she believed in that moment. The next time I get approached, I probably won’t pretend to be Rihanna again—because let’s face it, I’m not her, and sustaining that illusion can get out of control. But for Aviana, it felt like the right choice at the right time.
To my surprise, a few days later, I got a random direct message on social media from Naya. She must have found me through a mutual acquaintance or recognized me from my profile picture (which honestly looks a lot like Rihanna at a certain angle). She wrote:
“Hi, I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at the mall a few days ago. I’m Aviana’s mom. I just wanted to say thank you again for what you did. Aviana has been drawing pictures of you (or, well, Rihanna) every day since. She told me it was the best day of her life. I know you’re not actually Rihanna, but the happiness you brought her is real, and I’ll never forget it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Her message made me tear up. The reality was, by going along with Aviana’s excitement, I hadn’t just made Aviana’s day; I’d also given her mom a precious memory to share with her daughter. Sometimes, those memories are priceless.
A few weeks later, I was back at the same mall, trying to get some birthday gifts for my cousin. I kept my head down, a little wary of the crowd, hoping no one would confuse me for Rihanna again. But as I was waiting in line at a clothing store, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.
It was an older woman, eyes bright with curiosity, and for a second, my heart lurched. “Excuse me,” she said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you—?”
“Not Rihanna,” I interrupted, kindly but firmly. “But I get that a lot.”
She laughed, apologizing for bothering me, and we ended up chatting about celebrity look-alikes for a moment. It was a light, pleasant exchange, and I left the store smiling. It didn’t feel so awkward now. In fact, I felt a bit more at peace with this random gift—or curse—of resembling a superstar.
At home that evening, I caught myself humming one of Rihanna’s songs while cooking dinner. It made me smile, because now I felt a sense of gratitude. Even though the constant comparisons could get annoying, I realized there was a hidden upside: I could share unexpected bursts of joy with the people who approached me. And in Aviana’s case, that burst of joy might have been the highlight of her year.
So what’s the life lesson here? Sometimes, a small fib or a tiny performance of kindness can bring someone more hope than the cold, hard truth. I’m not saying we should all go around lying—I value honesty as much as anyone. But there are moments in life where the bigger kindness is in nurturing someone’s dream, even for just a minute. The world can be pretty tough; we all know that. A child’s belief in something wonderful is fragile, and if we can protect it—if we can give it space to shine just a little bit longer—it’s worth it.
I also learned that opportunities for kindness appear in the most unexpected ways. Whether it’s a little girl believing you’re her idol, or a security guard wanting something special for his pregnant wife, or a casual chat with a stranger who does a double-take when they see your face—every moment is a chance to touch someone’s life for the better. You never know how long they’ve been waiting to smile, or how much they need a bright spot in an otherwise difficult day.
At the end of the day, I’m not Rihanna, and I never will be. But for a moment in that mall, to one little girl named Aviana, I was. And that felt pretty amazing.
If this story touched your heart, please give it a like and share it with someone who could use a little bit of hope today. You never know—maybe it’ll inspire them to spread kindness the next time someone mistakes them for a star (or just needs a reassuring smile). After all, life’s too short not to sprinkle a little magic around whenever we can.
