L.E. McCullough: A masked encounter unmasks a glimpse of truth

Last week I stood in a local grocery checkout line in the East End. The store was large with very high ceilings, and there was enough ambient noise to prevent most people from hearing a normal-volume conversation occurring more than a few feet away.

I, however, have excessively sharp and focusable hearing … asset or annoyance, I’m not always certain. When I discerned a woman’s voice unleashing a torrrent of violent curse words, I couldn’t help but seek the source.

Three lanes to my right a middle-aged woman leaned on her cart, awaiting her turn at the register; six feet or so behind her (correctly socially distanced) stood a tall man in his 20s, holding a small basket of items. They faced each other and, like battleships on the open sea, took turns letting fly volleys of ugly and abusive epithets — b-word, c-word, d-word, f-word, mf-word, etc. Words we hear routinely from R-rated films and shock comics (but don’t expect to encounter when buying detergent) poured out of their masked mouths.

Incredibly, no one but me appeared to notice. Other shoppers, employees, even the watchful security guard stationed a mere dozen feet away seemed oblivious to this intense and increasingly hostile tête-à-tête that continued for several minutes until the woman reached the cashier and the man strode to another line.

I think it was the masks that obscured the exchange’s ferocity. Both adversaries wore masks covering nose and mouth, which not only restricted volume but disguised visible evidence of their fury. No spittling, grimacing, nostril-flaring or other facial contortions associated with argument could be seen.

Body language was likewise restrained … no finger-pointing, arm-waving, chest-puffing, fist-shaking to alert a casual observer this tableaux was anything more than a casual chat.

Pre-covid-19, the confrontation would have played out in a much more dynamic and escalating manner no bystander could have ignored. And though the degree of visual aggression was muted, the brutality of their verbal assault was astonishing. Whatever misunderstanding sparked the dispute was not being amicably resolved in any sort of teachable moment.

One root of our word mask is the medieval Latin word masca meaning “specter” or “nightmare.” Wearing a mask protects us, shields us from unknowable threats outside our physical self. It also signals our effort to act responsibly toward others.

Yet with our identity partially concealed, the mask gives us permission to unleash any specter we hold inside, to literally unmask any anger, hate or other strong passions we usually publicly suppress.

If the grocery antagonists had not worn masks, would they have vented their rage for so long and so earnestly? Or would they have resorted to the usual brief display of smirks, snorts, rolled eyes, inaudible mutterings? Micro-censure without crossing the line to full-scale aggression.

Did their opponent’s obscured face make it more difficult to view them as fully human? Did they see the unfamiliar Masked Other as a nightmarish specter inviting fear and attack?

Oscar Wilde observed, “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person; give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

I’m not sure what truth I witnessed that day. But as we continue our daily journeys through this Time of the Mask, we should be prepared to bump up against some truths about ourselves and others that may be inconvenient, unavoidable and, perhaps, necessary.

L.E. McCullough, a Mt. Washington resident, is a former press director at Hall Institute of Public Policy in Trenton, N.J.