Most of us have lived our whole lives wearing masks we didn’t know we had in the first place.
We act calm and collected when we’re overwhelmed. We act grounded when we’re actually spiraling. We pretend not to care when we care deeply… and although it helps us survive, it doesn’t make us thrive.
Somewhere early on, we start to learn what’s safe to show and what’s better to hide. From a very young age we start performing; shaping ourselves into what gets approval, avoiding rejection, and earning a place in our group. When it works, we don’t question it. We just keep wearing that carefully crafted mask, until one day we notice it.
Maybe we are coming home from a night out: a family dinner, a hangout with friends, a date we were excited about, and the first thing we do when we close the door to our house behind us is sigh in relief. “Finally,” we think. Finally, I can relax, I can drop the act and just be. Even if we don’t even realize this consciously, the moment of relief we feel is real, and we relax, leave the mask by the door, and the first thing we do the next morning is pick it up again.
But what would happen if you forgot to wear the mask one day?
A lot of men have never asked themselves this question, even fewer have thought about it at all, yet all of us have felt the exhaustion that comes from actively keeping it all together, all the time. The toll from managing that version we show of ourselves with surgical caution.
We perform at our jobs, with our friends, and even with our most important people; fearing that if we don’t look the way we think we have to look for the others we might be rejected, seen as something we don’t want to be seen as, or for some, even worse, be seen at all.
Not taking the mask with us would be a catastrophe.
We build masks and perform when we are scared to be seen as who we are. Maybe we haven’t even seen who we really are ourselves, and that scares us. We hold onto these masks as if our whole lives were dependent on them, failing to realize that most times they’re a wall we carefully built to keep us safe: Both from someone else’s judgment and from our own.
Most of our masks were built out of fear: Fear of judgment, fear of weakness, fear of not being enough. But there’s a trap that we don’t always see, one that’s even scarier: If we wear our masks for too long, we will forget what’s underneath them. So, we hold the act as if that was our whole life, not noticing that it’s the very thing keeping us from actually living.
Taking off our masks feels extremely dangerous at first: like standing in the open, exposed, waiting to be judged.
But that uncomfortable (at first) exposure is what leads to a healthier life: We can’t connect if we’re performing, and we can’t be loved for who we are if we never show who that is. It’s when we realize this that we can see the whole picture and flip the very idea of the mask on itself: It’s when we realize what we are doing with our own mask, and how tired and exhausted we are about it, that we can see and feel that tiredness on someone else as well. And when we take the first step to take off our mask, the people around you feel the invitation to do the same.
Suddenly it’s not about weakness anymore, and it becomes about leadership; about empowering your connections through authenticity and vulnerability. We’re taught to reject vulnerability. To be cold, efficient, problem-solving machines with no emotions, but no real relationship, be it friendship, love, or brotherhood, is built on performance.
Relationships, and connections, are built on presence. They’re built by showing up.
When we show up performing, we are not showing up at all. When you are fully present (honest, authentic, imperfect: human) it’s when we give space for the rest to enter our lives, and when we stop surviving and start living.
If we want to live authentically, and help our people do the same, we need to learn to recognize when we are putting on a mask. The easiest way to do so is when we catch ourselves acting “as if”. Acting as if we were okay when we weren’t, acting as if we were calm when we were on the verge of a breakdown, acting as if we don’t care when we truly and deeply do.
It’s important to note that catching ourselves acting “as if” is not a failure, it’s a signal: it means there’s something underneath that’s asking to be seen, and we owe it to ourselves, to our real selves, to listen.
There’s nothing wrong with wearing a mask once in a while. Sometimes we need it to get through a hard moment… but most of the time, we don’t. And every time we default to performing, we miss a chance. A chance to be seen, to be known, to be free.
By understanding how our masks work, and why we put them on, we not only learn more about ourselves, but we gain insight into the people we love: A good leader will be able to spot when someone close is acting “as if” and know how to show up to ease the load. But that kind of connection comes from understanding how to show up, and not perform, ourselves.
So remember: It’s not about just showing up. It’s about showing up without performing.