Masking can make you more authentic.

On the surface, one might be tempted to presume them opposites.

To think “the real me is the me without the mask, and to be authentic, I must take it off”.

But if we dig a little deeper into what really happens when we pretend to be someone—or something—else, we find that this statement doesn’t really hold up.

I always used to wonder why I naturally gravitate to 2 types of settings, that each embody one of these “opposites”.

On one hand, I feel passionate about creating spaces where people naturally welcome each other as they are, and by virtue of that, feel safe to show up more real and more honest.

On the other hand, I’ve always loved theme parties. Masked parties. Immersive, foreign worlds. Events with weird settings or “rules” that cause people to explore their edges or behave differently.

This used to confuse me:

Why would I be drawn to something that is almost the exact opposite? Everyone pretending they’re someone else?

But with time, as I observed how both settings function, I came to understand that they are 2 sides of the same coin. In fact, they are important to balance each other out.

To start our exploration on why and how they do, let me introduce you to…

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The Carnival

As we move through the world, we all experience impulses, thoughts and feelings that would not be appropriate, constructive or safe for the context we find ourselves in at that moment.

Participation in society requires self-censorship and the repression of impulses.

This doesn’t mean society is an oppressive force that censors us from the top-down. It’s simply a fact of life. Living in a small tribe of like-minded people would still require self-censorship.

Because if everyone who covets their neighbor’s food (or spouse) would just go for it without regard for the impact it makes, the tribe would quickly lose its social glue—and we’d all be left alone, unfit to survive in the wilderness since our species’ main strength is cooperation.

Of course, there’s a spectrum of authenticity in this:

We can self-censor and repress to the point that no one ever gets to experience a glimpse of our inner world. And we can be radically uninhibited to the point where we get kicked out of every friend group, club or workplace.

A skilled person can even find ways to be radically uninhibited while also radically respecting other people, the limitations of their role, and the context, which is one of the things Authentic Relating can teach when you really honor the practice.

That said, there’s little chance of escaping some amount of repression.

At some point, we all find ourselves in situations where we have to bite our tongue, be a little nicer than we feel inside, or keep our bodies from the laughing, punching or humping they naturally want to do.

Which means we’ll have to apply some force to repress the energies that move through us.

Over time, this accumulates in the form of tension that wants to be released.

And that’s one of the reasons we created the carnival:

An agreement that for a brief period, we collectively stop repressing and let it all hang out. All the weirdness that’s normally not allowed.

In my country of origin, the carnival is even a ritual inversion of social norms:

• Peasants dress like kings
• Straight men cross-dress
• Taboo jokes are celebrated

This goes quite far. There are specific days when playful harassment is allowed. Or where men dress as women and kiss random people in the crowd.

There have been times when people expressed racism through their masks, and the local governments were internationally pushed to forbid it, but they held their ground.

This is, of course, morally questionable. Because the mere expression of racism can already cause harm in many cases.

And yet, it was an impossible choice for them, because to outlaw it during the carnival would mean the end of its social function:

The carnival only works when it is not bound by the rules of morality that govern our world on other days.

The things that can never be acted on (or expressed) are the ones we apply the most downward pressure on in society, which means they most need a release valve.

By creating a ritual in which those things are allowed to a certain degree, any repressed impulses have a way to be liberated on the individual level while staying contained on the societal level—in hopes that this will reduce the chances of it happening unprompted, outside of containment.

This is held by a few unspoken agreements:

It has to remain in the spirit of humor, not harm.

Everyone participates in the inversion of social norms, so no individual is personally accountable for what gets expressed.

And everyone is informed it will happen, so anyone who doesn’t want to be impacted can stay off the street.

If all the men agree to dress up like women and kiss other men, anyone with repressed desires or impulses gets to go for it, just once, without changing their social identity or even self-image.

People who desire power or glory get to live like a king or queen for one day, celebrated by the crowds.

If everyone says “free speech is real for one day and we agree that anything you joke about will not be considered a real opinion”, anyone who self-censors their hateful but forbidden thoughts gets to let out their venom—while anyone who doesn’t have such thoughts, gets to explore what it would be like to be on the other side of the spectrum.

Both things happen, which means that the mask offers plausible deniability:

For some, it’s a game of dress-up and fantasy. For others, it allows them to finally be real about some things.

All that repressed energy is now freed, and hopefully, this cleans the gunk out of people’s system for another year of pro-social participation in society.

On one hand, during the carnival, people are putting on masks. Pretending to be someone else.

But at the same time, this is one of the few times they take the mask off.

Because while wearing this mask, they can behave in ways they normally “wouldn’t”.

The mask enables people to “save face being real”.

Politeness greases the wheels of society. But the carnival keeps them from flying off.

Now let’s have a look at what happens to people who always wear a mask, instead of just once a year.

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Anon Twitter Accounts

Some of my favorite accounts on twitter are anonymous.

Twitter is one of the few social media platforms where you can have an account that is not tied to your identity.

Interestingly, those accounts often write in a way I perceive as more “real” than is the norm.

There’s a logical reason for this:

The majority of people, when going on a first date or a job interview, will at least partially be managing how the other person sees them.

Not necessarily by lying or manipulating, but we all have things we’re shy of revealing.

Posting on social media is, in a way, letting the whole world see you.

Any post you make doesn’t just go out to your friends.

