I remember visiting the San Diego Zoo as a preschool-aged child. I must have been about 4 years old because that is the year that the zoo hosted a pair of Golden Snub-Nosed Monkeys, on loan from China. The “Golden Monkeys” were a highlight of our visit, and my parents bought me a Golden Monkey Mask as a souvenoir. That evening, I wore it at the restaurant where we stopped for dinner after our zoo day. I loved peering at the world through those awkward eye holes. I saw friendly adults who looked over at me from their tables and smiled as I quietly acted monkey-like while waiting for my parents to deconstruct my wonton wrappers and meat so I could eat them in separate bites that worked for my sensory sensitivities.
That’s one kind of mask. It’s a mask that I could choose to put on and unlock a world of pretend play, mystery and nonverbal connection. The mask I’m discussing today is also a kind that earns approval from adults who nod and smile when you wear it, but it becomes iron-clad over time and creativity manages to seep away through the cracks. It’s a mask that’s more about hiding than mystery. It allows you to present a version of yourself that makes other people happy.
Our world has a tendency early on to praise and approve behavior that fits within a tight circle of societal norms. No square pegs. Sitting still. Making eye contact. Saying the right kind of response in small talk. Acting a certain way when you’re quite excited, overstimulated, or scared. Ignoring sensory issues. Children pick up on this, and (girls especially) begin to work hard at learning the neurotypical dance. Sit still on your carpet square, even if it hurts. Don’t jump up and down and flap your hands in excitement. Don’t act too excited if someone brings up microbes or Van Gogh. Oops, I gushed for too long about my special interests. I’d better go over this list of possible things to talk about before the party. Copy how others are acting to fit in.
We praise the children for good behavior without understanding what they are sacrificing and how hard they are scrutinizing and working to keep in step. Then, because the child is doing “so well” at school, diagnoses get missed. Dyslexia. ADHD. Autism. Auditory Processing Disorder. Anxiety. OCD. Depression. On the reverse side, unidentified learning differences cloud up and hide the shiny bits. Strengths. Giftedness. And the masking girl becomes a masking teen. The masking teen becomes a masking college student. The masking college student becomes the professional. The parent. Still scrutinizing and curating conversation, movement, behaviors and eye contact. We start seeing burnout and exhaustion, despite at times high levels of achievement~ excellent grades, merit scholarships, good jobs.
What to do next is so very huge that we need to pare it down to the very first bites. Can we make space for people who are different? Can we look for little shifts to make events, friendships and showing up more accessible? Can we start noticing the nuances of adults and children who are dog paddling to stay afloat? Can we make space for the kid who impulsively blurts out answers, can’t sit still on the carpet square or who can’t shut up about trains or endangered owls? We’ll make mistakes along the way. The goal is first to notice, and then make a little change; create an opening. For those of us who are still masking after all these years, can we be brave to let ourselves be?
Find places where you feel safe to let the mask slide, breathe free, flap, fidget, be silent or whatever true self looks like for you.
We can do this.
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