Who Are We Behind Our Masks?

We’re not living authentically if we overly identify with our social roles.

One of my former students, a popular Instagram figure, had painted beautiful murals on the walls of her apartment. When it was time for her to move out, she had to repaint the walls white.

Although it somewhat pained her to cover her beloved lion mural, she gave her viewers a lesson in non-attachment. “The lion is still there, knocking around,” she said. “He’s just wearing a mask.” However, we do this ourselves throughout our lives, painting various layers over our true selves.

The problems with our masks

We put on various masks to shield ourselves from the world. We put on several masks to define “us” in one context, only to put on another mask to define “us” in another. One mask might serve to protect us, and another might help us blend in with others.

One problem, however, is when we believe that we are the masks we wear. We see this in a society that upholds identity politics and cultural ownership. We see this when we emphasize “us vs. them.” We claim this dance or clothing style is “ours.” We put walls, boundaries, and borders around what belongs to “us.” What falls outside these lines is “them.” Our classifications make us feel comfortable, even if it’s only for a short time. We fail to see ourselves as individuals.

We put walls, boundaries, and borders around what belongs to “us.”

Another problem is that our masks can distort how we see things. They color our perception of reality. This creates conflicts because we demand other people to see things the way that we do, even if we, too, are wearing a mask that distorts our perception. Sometimes our masks are so opaque that we fail to see reality at all.

On a personal level, problems also occur when one mask contradicts the other. For example, we might cherish the mask of “Christian,” but we also embrace the mask of “American.” If we encounter a scenario where our “American” mask might compromise our Christian values, which mask do we choose?

Our illusory freedom

We’ve become so comfortable with our illusory masks that removing them might arouse fear and discomfort. We like to belong to various groups. We don’t want people to see our authentic selves underneath the thick layers of illusion. We then behave according to our masks — our illusory selves — rather than our authentic selves. Our identities are bound by these illusions, which sacrifice our freedom.

In Practical Mysticism, Evelyn Underhill explains that society conditions us to believe that we are our social status, and society keeps us locked in these roles.

For years, your treasure has been in the Stock Exchange, or the House of Commons, or the Salon, or the reviews that ‘really count’ (if they still exist), or the drawing rooms of Mayfair; and thither your heart perpetually tends to stray. Habit has you in chains. You are not free.

In other words, we’ve become overly identified with the external world and its temporal things. We have no idea what inner freedom feels like because we are looking for the external world to liberate us. If we believe who the external world tells us we are, we find ourselves stuck in these roles and identities. In Out of Solitude, Henri Nouwen writes, “When we have sold our identity to the judges of this world, we are bound to become restless because of a growing need for affirmation and praise.”

This outer world keeps us perpetually distracted and anxious, yet it promises that freedom is just a click away. It profits from our attachment to our masks. As I write this, I’m uploading a video onto YouTube. The ad at the top left says, “If you’re over 50, these are the things you shouldn’t wear.”

We have no idea what inner freedom feels like because we are looking for the external world to liberate us.

If I am overly conscious of how others see me, I would feel compelled to find out what I shouldn’t wear. This ad relies on my being bound to rules regarding my age. This ad needs me to wear the social mask of “old” so that I will purchase whatever this ad is selling.

This calls us to ask ourselves — are we aware of the masks society puts on us? Are we aware of the masks we put on ourselves? Who are we behind the mask?

Revealing our essential self

Underhill challenges us to shed the masks that shield us from seeing things for what they are. Like that annoying person who talks incessantly throughout a movie, we often label and react to what’s around us rather than experiencing each moment in its newness. She believes that deep down, we have a sense of self that is free from the societal masks. This comes from our “parting of the conceptual veil.”

Underhill assures us that all of us possess this “essential self.” This self is unchanging, even beyond the ebb and flow of our afflictive states and experiences. This self doesn’t have to compromise or make excuses because it is grounded in integrity and truth. This is the self when you are alone, and the self on which you build the foundation of an authentic life. Underhill offers this vision:

You will, in fact, know your own soul for the first time and learn that there is a sense in which this real You is distinct from an alien within the world in which you find yourself, as an actor has another life when he is not on the stage.

