We often talk about masks pejoratively. To hide behind a mask is to be false or insecure; to conceal or disguise the truth, and pretend to be someone or something we're not. Removing our masks is positive, liberating, fulfilling; unmasking is what gets done to villains and charlatans, metaphorically if not literally, to reveal truth and expose the ugliness of their actions and motives. Bank robbers and kidnappers wear them - in films, at least - to conceal their identity, as did the recent anti-government protesters in Hong Kong. And then Coronavirus came along, and the world started wearing masks... and they became a good thing. Concealment became protection, and containment of possible infection; unmasked faces meant danger - both exposure to it, and transmission of it.
Although not yet compulsory here, masks are becoming increasingly more common. Even so, seeing other people wear them was no preparation for actually wearing one myself; just as trying one on indoors was no preparation for wearing it outside. To begin with, I felt self-conscious; more noticeable. Protected, of course; but also strangely exposed. I assumed other mask-wearers must have felt the same to begin with, and wondered whether becoming accustomed to this, too, will become part of our 'new normal'. And then I discovered that with my mouth covered, I could no longer rely on simply smiling or murmuring my thanks if another pedestrian or shopper stepped aside - a murmur is all-too easily muffled, smiling eyes not always noticed, especially behind glasses. Even these little interractions will have to change, along with so much else.
And so here I am, rocking my latest lockdown look: shaggy hair, snazzy mask, self-conscious everything else. Like my neighbours, those of you who meet me online - via Zoom, Skype or WhatsApp, in a world considered 'virtual' - will of course still be able to see my whole face, complete with full, unconcealed range of expressions. And I will see yours: hopefully, we'll all still see lots of smiles, laughs and chuckles, alongside seriousness, and the raw reality of sadness and anxiety. But if you meet me in the supermarket, in a world we consider 'real', you'll only see part of me: I hope, though, as this becomes my new normal and I become less self-conscious, you'll be able to see that I'm smiling - and not just with my eyes.
Although not yet compulsory here, masks are becoming increasingly more common. Even so, seeing other people wear them was no preparation for actually wearing one myself; just as trying one on indoors was no preparation for wearing it outside. To begin with, I felt self-conscious; more noticeable. Protected, of course; but also strangely exposed. I assumed other mask-wearers must have felt the same to begin with, and wondered whether becoming accustomed to this, too, will become part of our 'new normal'. And then I discovered that with my mouth covered, I could no longer rely on simply smiling or murmuring my thanks if another pedestrian or shopper stepped aside - a murmur is all-too easily muffled, smiling eyes not always noticed, especially behind glasses. Even these little interractions will have to change, along with so much else.
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