Masked Man

Hidden

Like many people, I have been wearing masks since the pandemic began in 2020. Masks have become an ever present, key feature of my public persona.

My choice of double masks (inner surgical and outer cloth) on the subway, in stores, in crowds or other locations deserving of caution instantly differentiates me from those who defiantly refuse to wear masks and likely object to any other related safety measure. We silently assess and react to each other.

Masks hide my thoughts better than ever. People have a harder time guessing what I look like, how old I am and especially what I might be thinking. The only clues to my age are my clothes but they can be misleading because I don't dress differently than I did decades ago. People can't see if I am grinning and they don't quickly know whether I look friendly, fearful or hostile. The face is a window to the mind and soul but it's as if the shades or blinds have been closed. Outsiders must knock on the door and formally request entry.

On the other hand, my remaining visible characteristics such as height, weight and yes, skin color, are relied upon much more to figure out my background and personality. People are still likely to be quite wrong in their conclusions but they have no choice but to run with the information that's available for evaluation.

In a city of 8.8 million often like-minded New Yorkers, when I wear a mask I am unknown more than I already was. This is as opposed to other places in the south (Texas comes to mind) where I would be the opposite of hidden. I might stand out, be verbally identified and maybe even accosted. As a black male, I would be far more likely to be questioned by the police after someone called them on me for looking "suspicious" (as occurred in the infuriating tragedy of Elijah McClain). Right wing shoppers in a supermarket would call me a liberal leftist traitor, instead of seeing me as a conscientious person who cares for my health and the health of others while I am harming absolutely no one.

Who's Watching

For an even longer time, I have been wearing caps and sunglasses, a look that I enjoy but that also obscures my face. They make me even less identifiable in a world where cameras are everywhere and we are being constantly watched and recorded, big brother style, as we hurtle toward a not so distant dystopian world. I know more than most people about this because I am a photographer and writer who is very aware of viral social media, politically based hyper-scrutiny and government/criminal justice surveillance. There are companies whose sole business plan is gathering images from Facebook, Instagram and any other platform to monetize them, for sale to police databases. There are cameras on streets, in public and private buildings ostensibly for security or to aid in catching thieves and assaults but there are few if any laws restricting the use of the photos and videos in other ways. Images can be taken of me without my knowledge or authorization and reused in all the aforementioned distribution channels in objectionable and even intentionally nefarious ways.

So it is okay if my mask, hat and sunglasses give me greater anonymity in such an environment. It is okay for me to be the observant one with artistic intent only. It is okay for me to not be so readily captured by individuals and institutions that have often lost a sense of the importance of not collecting images of individuals solely as data for use in algorithms. It is okay for me to be aware that I have little to no privacy as I simply go about my day, and that I can be mocked, criticized or worse, accused falsely of anything, simply because my image has been gathered without my knowledge for any purpose an individual, company or agency alone decides.

This is because we are all now "content" for an end user or an audience. Our public image can potentially be exploited in unlimited ways that live on forever. Sometimes an image can start out in a positive situation and end up in a negative one. I do not use the content I generate to malign or destroy my subjects. I try to limit and control the use by others of my creative works in order to prevent such problems. But I know enough to never blindly trust that other people won't give in to the temptation to do exactly what I wouldn't do.

The Future Me

The question is how long will I continue to wear a mask?

Masks are likely to become a near permanent part of public me, for one reason. In my own experience, they seem to work well in achieving their original health goal, the prevention of the transmission by strangers to me of airborne particles that will literally make me sick.

Since I have been wearing masks (and social distancing), I have not gotten even one cold. I used to get at least one and sometimes two colds per year which I was convinced were the result of riding on the subway. People do not hesitate to cough, sneeze and blow out germs onto others in enclosed spaces. Maybe some of it is unavoidable but the spreading of germs on the subway is highly effective at infecting me. I believe that almost all my colds have been sent to me as unwanted gifts from my fellow travelers on trains. That is, until the pandemic, when the evidence says that I don't get colds now that mask wearing by myself and by others has arrived.

Therefore, I will keep wearing masks, a cap and sunglasses. I will continue to be mysterious but I will look cool while doing so. And most important, I will stay healthy.