At Face Value

A friend and I are having lunch together. We're comfortable with each other, and we enjoy the rare times we can get together. These are the times we can talk, without interruption and totally unguarded. Well, me, I'm always unguarded. I'm among those rare people in the world who are maskless and totally open. I reveal my true self no matter where I am or who I'm with. This is a trait of myself I've never really explored. Today, with my friend, I want to examine this important aspect of who I am.

I open the conversation easily, "Have you met people who are totally open . . . you know, without masks? Like me?"

He thinks a moment, "Yes, but not many. Less than can be counted on one hand."

He's not the only one I've asked this question. Like the two of us, the others were in their thirties. However, my other friends were able to be more specific. They had met maybe two totally maskless people in their lives, myself included. Personally, I can't think of anyone . . . well, maybe one professor. We seem to be a rare breed.

"So, what is it that makes us so different? I mean, I know we're open. But, what does that mean? What is the common thread between me and the other open people you have known?" This is a question I haven't been able to find a clear answer.

Like the masks most people wear, my masklessness is natural to me. It's just a part of my personality. Just as most people would have to think about revealing their true selves to others and actually make an effort to do so, I have to work at creating and wearing a mask. If others don't like what they see, don't like the real me as I am, then that is their problem. Perhaps that sounds rude, but I would rather be true to myself than to play games and be false. People mean too much to me for that.

My friend considers the question thoughtfully, then comes up with an unexpected answer, "They are guileless."

I look at him questioningly, so he continues, "They are blunt and totally honest. When you ask a question, you know you're going to get an honest opinion. But you also better want the answer because they'll give it to you straight. They can be tactful about it, but you still may get a totally unexpected answer."

"Unless it's me. I have no tact and I admit it," I grin. Then I pause to consider my next question very carefully, "What is your initial reaction to people without masks?"

His answer is quicker this time, "Delightful and guarded." Noting my surprise, he continues, "Open people can be unpredictable. Not knowing what to expect can be wonderfully surprising, but can also put you on your guard."

I think my friend's reaction is unique. Most people I meet seem to think I'm naive and tend to keep a distance. I get this feeling that they don't know what to make of me, and perhaps can't believe anyone can be so open. Masks are just too common in our society, so much so that those of us without are often perceived as strange or unreal. Occasionally I run into people who seem fascinated by my ability to reveal myself so easily, but not often.

"Do you ever feel protective?" This is a reaction I get a lot. "People seem to equate openness with an innocence that they must protect, or with someone who is so naive about the world that they must be protected. I don't see myself that way, but I have plenty of friends who seem to have taken on the 'big brother' role."

He thinks about that a moment, "Sometimes."

Resigning to the apparent inevitability of that reaction, I change direction slightly, "What does it mean to be open and without masks to you? My husband and I talked a little about this last night, and we couldn't agree on our definition. He thinks he's not wearing a mask when he talks to some of his black friends. But if you listen to him from another room, you would swear I had a 'brotha' in the kitchen on the phone. I argued that it is a mask, but he doesn't see it that way."

"Environment and situation do affect how you act and react."

"Oh, I agree, but while I modify my language for a three-year-old, I don't become a three-year-old. His entire persona changes: language, tone of voice, pronunciation. It's like he becomes a black person, using their slang and everything. I don't mind it. Actually, I think it's kinda funny . . . and cute. But the first time he called someone from my house I had to look to see who was talking on my phone! My point is that what he does when he's talking to his black friends is a mask because none of it's a part of his behavior any other time."

He nods, "Okay. I can agree there."

"So the open, maskless person doesn't change who they are according to the situation even though they will adjust to it."

His agreement helps crystallize this one issue that has been a bit fuzzy around the edges in most of my recent discussions about being without masks. It seems most people justify their masks by leaning too heavily on the circumstances surrounding their behavior. I have always felt that adjusting to a particular situation is different than changing because of it. It's a fine point that needs clarifying. In any situation, the real me shows through; everything I am in one context I am also in another.

"What is your experience with being open and without masks?"

Having gone through at least one crises with my openness at its core, his question is easy to answer. "It's a challenge."

"In what ways?"

"In almost every way. For me being without masks may be natural, but it isn't necessarily easy. I am challenged to know who I am . . . I can't hide from the good or the bad inside. I have to keep in touch with my innermost self as well as with life. I am almost forced to define myself more than most people because I have to be aware of who I am to be true to myself. And I have to be aware of the fact that I am still becoming: no one is always the same in any given moment. Unfortunately, a lot of people don't seem to realize that, so I have to also be aware that when I change my mind, people may see that as being masked . . . or flakey."

"Sounds like you've thought about it before."

I shake my head, "In a way. Not like this. Not what does it mean in general, but more of a . . . personal look at what it means to me. And whether or not I should continue to be open. Revealing yourself can be painful: people reject you, misunderstand you, and many even find ways to take advantage of you . . . or try to. Even if people don't treat you like there's something wrong with you, there are other reactions to deal with.

"That protectiveness I mentioned earlier? In a way it's a compliment, it shows they care, but it's also annoying. These friends know I am a pretty smart cookie, but persist in treating me like I have no clue about the outside world. Some protectiveness is okay. But the extreme, where people are trying to shield you from everything, is aggravating. I get so frustrated when I ask a question about something and people won't answer me in a misguided belief that they need to protect my innocence or some such nonsense."

"I'll keep that in mind . . . ," Mock seriousness in his tone.

I smile, "You do that . . .," I tease, then pause to collect my thoughts.

"I had to face all this a few years ago. I had met some people who acted like I was like some kind of strange bug or alien or something. It was obvious they couldn't believe anyone could be that open. It came on the heels of a couple of other painful situations that were also related to my openness . . . and I had to come to grips with it. I was faced with the question: will I continue to be open or will I let this stuff close me up? It was a very difficult and painful couple of weeks while I hashed it all out."

He smiles, his affection and support obvious, "I'm glad you didn't close up."

I am thoughtful in my reply, "I think everyone who is that open has to come face to face with it eventually. I made a decision to be who I am without really thinking about the consequences. Later I had to consider that decision again with the consequences in mind. It was hard and it hurt a lot to have to do that. I think I am more . . . accepting of the masks now. People wear them to protect themselves. I also think I am more understanding about the reactions I get sometimes. Being around someone who's so revealing can be scary. You might be forced to face your own masks and have to make a conscious decision about them."

"But people know they can trust you. You will tell them the truth and people can rely on you."

"True. But most of us are so used to the games that when someone is totally real and reveals who they are, we just don't know how to handle it, " I pause sheepishly.

"I must admit, I do have one weakness. Because I am who I am, I tend to take others at face value. I accept them as they are, but more than likely they aren't being totally open. That's not to say they're being dishonest, or even that they're aware of what they're doing. But they probably still have a mask in the way. It's a fine line, and I do get hurt from it. I think it's one of the reasons why my husband would rather I closed up . . . he doesn't like to see me hurt. And maybe that's why my friends are so protective sometimes."

His eyes meet mine, "Is it worth it?"

I don't hesitate, "Yes. I want to touch others' lives and show them that things can be different; the masks aren't necessary for life, just comfortable. But, most of all, I'd rather touch people with who I really am than with a mask. Masks are illusions, only the real can set you free."



Essay written October 9, 1998
grade: A-
Special thanks to Hood who allowed me to use this conversation for my essay.