Masked Men

Give a man a mask and he’ll tell you the truth. Oscar Wilde

This is the tale of Dr. Ted and Mr. Jack, or of a man with a mask.

Ted was the introverted one in his family. Whenever he withdrew from the world around him his active behavior would transfigure into a dynamic, whispered tranquility that drew power from the inner world of thoughts and feelings and dreams. This secluded, transcendent realm was a refuge for him.

His reclusive self was valid and valuable, but among men he was less suitable. The manly world was not populated with the quiet types, the thinkers, the writers, the idealists. Those men were pretenders, almost otherworldly, and not usually seen as saddle worthy or piss easies. Of course, there would always be a place for poets, composers, dancers, and artists, but not on the barren frontier where real men lived and died.

These softer men had their own places to be – like libraries, museums, churches, piano recitals, ballet rehearsals, and play practices. They had their own things to do – like reading a book under a tree, watching the clouds drift along, practicing clarinet scales, memorizing lyrics for the school musical, and becoming relevant through pseudosports like horseshoes, badminton, ping pong, or bocce ball.

Meanwhile, real men were becoming athletic and muscular through rough contact sports like rugby, football, basketball, wrestling, and soccer. They spent their time learning how to toy with women, use a shotgun, field dress a deer, or make their own beer. They gave no thought to the tests and challenges on the jagged pathway to manhood. Mounting a horse would become as laidback as breathing, and as desirable as black coffee, whiskey, and snuff.

For Ted, being on the mannish frontier was like being a foreigner where he barely knew the language, had no idea where he was, and was afraid to ask for directions. Every one of these challenges – the language barrier that makes it impossible to be understood, the confusion of not knowing where he belonged, and the paralyzing hesitation to admit he needed help – led him to hide his inability to communicate, to repress the feeling he did not belong, and to deny he needed any help.

The truth is that traversing the masculine landscape is an arduous endeavor for any man. It’s territory that cannot be conquered; it can only be survived. No man can endure the rugged terrain without being scarred. These wounds come from missed opportunities, failed challenges, half-hearted attempts, overwhelming fears, diminished invincibility, and simple but formidable cowardice. All men carry the expectation they should always succeed at being a man’s man, while evading the reality that this barren place can become a no man’s land.

The Code of American Manhood is the collection of rules, signals, clues and cues that command the image of authentic American masculinity. This image was transformed in the early 20th century with the onset of World War I and the Great Depression. During this timeframe, American society embarked upon an imperceptible process by which the question What is a man? was answered through a whole new paradigm.

The provider and protector roles of the earlier era proved to be inadequate in articulating the kind of men America needed to remain strong and expansive. The war and the Depression brought the insight that the ideal man was no longer intellectual, noble, considerate, sentimental, magnanimous, and dutiful. The emerging model was characterized by rugged self-reliance, fearlessness, invulnerability, emotional detachment, physical isolation, and sexual aggression.

For many men like Ted, conforming to this modern model of manliness is accomplished only by splitting the soul into two distinct partitions – one housing his authentic self and the other harboring his fabricated self. The authentic self is the persona reflected in the mirror, an image Ted easily recognizes and appreciates. The fabricated persona is a mask that Ted can’t see in the mirror because it’s only seen by others. This other man is Jack.

Ted has no trouble seeing himself for whom he truly is. He’s not anguished by a lack of self-acceptance. He’s only conflicted because Jack demands to be seen when he’s around other men, pushing Ted into shadow and silence. Unconsciously, Ted masks up when he’s in the presence of men who embody the contemporary ethic of manliness that dominates American culture.

The weakest man tends to have the thickest mask. He becomes excessively boastful about his talents and achievements while being haunted by the horror of not measuring up. With every step he convinces himself he is a man among men all the while knowing one misstep could cast enormous doubt on his place in this world. His life absorbs all the standard macho mannerisms so that nothing remains that was organically true when he was young and unaffected by masculine ethos. He lives a simulated existence driven by the endless overreach of a man desperate to appear adequate and acceptable.

Ted’s drive to be validated as a man is so strong he doesn’t acknowledge that Jack has become a second skin, virtually permanent and unrecognizable as synthetic. Ted hates the taste of alcohol, but Jack never turns down a beer. Ted would like to mention the latest book he’s read, but Jack just wants to talk about sports. Ted likes a variety of musical styles – classical, pop, jazz, and new age - but Jack wants to keep it simple: rock and rap. Ted enjoys cooking a range of different kinds of food, but Jack’s focus is only on grilling beef. Ted is modest and drawn to traditional intimacy while Jack is keen to brag shamelessly about his sexual athleticism even to people who don’t want to know.

Ted is not schizophrenic in the least. He’s just adaptable. When circumstances require Jack to emerge, Ted masks up and mutates into the man he thinks others – both men and women – want to see. This change-up used to be a calculated maneuver but now it’s virtually autonomic. Over time it becomes more difficult to shut Jack down and let Ted be Ted because he perceives Jack to be more socially suitable, more culturally in sync, and all around more agreeable to the world. Jack takes the mainstage while Ted disappears into insignificance.

It’s possible that from time to time Ted will surface and say or do something that will elicit disbelief from the unsuspecting. Oh my god, I never knew you liked (fill in the blank). Or I never would have guessed that you were (fill in the blank). These unscripted but candid disclosures can be so small that they could never threaten Jack’s dominance, or they can be so revealing that they call into question Jack’s very existence. When the latter occurs, Ted is on the first step of a pathway that can lead to freedom from Jack’s coercive influence and corrosive imprint.

Every man alive has a mask that’s worn somewhere between occasionally and continuously either to conceal what’s inside or to project what’s not. In my mind this is a universal principle of male psychology that serves both beneficial and detrimental ends. It’s good that men hide the deep things of the soul from men who couldn’t care less about them. In Jesus’ words, why throw pearls to swine? Yet, it’s not good to act out things that seemingly come from the soul but that aren’t there at all. Why pretend pearls exist when they don’t?

We come now to Oscar Wilde’s quote found at the beginning of this post. Give a man a mask and he’ll tell you the truth. If a man hides behind a mask to veil the truth, how can a mask help a man unveil that same truth? The answer lies with Jack.

Jack is a mask, a projection of Ted’s machinations to conform to a masculine archetype that he believes is more desirable than authenticity. Most importantly, it is Ted’s interest in living safely that compels him to adopt his strategy of adaptation. It is simply safer to live a lie than it is to live a truth that is ridiculed or condemned by popular male conventions. Ironically, Jack gives Ted the safety to be Ted – to tell part or all of the truth – if he wants to take the opportunity and accept the responsibility. In effect Jack is disclosing something about Ted that may not be copacetic with established American masculinity but it doesn’t matter because Jack is doing the talking. It’s like football great Rosie Greer admitting he enjoyed needlepoint. Masculine Rosie (Jack) reveals an unmasculine hobby that he (Ted) enjoys.

There’s more to Wilde’s quote than I’ve scratched. A man can actually rip open his soul if he’s absolutely certain the soul can never be identified as his. That whole process can be the subject of a future post. My point here is to suggest a man doesn’t have to live wholeheartedly in a contrived state where deceit is the mainspring of most of what’s said or done. Ted is the man and Jack is only a caricature. When Ted finds the courage to live in integrity, Jack will fade because his purpose will dissipate. In time, Jack will become a relic, and Ted will look back and wonder how he ever envied a man who was as fake as fake could be.