Heart and Soul Writing

Helen Keller is fascinating to me, because she was (by necessity) a very reflective, "interior" person without in any way hiding from the world. Her autobiography makes that obvious. Again and again, she would put herself into new and often intimidating situations to gain knowledge and understanding, finding out as much as she could about the situation and reflecting on it extensively.

I think that comfort she felt in the quiet of herself impacted her writing in a huge way. Beyond the obvious external silence of being deaf, Helen Keller wrote with thoughtful, concentrated care. I wish I had that habit, but really, I often end up writing something superficial or flawed because I give in to the distractions of Facebook, music, or the "noise" of unrelated worries, ideas, and daydreams in my own head. Imagine sitting down and writing something straight through, putting all your thoughts, feelings, sense, and attention into it!

Maybe my distractibility is why I prefer typing. I like to skip sections of a paper, or jot down ideas, or scroll up and rewrite the beginning of my work any time without messing up the page and having to make copy after copy of the same paper. The technical limitations of the typewriter and the complications of her blindness made that impossible for Helen. Yes, she edited her work, but not by flitting superficially from section to section and idea to idea. I wonder whether she would have liked to write and edit like I do, if the technology of the moment had made that possible. Was the difference between our experiences of writing caused only by the physical constraints of Helen's situation, or by a more fundamental difference in willpower, distractibility, and personal depth?

The Truth in Masks

Oscar Wilde once wrote that “man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.” Wilde is known for his epigrams and paradoxical quotes, but – as usual – this phrase is not as ridiculous as it initially appears. Anonymity frees us to say what we think without fear of retaliation, making us much more likely to present ourselves as we really are. In many situations, anonymity actually leads to more truthfulness, not less.

Anonymity makes us brave. No one knows who I am behind my computer screen, so I can say whatever I want without anyone screaming at me for it. If I want to say something controversial, it’s much easier to post it on my blog than to stand on a soapbox and announce the same thing at a busy intersection downtown. Yes, some commenter might start fuming and try to refute me, but that’s much less intimidating than a 300-pound wrestler screaming the same argument in real life – even if the commenter gets really angry and pulls out caps lock.

The braver I am, the more truthful I’ll be. The confidence my anonymity gives me makes me increasingly likely to present my most heartfelt, even secret, beliefs. I’m more likely to write in my own voice, without the, “Well, I think…” or “…but if you disagree, that’s fine too” buffers I’d add if I were speaking in person. I can use very personal anecdotes to illustrate my points, because I’m not afraid of boring anyone, or of being contradicted in the way I remember events. I can bare my soul because the mask of anonymity protects me.

This is where the paradox comes in. The more secure I am in my anonymity, the more I show myself as I really am. The more I show myself as I really am, the less anonymous I become.

Race is a perfect example. Ethnic background, traditions, and habits are a deep part of identity, and they affect us in many ways – but they’re either out of place in the conversation, or mentioning this is a catalyst for a lot of stupid jokes and misunderstandings. Those concerns don’t matter in an anonymous setting like a blog, though: anonymity shows us for who we really are better than face-to-face interaction, because in person, we feel compelled to hide parts of ourselves anyways.

Of course, this doesn’t work in all situations. People are generally smarter and kinder than they appear in YouTube comments or cyber bullying websites. Neither is a good place to get to know another person in a deep or lasting way. On a blog or website devoted to the informal exchange of ideas, though, initial anonymity may be the best way to learn the truth about others.

What better way to learn the truth about someone than to look at them “dancing like no one’s watching,” as the old song goes? Anonymity could be the most truthful mask of all.