This month’s Indieweb Carnival is on “Masks, Identities & Cosplay” and this post is a response to the prompt “I invite you to consider what masks and cosplay mean and how they interact with identity, for you.”
The Mask In the Mirror
I don’t have many mirrors in my house. It never occurred to me to have a bunch, a simple one in the bathroom and a longer one somewhere to see outfits seems plenty to me. My teenaged daughter disagrees. One reason not to have them is they make me uncomfortable. Not in a “I don’t like the way I look” way. But because they startle me. Or can, they don’t always. It’s when I’m not expecting to see myself and I catch a glimpse of me anyway. The person looking back is me. Just unrecognizable. A stranger’s face meeting my eyes. Eerie.
I know this is not a common experience. It’s a byproduct of a trait that has shaped me. From childhood I was never sure who I was looking at unless I knew them really well or they stayed in the same context (a teacher in their classroom). Friendships suffer when you don’t acknowledge the person when you are out and about. Embarrassing situations abound. I tell people I’m bad at names and faces. They say they are too. But I think we are using different yardsticks to measure. Sometimes I don’t recognize my kids in different settings unless something else gives it away.
Yeah, I’m face blind.
In my case, using someone’s face as an aspect of their identity would be futile. So what holds firm? For me, speaking of the physical attributes, it’s the voice. Followed closely by their mannerisms and their gait. But more telling is the constellation of facts I keep about them. And somewhat importantly, if they are still holding firm to them. Change enough of the orbiting facts and you’ll be you, but just a different you to me if that makes sense. Not a mask or costume change. My perception shifts.
A month or so ago I gave a friend a ride home. We talked about common interests and at one point I asked why he started learning tai chi (years ago) if he was already practicing another style of martial arts at that point. It was because he found himself becoming a harsh person with the practice. Tai chi cultivates the opposite and he wanted that. For years he struggled with being kinder, being supportive, and being understanding. To me he currently embodies all those qualities. He identifies as someone struggling with it. I identify him as someone already there. Who’s right? Is identity a present state, a past narrative, or both?
When I’m startled by the face in the mirror, I’m still me. But if that stranger could look back out, would it also share that lack of recognition? My friend struggles with the story he tells himself built from his lifetime of experiences. When your inner self, like mine, offers no such narrative (I have almost no autobiographical memory), how should you piece yourself together? I have no choice other than to place my identity in the same way I recognize it in others. My inner collection of self facts forms a cohesive pattern. A bedrock of values I’ve formed each time I chose kindness, or openness, or admitted I was wrong. This is key in how I view identity. A view that is achingly present. If I embody qualities long enough, I change. My self perception shifts. I’m a different me.
I’ve never done cosplay or worn costumes outside of Halloween. I know a lot of people who enjoy it, the chance to embody a different person or to try on a new perspective. In terms of masks I’ve heard them used in a way that suggests different personas. I’m not sure I know how to do that. People who’ve known me across different segments of my life have remarked I present myself in a similar way, no matter the situation. When playing or running role playing games I excel at organization, rule knowledge, and setting up scenarios. I fall depressingly short at the role playing part of the game. No matter what tricks I try, I can’t imagine being anything other than how I am right now. Good thing I’m fond of my mask in the mirror.
