Guest Post: Masking

This powerful piece of writing that describes the author's experience of masking was written by one of the young people that we support.

The close press of ceramic greets me as I awake. The cold, stiff mask of blasted clay sits atop my face, triumphant in its place of dominance over my unknowable person.

Years ago, maybe, a part of my morning routine would include pulling it on and wrapping the strings around my head so that I could tie them tight enough to choke me. Alas, after 15 years of adorning my visage with ceramic, it does not come off even as I dream in technicolour.

My body weighs itself down in its resting place for a minute more of sleep, but a lie in is not for me. Not today, at least.

On the days that I can lay as long as I wish, I spend digging my fingernails against the edge of the mask and pulling. I play with the idea of weightlessness and of bloody, faceless gore before I sit up and swing my legs over the mattress and onto the floor.

My sack of flesh snaps straight at the motion and, suddenly, I am stood. I carry myself into the bathroom. My reflection greets me with its smiling face and uncanny eyes. Ah, the eyes. I hadn’t yet found the perfect balance of eye contact. It almost felt as if the golden ratio was constantly shifting, the bar for looking canny unachievable to someone without that innate foresight.

Aside from the eyes, though, it would be impossible for one unlike myself to see the mask’s edge. Or, that was the intention. I have never mentioned it and there are no responses to a question that is not asked.

In the unlikely scenario that the ceramic would renounce its position, my mind fails to conceptualise how, exactly, my face looks. Eyes, a mouth, a nose, cheeks, a forehead, eyebrows, obviously. But what shape did my eyes take? What side was my chickenpox scar on my chin? Did I have prominent cheek bones?

That isn’t worth pondering as I am now. The world is waiting for me to cover up the rest of my skin and walk among those without masks, so I do.

A pressure builds up around me as I approach my front door, and a pop rings out when I finally step out onto the pavement.

Written by GE 2025

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Masking is described as the conscious or subconscious suppression of one's true personality, emotions, or neurodivergent traits to fit in, avoid stigma, or meet social expectations. But it is far more than mimicking neurotypical behaviours in order to fit in. It's a subconscious nervous system survival response due to a lack of felt safety, and the continued invalidation and correction experienced by a neurodivergent individual.

For a detailed and thorough explanation of the complexities of masking, and unmasking, have a look and this article by Jade Farrington & Kieran Rose