The Hats That We Wear
A Commentary on Social Performance
BY COLE O’BRIEN
Regardless of whether or not you've been on the stage of a theater in your lifetime, it would be nothing short of a blatant lie to say that you have never performed. The truth is, every outfit that we pick after begrudgingly rolling out of bed in the morning is accompanied by one constant accessory—a hat. With this, I am not so much referring to a physical hand-me-down baseball cap or fashion-forward beret, but rather the idea that each one of us has a role that we do and that we make this role a focal point of our identities and completely hide our true selves and interests from each other.
Although I did spend a portion of my adolescence on a stage performing, I can assure you that the best performances of my life occurred outside of the spotlight, each phase presenting me with a new character to play, a new hat to wear, and even a new Oscar-worthy performance to give. Oftentimes we start off crafting false identities through small adjustments, little white lies that we infuse into our personalities to avoid conflict and please those around us. Eventually, however, I began to wait on pins and needles each day just to hear the audience around me give me a standing ovation, affirming to me that I had made the right choices and played my character to their liking. I found myself constructing a personality that was entirely not my own. Instead, there was always a costume that I could put on, allowing me to disguise myself so flawlessly under a character that I began to lose track of what was real and what was an act. The more hats that we wear and the more people that we attempt to please, the less and less familiar we become with ourselves. Unfortunately ( or fortunately?), these acts are hardly ever sustainable; one can only balance so many hats atop their head before the tower starts to collapse before their very eyes.
One of the greatest losses in life may be the loss of one’s self. After our tower of hats inevitably collapses, it leaves us feeling emptier and more confused than ever before. I feel as though I speak on this from a place of experience. When the world came to a halt in March 2020, I was forced to spend a lot of time in my own company; I imagine nearly everyone felt this way due to forced isolation. Regardless, this time allowed me to take a step back and see the performative nature that had become my daily existence. Once I had no one to cater my personality to, I realized that I didn’t know myself at all. Admittedly, this realization hit me hard; It can be extremely frustrating to come to terms with this and accept that you may not be as sure of yourself as you once believed.
For the most part, those of us performing do not even realize the extent to which we are doing so. Sometimes we believe that the performance we are putting on is authentically us. After all, there are a plethora of ways we are incentivized to act in our daily lives, from personality traits to adopt or drop to gender stereotypes to conform to and even tips and tricks intended to make us successful and happy. Add in the presence of social media and online trends that offer quick solutions to any possible issue, and you begin to understand why this phenomenon exists.
Humans are indeed social creatures, and there are still many times when I catch myself performing. It would be naive of me to sit here and say that any of us can completely prevent ourselves from doing so. I have spent the past couple of years trying to find some magical solution that would allow me to give up the need to perform, frequently getting frustrated at myself when I found myself falling back into old patterns. I wish that I could end this article by offering up some kind of life-changing secret for everyone, but if I am to be completely transparent, then I must say that I do not believe that there is one. Rather, I want to offer up the best piece of advice that I can: be patient and grant yourself forgiveness. The best thing that we can do is accept that as long as we are human, we are going to be flawed; we are always going to make mistakes and ruffle someone else's feathers. Only once we accept that it is okay to go off-script and make our own artistic choices can we begin to truly allow ourselves the freedom to discover what type of character we want to write for ourselves, not just perform. Sure, our choices might not always land with our audiences, but that’s just part of the process of our self-discovery.
Blurb: In As You Like It, Shakespeare wrote that “all the world's a stage.” As I dive into the performative nature of myself and others, I find it clear that perhaps we all should have paid a little more attention in our high school literature class.