Her post has won support and attracted criticism, dividing social media users on what is a emotionally charged subject.
Ms Farhan, who works for the non-profit group Art Saves Lives International, defended her stance with further posts on Facebook:
"If you took what I said via the status of mine which went viral yesterday, as a criticism, then you missed my point completely. I was speaking for myself about my views and my actions regarding my life. I am sad that certain 'friends' have been so shady and said such hurtful things about how I live my life. Please show people respect and speak for yourself not others!! I have no issue with those using the flag as their profile picture, I just explained why I as a FRENCH person did not. ?#?weareone? ?#?peace?."
She added: "One other thought I have on my viral status, my only criticism was of Facebook and our world leaders; by giving only one option of changing your profile to only one countries flag which is suffering when there are so many others which are also suffering around the world is wrong! World leaders sharing condolences with only one country is wrong! This was my point!!"
Her post chimed with this powerful piece by Washington Post writer Maura Judkis, asking whether posting support for Paris on Facebook narcissistic, or heartfelt?
Judkis wrote:
Facebook has streamlined the sharing of sympathy for Parisians, letting users add a temporary overlay of the French flag for their profile pictures.
People snapped [the overlay function] up, posting pictures along with prayers, poems, and expressions of sorrow. Some of them were personally affected by the attacks. But a great many who were outspoken in their sympathy were not - and they are, some say, exemplary of a certain psychological principle. When we mourn someone else's tragedy on social media, is it empathy - or narcissism?
Perhaps a little of both.
"There is a principle in psychology that explains that people band together when they have a common enemy," Karen North, a professor of media psychology at the University of Southern California, said via email. "The world rightfully feels united against the terrorists."
So in every tragedy, people search for a way to express that solidarity, and often do so via hashtags and image memes. Two of the fastest-emerging and most popular were #prayforparis and an image of the Eiffel Tower turned into a peace sign.
But that's not the only psychology at work here, North said - there's also a principle called "Self-presentational needs."
"People are motivated to control and craft their public persona," North said. "These events offer an opportunity to present themselves as 'good people' and/or people who are knowledgeable."
As #prayforparis spread and was used by people farther and farther from the tragedy, it wasn't long before people began to question the veracity of those prayers, calling out a double standard. If we pray for Paris, many asked, why are we also not praying for the people of Beirut, who suffered losses in an Islamic State attack, or any other place in the world where innocent people die? Are we only praying for Paris because it's a romantic, lovely place where many Westerners vacation? That was one of several dialogues about the propriety of social media empathy that emerged in the wake of the attacks, and is still evolving.
Another #prayforparis question to consider: Why are we praying for Paris at all? The question didn't come from a lack of empathy for its wounded and dead. Rather, it was a way of pointing out that many using the hashtag were perhaps praying for their idea of Paris - crepes, the Louvre, baguettes - rather than the complicated reality of Paris. Many in France perceive themselves as a secular nation besieged by religious fundamentalists, so a call for prayer showed a jarring disconnect.
"The terrorists pray. Good people think," was one common sentiment on Twitter. Another response that quickly went viral was a drawing by French cartoonist Joann Sfar, who posted a series of drawings reacting to the attacks, with one frame in English that read:"Friends from the whole world, thank you for #PrayforParis, but we don't need more religion! Our faith goes to music! Kissing! Life! Champagne and joy! #Parisisaboutlife."
A third group of commenters discouraged people from posting anything - because in their view, any Paris-related post would inevitably be more narcissistic than sympathetic. (In the case of people posting smiling vacation selfies in front of touristy Parisian landmarks, they may be right.) One essayist, Jamie Khoo, argued that the redundant messages of empathy lend themselves more to image-crafting than support for a grieving nation. In an Elephant Journal story called "Why I'm Not Turning my Facebook Photo Blue, White and Red," she said, "I feel that just changing my photo, writing a few words and hashtag minimises (even cheapens) the tremendous, horrific reality of what is going on all around the world, not just in Paris."
"It irritates me how other people treat it like an art or photo contest," one Facebook commenter wrote.
Predictably, those who have participated in these rites responded angrily to what they saw as trying to police their emotional expression. Who is to say that posting a beautiful photo or a message of solidarity isn't a valid enough way to care?
North thinks it is; she is among the many who posted about her love and sympathy for Paris. I did, too.
"I did it for the same reason as many, that we actually do care for the strangers who were victimised and the others who were terrorised by this attack," North said.
Because social media brings us closer than ever to the victims of faraway attacks, it is possible that we feel more deeply than we would have in a pre-Facebook era. Not to mention, it is easy to put oneself in the shoes of the victims.
That was certainly on our minds, as my husband and I had dined Thursday night at a restaurant a block and a half away from La Belle Equipe, where at least 19 people died 24 hours later. We wanted to go on Friday, but changed our plans because we figured we wouldn't be able to get a table on a weekend evening in such a busy neighbourhood.
When people say, "It could have been me," they're making it all about them. But isn't the point of terrorism that it could have been us - or anyone in the wrong place at the wrong time?