It might also be going out to all your future employers, anyone you’ll date and their friends, anyone spying on you for the government. And if you go viral, the opinion of every other person in the world.

There may be some things you simply don’t feel comfortable speaking plainly about, as dealing with the social impact would require insane amounts of resilience.

Anon accounts don’t face this problem. By wearing a mask, they get to be more authentic than most of us.

Now let’s look at an inversion of this dynamic:

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Performative Authenticity

When an influencer decides they want to bring more authenticity in their brand, what do they do?

Create more content about struggles and feelings. Wear more sweatpants and less makeup.

For some people, that may indeed be the type of content they feel authentically inspired to create.

But I’m sure you’ve noticed that there’s a predictable formula to it. “Authentic” is an aesthetic, and people carefully follow the rules.

Meanwhile, when you look at someone like Kanye (hate him or love him), there is a degree of authenticity in his staged performance that is obvious to anyone watching.

It’s almost an inverted dynamic.

Now, we can blame the big PR-firms and media companies for taking the word “authentic” and turning it into an upside-down travesty of what it means (fake humility or emotional exhibitionism), but I think this is normal tendency that exists in us:

We’re not just here to be authentic. We’re here to be authentic and connected. So we do adjust to the context and the social norms.

The performative authenticity as a strategy is a natural consequence of media companies figuring out what people feel connected to and finding a way to achieve that.

I’ve observed this same tendency in highly authentic individuals through my work:

If a facilitator, at the start of the session, says: “In this space, you are welcome exactly as you are.”, you can witness 2 things happening:

Some people relax. Weight off their shoulders, the body melting. They indeed, become a bit less repressed. Like the carnival, they recognize they’re in a temporary context that offers liberation.

Others, steer themselves towards showing up in a way that appears more real. Maybe they look at the relaxers and mimic it. Or they subconsciously ask themselves “how can I make sure to be a bit more of me?”

What’s happening there? The social mind has deduced that “increased realness” is the most appropriate behavior for the space. This is the same thing as the performative authenticity of celebrities. It exists in all of us, because we long for connection.

Now, if you’re a big fan of authenticity you may be judging the latter group as fake.

But the paradox is that authenticity can not be increased without veering into what feels inauthentic:

The responses of both groups are equally genuine. Our repression is as genuine as our expression. It’s all just us expressing ourselves with the degree of truthfulness or masking that you have capacity for in that moment.

In fact, the only way to learn to speak with a higher degree of authenticity is to practice sharing a little more than you naturally would: In other words, acting different from your natural tendencies.

Masks, theme parties and the carnival are a crutch for that:

You can take risks and explore that edge, express parts of yourself you normally wouldn’t, and if anything goes wrong, you can always blame the mask.

(Or blame the tequila. Tequila is a socially acceptable masking ritual too. In fact, I’ve seen people get wasted taking shots of water they believed would get them drunk. And act out the same parts of themselves they’d normally blame on the alcohol.)

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Masks As an Integration Practice

In all of these examples, what masking allows us to do (and why I believe it can lead to greater authenticity), is welcome back parts of ourselves we have exiled.

Performative authenticity exists solely because there are parts of us we have labeled as “really us” and parts we have labeled as not us.

If someone told you “be more you!” that’s technically impossible, and yet most of us would know exactly what to do:

We simply show more of the parts we have labeled as our “true self”.

That said, there’s a reason why we exile parts of ourselves:

Sometimes that reason is simply shame. Other times, it’s potential for harm (same reason we exile people from society).

That’s the downside of anonimity: it also gives evil a way to integrate.

Anyone whose morality is based purely on social accountability (and not intrinsic care for others) can use a mask to get away with it.

That said, the other side of the coin is true too:

If you live in a place where genuinely healthy or good behavior is persecute (e.g. by an oppressive regime), a mask can allow you to get away with it.

Or if, let’s say, you want to do something good: Like donating a billion dollars to serve people in need.

Doing it anonymously allows you to do it in a way that is free from other social consequences (like publicly revealing your identity inadvertently impacting things like the stock market and your company’s public perception, or—if your money was made doing shady things—having the donation refused because the recipient couldn’t publicly associate with you.)

The key principle underneath all these examples is:

Masks make us more authentic when they liberate us from the social consequences of authenticity we normally wouldn’t dare to risk.

This can be through collective context in which everyone agrees to temporarily remove the consequences, such as a nation-wide carnival, a one-time orgy with your entire friend group (so that nobody ends up on the kissing cam of a Coldplay concert with the wrong person’s spouse), or —a favorite of mine—all agreeing to dance badly instead of trying to dance well.

It can also be through a personal context, like cosplaying, creating an anonymous (or acted) online persona, or traveling by yourself and exploring parts of your personality you’re not used to expressing at home.

…and it can even be through a private context:

What if you spend a whole day in your house, pretending you’re different?

In the late 2000s I did a series of exploriments where I pretended to have a specific trait when going out (e.g. “for 3 months, I’ll be very arrogant, or very kind”). Turns out, every game of pretense I tried to play was just discovering a side of me that wanted to be integrated and made me more whole.

I repeated this in the late 2010s with belief systems: I’d act as if I was highly religious for a month, for example, and discover parts of me that were repressed because of my devotion to rationality.

In other words: No physical mask is necessary.

Any mask can help you find parts of yourself that were missing.

And in doing so, every mask has the potential to make you more authentic.