The Subtle Art of Unmasking
When I was in 6th grade I sat at a lunch table with a group of girls who I wasn’t really friends with, but they were nice enough not to make me sit somewhere else. Their bangs were impeccably high, and they always seemed to have boyfriends. This was the opposite of me. One day, after the world’s greatest television show, Beverly Hills 90210, had been on the air for a couple of months, one of them boldly decided to assign each of us to one of the main characters. I feel like it’s important to add I have no memory of my childhood, and only faint wisps of everything after that, so the fact that I remember this so well really makes it stand out as a core memory. And when I tell you the rage I felt when those big haired jerk faces unanimously, and without hesitation, named me as Andrea Zuckerman instead of Brenda Walsh, I trust you will understand.
Even though I was one hundred percent a know-it-all, nerdy, ass-kisser with questionable fashion sense a la Andrea; in my heart, I was going to be the one to introduce the Twin Peaks look to my school just like Brenda did when she briefly befriended a down on her luck LA comedienne in season 1 episode 17 “Stand (Up) and Deliver.” This was important to me, probably because it was the first time I’d ever really been perceived and I did not like it. Possibly also because I was an undiagnosed autistic girl in the early 90s learning how to mask. Almost all of my most vivid memories are pivotal moments when I made a choice about the new kind of way I was going to try to be in order to see if it made me happier, or at least more like the me I thought I was — my inner Brenda Walsh, for better or for worse. The other notable memories are when the mask got too heavy, and I burned out.
I think it’s fair to say that most people put on a mask at some point in their lives. For some people, it might be the feathery eye covering on a stick from a masquerade ball in a period movie. For others, it’s the hot, bulky head piece of an amusement park bear costume, sweaty and uncomfortable. Our masks help us fit in, keep us safe, get us on the “right” track. Sometimes they help us move ourselves towards the person we want to be. But not everyone can wear one. And having the ability to mask is a complicated mix of privilege and burden. Just ask all of the non-cis, -straight, -married, -neurotypical, -sports-loving, -white men in corporate America leading the Great Resignation of 2021.
As I continue to gingerly step out of my own years-long burnout, figuring out and accepting my neurodivergence led me to really think about the concept of unmasking for the first time. I realized I’d masked so well I’d even convinced myself I was just quirky for most of my life, even while secretly feeling like an alien. The idea of unmasking has a dramatic undertone, a Big Reveal kind of energy that’s as insufficient as the term masking itself. It’s just not that straightforward.
I started to understand that the most important person to unmask for was myself. Now, I find myself questioning every small glimmer of shame, every self-judgement of being “too,” and trying to find those other core memories that made me uncomfortably self-aware to the point of changing how I performed in the world. But what surprised me was how often I caught myself masking when I was all alone.
It’s a tricky and delicate subject because of the myriad, intersectional reasons so many of us mask who we truly are in the first place. As a result, and thankfully so, it’s hard to find a lot of resources in the how-to variety. No one should tell you exactly how, or when or why you should do anything, really, but if you’ve been thinking about unmasking, here are some things to consider in your process:
- A mask isn’t a suit to put on and take off, it’s a lifetime of responses, mostly to feedback from people who don’t always have our best interests at heart, and many who did but got it wrong.
- Unmasking requires a deep commitment to self-compassion and constant self-awareness. It happens as life is happening, not necessarily when you plan for it.
- Our masked self can sometimes be the version who compromises our values for success or survival, it’s easier to unmask when you’re honest about who you are in the moment. It requires confronting your own internalized biases.
- Masks develop to keep us safe. Unmasking should be done safely, with support when possible.
- Unmasking is an endless series of choices between thoughts and actions where the standing question is “which feels most true?” in the moment.
- The version of you that you uncover doesn’t make the person you no longer are a bad or lesser version of yourself, that’s the version who got you to exactly here, which is pretty boss.
Focusing on unmaking the part of me who pretends to be comfortable when I’m not helps, whether it’s not engaging in a conversation or changing the lighting in a room or refusing food that makes my stomach hurt. So does recognizing all the code words we use to describe masking — customer service voice, people pleasing, Work Me. What helps the most is remembering that I’m still me, masked or unmasked, it’s always my big heart and squirrelly old mind making the calls. And for the record, that means relating more to Brenda than Andrea to this day, thank you very much.