This is what true liberation looks like — refraining from the role in a play that we didn’t write. Instead, we step off the stage altogether.

Developing our concentration

Underhill invites us to a “spring-cleaning of the soul,” which means shedding the identities that society programs into us. We must first harness our scattered minds by developing our mind’s capacity to concentrate. This turning inward, or recollection, is integral for our liberation. It is also the first step in contemplation.

Depending on how much grime is on our windows, this process might take a while. Quick fixes only bring changes on the surface, but a deep tilling of the soul takes some patience and perseverance.

Underhill suggests focusing on something specific, such as a simple object or concept. This practice is similar to the yogic practice of dharana, or one-pointed attention. This makes us more aware of how we’re tempted to classify things and layer them within our minds. Instead, we peel away the labels and refrain from jumping on a train of thought.

With practice, Underhill writes, the devil of distraction grows tired and lets us sink deeper into our practice. We eventually leave the world of excessive thinking and illusory perceptions and experience raw, unfettered reality. This, she says, is where we begin to discover our authentic self.

[Y]ou will at last discover that there is something within you — something behind the fractious, conflicting life of desire — which you can recollect, gather up, make effective for new life…When you do not merely believe this but know it; when you have achieved this power of withdrawing yourself, of making this first crude distinction between appearance and reality, the initial stage of the contemplative life has been won.

Drop our attachments

After this initial stage of cultivating our mental concentration, Underhill encourages us to peel back another layer — one of the will. Many of us spend much of our energy chasing external desires that bring temporary pleasure but eventual pain. Because we’ve caught a glimpse of the authentic self trying to break through, we begin to discern the desires of the authentic self from those of the “surface self.” It’s not that these selves are separate bodies. The surface self is a thick layer — a mask — that encases and clings to the authentic self.

Underhill compares our desires and attachments to several whirlpools that suck up our energy. They also take us nowhere but downward. We have to recognize how these whirlpools interrupt the “River of Becoming,” and we must aim to navigate ourselves away from them.

She asks us to question what we believe to be “ours,” particularly our attitudes towards them. When we believe we are what we have, that which we have possesses us. She warns that our hedonism actually oppresses us.

You are enslaved by the verb “to have”: all your reactions to life consist in corporate or individual demands, appetites, wants. That “love of life” of which we sometimes speak is mostly cupboard love.

Once we drop the baggage of our attachments, we can walk a little lighter and see a little more clearly. Rather than desire impermanent things, we desire simplicity.

We also recognize that our masks have kept us in a hard shell of self-absorption. When the authentic self breaks through the mask, our actions themselves become more authentic because they aren’t rooted in creating more identities and labels. We do things for “love of goodness, not for love of the I, Me, Mine, Self, and the like.”

The benefits of living without a mask

When our actions aren’t based on living up to expectations, others don’t find our behavior contradictory. We don’t have to choose acting one way around one group of people and another way with another group. We abandon the play, the role, and the drama altogether. Therefore, we live more at ease with ourselves and others.

When our thoughts and will are rooted in goodness, there’s a uniformity that makes us more trustworthy towards others. No one can accuse us of living a double-standard because we’re not trying to be something we’re not.

Our clarity of mind and will can also make us more effective in our lives and those of others. When we see things beyond “what’s in it for me,” we maintain a grounded sensibility in making responsible decisions that benefit the good of all.

No one can accuse us of living a double-standard because we’re not trying to be something we’re not.

This isn’t a “once-and-done” process. It’s a continual shedding of masks and identities that might cling to us throughout our lives. The world might like quick fixes and immediate results, but these fail to endure over time. Instead, we work slowly, mindfully, and gradually, knowing that each step in the process is an education in living with integrity.

It can start simply, even as a moment of awakening while painting the walls.