As a southern kid growing up in Detroit...

5/4/20

…in the 90s I knew how important it was for me to fit in. With big ears, a gap-toothed smile, a country accent, a gift for music and empathy, and a history of undiagnosed depression I also knew how tough that would be. From my middle school experience in North Carolina I knew the consequences of standing out or even being perceived to be different. So when my parents told us we were moving to Detroit I saw an opportunity. I could reinvent myself and be whoever I needed to be in order to be considered normal. For me that meant that above all else I must always maintain a tough but unbothered exterior. Never let them see you in a moment of weakness. Never let them see you smile or cry and if anyone tests you or threatens your reputation you have to fight for your respect, verbally or physically, whatever the cost.

These were the rules for young Black men. In a culture and society that rewarded toxic masculinity being anything other than tough could get you killed. I knew that intimately as I was no longer able to count on two hands the number of friends and classmates who lost their lives well before their time. So, long before I knew the Paul Laurence Dunbar poem I began to wear the Mask. In the beginning I only wore it to school, but once I saw the benefits of a masked life I started to wear it everywhere. I wore it to church, around the neighborhood and eventually at home. I wore it so frequently that I didn’t even have to put it on anymore. The Mask had become my identity. The only time I ever remembered I was even wearing the Mask was when I was around music. Luckily in high school I had a friend who introduced me to a chorus class he was taking. It was acceptable for us to take this class because we were on the JV football team and our school’s award winning concert choir had several members of the varsity football team. The next year I was invited to join the concert choir and even though the Mask remained molded to my face, whenever I sang I was reminded that the Mask didn’t truly fit.

My involvement with the arts exposed me to new environments, cultures and possibilities that I had only dreamed of or seen on tv. The arts provided the only space that allowed me to feel. Those experiences shaped the person I am now, but it would take many more years for this rose to emerge from the concrete. My love for music introduced me to photography, painting, dance and other creative expressions that all worked to slowly chip away at that old restrictive Mask that had become more of a protective element than an identity. But it wasn’t until I experienced the love and support of an inclusive community that I was finally able to actualize the potential that the arts unlocked within. I was an adult when I received this powerful and liberating gift and it radically shifted the way I engage and encounter the world. Now I cherish the opportunity to provide youth with that same space to develop their identity in relation to self and the world, and to experience life without the Mask. Being able to experience the arts in a safe, supportive community space can mean the difference between living and existing. We all want to see change, but we often can’t see how it’s possible. Our young people are ready to change the world, but we have to provide them with the opportunities.