The Masks we Wear

Oscar Wilde famously said: "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."*

As can be seen, the subject of today’s post is masks: the masks we wear, the masks we use.

One of the difficulties in preparing a blog like this was creating a voice — a voice unique enough to portray ideas that wouldn’t sound right in my own name. With Fogy, I now have the rightful mask to produce the posts you read.

But what exactly is a "mask"?
Is it something we physically place over our face?

Not really. It’s a transparent layer, a filter we present to the world to make people believe we are who we want them to believe we are.

We wear masks whenever we interact with different groups.
At work, we wear a professional mask — tied to how we dress, behave, speak, and act.
At home, the mask shifts. If we're still living with our parents, it's different from the mask we wear when we're parents ourselves. We have masks for our children, and different ones for each other.

If we accept that we're constantly wearing masks, the next question is: why?

Perhaps it's because we don't really know exactly who we are.
At best, we have a general idea — a sense of who we might be, or who we might want to be.
But often, we conform to what those around us expect us to be. The mask helps us fit.

Living in a foreign country highlights this even more.
In Brazil, it’s easier for me because I don’t have to be Brazilian.
The effort Brazilians make to "act Brazilian" is immense.
I, as a foreigner, can be whoever I choose to be — though there’s still an expectation that I play the part of the "gringo." I try to avoid falling into that stereotype, but it’s something people look for the moment they see me.

The most disturbing moments happen when a mask unexpectedly drops — when a spouse, a child, or a friend catches a glimpse of what they think is the "true" self.
Often, even the person behind the mask isn’t aware they’ve changed. Their own belief in the mask is so strong that any slip feels "out of character."

Under pressure, intimidation, provocation — masks pop in and out.
The worst case is when substances like alcohol strip away all control, leaving the masks crumbling under the assault.

It makes me wonder:
When psychologists label someone a sociopath or a narcissist, are they simply labeling the mask that has appeared?
Was the "criminal" always lurking underneath, or was that too just another mask?
Are masks constant?
Is there anyone who truly lives without one?

These are hard questions to answer.

I would suggest that as we age, the need for masks lessens.
It becomes less important — less rewarding — to hide ourselves.
Sometimes it’s simply too much work for too little gain.

And if you want to see a man of many masks — look no further than the US Duck. Even he can’t keep up with which one he’s wearing.

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