Man
has always been fascinated by masks. The first mask,
repurposed from an animal head, was worn with the expectation
of acquiring traits or attributes the wearer wanted
as his own. Unhappy with himself ‘as is’ but wanting
to improve himself, the wearer believed that, by donning
a mask, the gods would endow him with the animal’s exceptional
abilities (strength, speed), thereby allowing him to
more efficaciously perform a given task: hunting prey,
healing the hurting. The mask became the conduit—the
short cut—to a superior self.
The
origin of the word dates back to the 15th century: masque
from French and machera from Italian. In the
word mask we find mascara and masquerade. In Arabic,
maskharah means buffoon.
We
distinguish between the masks worn by primitive man,
which served a narrow purpose, from the multiplicity
of uses in the present age.
In
the past, to more effectively or directly communicate
with the gods or spirits, masks were incorporated in
tribal ceremonies and rituals. Masks were used in war,
to communicate with the dead, and in daily life, through
fear and intimidation, to inculcate community values
and set the wayward straight.
Closer
to the present, surgical masks are worn to prevent the
spreading of viruses and to self-protect against allergies,
pollution and inclement weather (snow storm, sand storm).
It
wasn’t until the emergence of Greek theater in 6th century
B.C. that mask wearing and especially mask making came
into their own. By slipping into a mask, which was designed
to amplify the voice, an actor could mimic the anatomical
features of persons from faraway places and cultures.
Until women were allowed to participate in theater in
the 17th century, men played their parts by wearing
masks, wigs and women’s clothing.
In
the late 17th century in aristocratic France, masquerade
balls became de rigueur. As a sophisticated
form of social entertainment, the occasion required
that the invitees wear masks, and they would have to
wait until midnight to reveal their true identity. The
masquerade’s popularity was directly related to the
anonymity provided by the mask, the freedom and giddiness
experienced by the emboldened wearer who assumed the
personality and mannerisms of persons they would otherwise
have to refuse. Thus a high society lady could pose
as a lascivious tramp and the baron’s in-bred idiot
bastard son could masquerade as Voltaire.
However
varied have been the uses of masks throughout history,
in chiefly Africa, the impulse that united all the original
wearers was the desire to correct and improve upon human
competence by fitting themselves into a severed animal’s
head and taking on the beasts most conspicuous superiorities:
speed, strength, agility and fearsomeness, and, by extension
or supernatural cause and effect, become equal to whatever
prey their sights were set on. As such, every mask donning
was a critique of the self, an admission to a flaw or
deficit the mask wearer aspired to overcome. In primitive
societies the mask was the vital link between the gods
and the terrifying animal world the wearer wished to
better understand. Among the beasts of prey that had
to be subdued were mammoths, buffalos, giraffes and
rhinos, which left Homo sapiens, a dwarf species by
comparison, open to all options,
The
first record of mask wearing
dates back to 9000 B.C.
The
early masks were theriomorphic—having animal form. After
big game had been leveled and the head hollowed out
and reconstituted as a mask, the alpha male or the tribal
shaman would don the head with the expectation of assuming
the animal’s desired characteristics. It is only recently
in man’s history that masks became anthropomorphic,
having human features, which came about as a concomitant
of the demands of theater.
In
response to the universal longing to break free from
being one’s self, most societies dedicate a much anticipated
time slot for festivals or fiestas, often religious,
that incorporate mask wearing into their rites and celebration.
Among the most cherished of these quasi-bacchanalias
are Carnival, Mardi Gras, and Day of the Dead, where
the participants, either out of envy or curiosity, but
wanting to get out of their skins, dress up in masks
in order to temporarily appropriate the identity of
someone they are not.
Masks
also serve pragmatic (preservational) ends. In totalitarian
regimes, hiding behind a metaphorical mask is a necessity
as it concerns expressing views that run contrary to
the official party line. Even in democratic nations
whose constitutions allow for free assembly, a certain
percentage of protestors will ‘disappear’ their identity
under a real mask for fear of losing, for example, their
employment if identified with a particular cause.
In
the present age, despite the juggernaut of feminist
revolutions and reconfiguration of the power differential
between the genders, masking up in the public domain
is a cultural constant. When a woman does herself up,
usually at the behest of an insinuating (bullying) marketing
strategy conceived to make her self-loathe in her natural
state, she is convinced that by hiding her face beneath
a mask of cosmetics she will be more likeable and more
likely to find approval from the male gaze.
Plastic
surgery provides a permanent mask, with the wearer usually
masquerading as someone younger, more attractive, permanently
relieved of the embarrassments associated with aging:
wrinkles, age spots and loose skin. As one would expect,
permanent masks are significantly more costly than removable
ones.
In
respect to group behaviour, masks can be symbolic. Franz
Fanon, author of Black
Skin, White Masks observes: “The
divided self-perception of a Black Subject who has lost
his native cultural origin, and embraced the culture
of the Mother Country, produces an inferior sense of
self in the Black Man. The Black Man will try to appropriate
and imitate the culture of the colonizer—donning the
“white masks” of the book’s title.”
In
Black
Like Me (1961), white man John Griffin
undergoes radical pigmentation therapy to turn his skin
black. The black mask he wears is the lie which enables
him to discover the truth about racism in America.
If
in the West, masks are worn by women to make themselves
more sexually attractive, in Islam, the burqa as mask
is employed to keep under wraps that very same quality.
And it matters not whether the mask is donned by choice
(in the West) or is enforced (in Islam) since mask wearing
among women in both cultures enjoys a long history.
When a Muslim woman, risking the opprobrium attendant
to apostasy, disaffects from Islam to West, it could
be argued that she is simply trading one mask for another.
In
the public domain, men do not traditionally mask up,
however among those who don’t like the shape of their
mouths or facial features, a certain percentage of them
will grow beards and mustaches, which is consistent
with the first principle of masking: to correct and/or
improve upon.
Despite
the myriad shapes and colours of the world’s masks,
the constancy of mask wearing is guaranteed by a jealously
protected stratagem of inducing, especially in women,
self-loathing and envy, with the mask serving as the
transcendent from one’s natural self to one’s wished
for self, the materials of which the barons of industry
are only too happy to supply. The global market
for lipstick is 10.4 billion dollars.
The cosmetic
surgery industry was valued at 57 billion
in 2023.
Which
is to say, so long as the mask, as disposable cultural
artifact, continues to serve as a corrective for perceived
physical defects or shortcomings, the daily rite of
masking up is assured of a robust future; and more and
more men are stepping up to the mirror. According to
Ipsos, 15%
of American men between 18 and 65 use
cosmetics and make up.
As
to the growing number of disposable faces at our disposal,
both the tea leaf and crystal ball readers are on the
same page: if you can pay your way, there’s room and
a mirror and a cosmetologist for everyone at Vanity
Fair
