I recently watched the documentary, “The Mask You Live In”, and for me, it had a message that hit hard. I’ve written about my gender fluidity and my struggles with acceptance from my family, but I’ve not written about my struggle with myself. Today, that changes. Today, I write about my mask that I’ve lived in, and the toxic masculinity it represents.
The mask I’ve lived in is not one I’d want to share with anyone. It isn’t something I’d wear to Halloween parties, theaters, or even just to be silly. My mask is something much darker, sinister. My mask is one of fear. It is something created out of a web of hatred, ignorance, and oppression that has tried to make me something that I’m not.
I first noticed my mask when I was fourteen.
My mask was there to protect me, but at what cost? What had I given up just so I didn’t have to be afraid? My mask let me claim that I was a man, but was that really true? I can only imagine what harm my mask has done to others. I hope it isn’t as bad as what it did to me; I’ll bear these scars forever.
I was fourteen.
Do you all remember those hate mongers who visited a few weeks ago? I was almost one of them, once upon a time. I was a child who had transformed my hatred of myself into hatred of others, all in the name of something I pretended was love. I thought it was the only way I could be a man. But as much as I tried to fight it; as much as I tried to will it away, my truth pervaded my entire existence. Finally, I accepted it. But for a while, I didn’t feel like you might expect. I accepted it, but I hated it.
I was fourteen.
I had failed God. I had failed my parents. I had failed the man that I thought was me. I had become that thing I had been taught to fear. It terrified me that my mask was not the real me; that the aura of masculinity I was told to project was nothing more than a facade. I was more afraid of that than I was of God himself. It terrified me to feel whole. It terrified me to feel like me. It terrified me because I didn’t want to hate myself, but I thought I had to. I felt that fear with my every nerve, every pore, every cut. I wanted to end it all.
I was fourteen.
…
Today, I’m twenty-one.
Things are different now. Only a shadow of my mask remains. After learning to love myself all those years ago, I embarked on a crusade against my mask. Everywhere I could, I challenged it, and I defeated it. I learned to not only love myself, but to love others, and in the end, I discovered that love truly does trump hate. I know that I’m not the only person who’s lived behind a mask for most of their life. I know that I was never really alone in my struggle. So to those of you out there who are still fighting your own mask, I have something to tell you: believe in yourself. Believe that you have the power within you to throw away the mask and become the real you. Believe in your ability to love, and eventually, you will break free of the mask that tries to define you. It will be hard, but you can do it, because I did too.
When I was fourteen.