Chapter Ten - The Masks We Wear

CHAPTER TEN

The Masks We Wear

IN PUBLIC, EVERYONE smiles.

The clerk at the convenience store.
The subway announcer.
The student leader.
The corporate intern.
The factory foreman.
The TikTok influencer.
The police officer on the corner.

They all smile.
They all know the lines.
They all play their part.

In China, performance isn’t just encouraged — it’s required.

You perform harmony.
You perform pride.
You perform success.
You perform loyalty.

And over time, the performance becomes real — or at least real enough.

You laugh at the jokes in the patriotic TV drama.
You repost the right hashtags during national holidays.
You write the right thing on your college essay.
You say the right words when the boss asks your opinion.
You clap when the flag is raised.
You cheer when the policy is announced.
You post vacation photos instead of frustrations.

You don’t lie.

You just don’t tell the whole truth.

Because everyone else is performing, too.
And to stop performing is to stand out.
And to stand out… is to become visible.

Visibility is risk.

So people learn to split.

There’s the outside self — polite, agreeable, enthusiastic.
And the inside self — quiet, careful, waiting.

You joke with close friends, but only in private.
You complain to your parents, but only a little.
You ask questions, but you don’t post them.

Some learn to turn it off entirely.
Others forget it was a mask at all.

And in the end, the silence isn’t forced.
It’s chosen.
Over and over again.

Because in a world of invisible lines and permanent records…

It’s safer not to be fully known.