Chapter 1: Curated Facades and Imposter Syndrome

 

"Having grown up so familiar with creating a pleasing facade, I now end up compelled to reveal things inside and say, 'Okay, now you really see me. Do you still love me?' And then it's never enough; it always has to be total self-revelation." - Kathryn Harrison

One of my earliest coping mechanisms were to create facades, not because I'm a sociopath who lacks empathy. Quite the opposite; I created facades because I have empathy and inherited the people pleasing trait from my parents. I became whatever version of myself that I felt people wanted, in order for them to feel safe and valued. While I may have used a different toolbox than a sociopath, my facades were still a form of manipulation to get people to like me more. 

Why do we create facades? If you're a person of color, woman, LGBTQ+, or non-Protestant, something we're all familiar with is code switching, a survival tool we adopt to assimilate in predominantly WASP (White, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant) spaces. We all know what it looks like. We adjust our speech, our appearance, our behavior, and even our values in order to hide our "other-ness" a put our peers, supervisors, and employers at ease. As a second generation Korean American (born in the United States) it began in school. We were taught to keep our "exotic" cuisines at home to prevent the cafeteria from smelling like kimchi and other foods too "spicy" for delicate (aka bland) white sensibilities. I remember the first time my mom packed a bologna sandwich in the first grade because I was embarrassed by my box lunches of rice, fried egg, and kimchi. 

In my experience, a lot of my code switching and creation of facades can be attributed to major imposter syndrome,  the feeling like you're a fraud and that any moment you'll be exposed that you only got to where you are through dumb luck. My CV can be a case study in imposter syndrome. A) My first major role a Managing Director of K.A.F.E. (Korea Academy for Educators), a multi-cultural education non-profit that hosted professional development workshops for K-12 teachers. With KAFE I was a double imposter: not only was I failed educator who never made it to a full-time classroom, but I was also a "failed Korean" who was barely fluent in his ancestral tongue and knew only bits and pieces of Korean history.  B) Then I took up several freelancing roles for my mentor, first as a book editor and then as a House Manager for a theater production of her one-woman show Macho Like Me despite not having any prior experience in either. C) Which brings me to my current job, a Case Manager at a family Domestic Violence shelter. The imposter syndrome comes from being an Asian American in an African American organization, with predominantly African American and Hispanic clients. And compared to others in my field, I wasn't a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW) or studying to get a Marriage & Family Therapy (MFT) degree. I got my Bachelor's Degree in Sociology and never got my Master's because I didn't know what kind of career I could have as a Sociologist. Every day for the first three months I half expected to be exposed as a fraud who didn't know what the hell he was doing. With every role I felt like a placeholder until someone more qualified and "authentic" came along.

It was the same with my friendships and romantic relationships. I accentuated the aspects of my identity that felt more appealing while trying to hide the parts of me that might be rejected. When I attended church, my facade hid the fact that I had major questions why our theology seemed to defend a patriarchal, homophobic status quo. Around Koreans my facade hid the shame that I felt completely disconnected from my ancestral home. My easy-going, affable facade around my friends hid a fear of not belonging and being left out. My attentive and conscientious facade as a boyfriend hid the fear that I couldn't satisfy my partner and a resignation that they'd inevitably leave me for someone who's actual marriage material.

Creating mysteries or facades about myself wasn't exactly the same as building walls. A wall is designed to keep people out. That's not what I wanted, I distinctly wanted people into my life. But, I wanted it on my terms. To curate their experience of me so they wouldn't look too closely at the less desirable parts of me. Enjoy the living room and the charcuterie spread I've prepared, please don't open the closet to see my skeletons methodically arranged by size and color, because I have OCD brain. Better to leave a little mystery and be seen as an enigma.

Because if I gave too much away, if they saw the real me, the me I see in the mirror everyday, there's no way they'd still accept me. There's no way they'd think I was good enough. There's no way they'd say I belong. There's no way they'd think I'm marriage material. 

But that's not how acceptance and love works. It can't be carefully curated. The mystery has to be removed and the facade needs to be exposed. True acceptance, worth, and love can only come from authenticity. And authenticity can be messy and ugly sometimes. I'm tired of hiding in plain sight while still desiring to be seen. I'm tired of curating my life for others to consume as an amuse bouche while hoping they'll stay for the main course. I recognize the irony of stating that I'm tired of curating my life while this entire project of pairing photographs with these essays is me curating my life. 

I refuse to have imposter syndrome about the f*cking life I've created and the person I am. I'm not here because of dumb luck; I'm here with intention. To be seen, accepted, valued, and loved for me. Nothing more, nothing less.

Photography by: https://www.zacharyleeportrait.com