A Possible Mask

Through out life, there is a question that always manifests itself one way or another, but it amounts more or less to asking who one is. The problem begins because being able to clearly advocate an identity is a very complicated issue. It requires not only time to figure out what that identity must be, but also energy to accept and establish it from within and then step in it and show it to the world.
As a child, one attempts to conceal who one really is in order to be accepted in a circle of friends that is in the process of being built. A mistake made from the beginning because one fails to understand that one can show oneself as one is since there is not anybody in that circle who already has a set idea of whom other people should be. Unconsciously, one hides those characteristics that one feels will not be accepted by those whom one associates oneself with it. At such age, one is unable to recognize what one is doing as positive or negative. It is automatic, even normal for the adults that surround the child. But in reality, it is abnormal because from an early age one builds the idea that one is not good enough as one is to form part of a group of people. One feels as though one does not fit, so one tries to fit. Then, as one moves on to adolescence, one moves on to the conscious concealment of those traits of one’s personality that one judges as unacceptable for others as well as those features of one’s life that do not fit in to what one wants to portray. At this time, one does not only feel as if one is unfit for having a relationship with certain groups of people, but one seems to be sure that if one does not change a certain mold, then one would not be acknowledged. As a result, one becomes an image of whom one thinks others would accept one for, which means that over time one might successfully cover up one’s true identity. One is not longer who one was when one first stepped into the preschool classroom, rather one is a combination of who one thinks one is and who one thinks other people want one to be. There is always the question of who can one be also present. At times, the inquiry is not about whether one wants to be someone, but who can one afford to be.
The passage of time makes this issue more difficult to clarify. Every step one takes along the way, takes one further inside a labyrinth from which one might not be able to walk out. One becomes entangled in one’s own creation that one forgets who one really is underneath all the layers of representation one wears. Besides the internal modifications one makes in order to persuade oneself that one is whom the mirror reflects and not someone different hiding in the depth of the eyes the mirror also reflects, which are ultimately reflected externally, there are also physical changes that are in turn illustrated by one’s actions.
One of the most important physical changes that can take place is relocation across an international border. Such change raises many questions that were not previously present and simply complicate more the idea of who one is. The quest for identity now takes on a political side. Now one must also consider the fact that other people judge one based on the color of one’s skin and the like. One finds so many different labels that did not exist on a formerly used vocabulary. But one ultimately finds oneself repeating what one did as a child: constantly trying to become. The story replays itself. Whether one has come across a border as a child or as an adult, does not matter because one endeavors into acquiring the suitable characteristics through which one will be accepted at the different location. It does not help that one never really knew who one was because it has always been hidden.
One must learn to not be afraid to show one’s true identity because with or without the mask, one will always be criticized and judged unworthy at times. Yet, if one’s identity is concealed, one could simply become a bad replica of what others wish one to be. Thus, forgetting whom one is, which ultimately renders one as nonexistent.


xoxo,
Poison Drops


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